“I’m an omelet guy.”
I beam at him. “Well then, we’re going to get along just fine.”
“I was extremely worried about that,” he says dryly.
Once we place our orders and doctor our coffees, I reach into my bag and pull out a tiny gift bag, pushing it across the table. Jordan eyes it warily, like it might contain something alive, and I burst out laughing.
“Jesus Christ, J, it won’t bite. Just open it.”
He reaches in and pulls out a small fold-out map of Manhattan. Turning it around in his hands, he looks up at me. “Explain, please.”
I sit back in the booth and grin at him. “I’m so glad you asked. As you may know, this Saturday is National Scavenger Hunt Day.”
“You will be extremely shocked to learn that I did not, in fact, know that.”
Jordan takes a sip of his coffee but doesn’t take his eyes off of me. The eye contact does weird things to my stomach, but I force myself to stay on track.
“Okay, well, be that as it may, this is obviously a holiday that must be celebrated. So, on Saturday night, we’re participating in a massive scavenger hunt all over the island of Manhattan.”
“We are?”
“Oh, yes, we are. As long as you’re not working. Are you working?”
“I have four days off. I don’t work again until Monday night.”
I clap my hands together. “Excellent. We’ll grab dinner first, and the scavenger hunt starts at ten. I’ve read all about it, and it’s supposed to be insane and so much fun. It goes late, but since we both sleep like crap anyway, might as well run around Manhattan looking for weird things, right?”
I eye him, wondering if he’s going to protest, but all he does is shrug. “Sounds good.”
“I think you mispronouncedsounds like it’s going to be the best night ever.”
He eyes me for a second. “Hurricane, I think you could probably make anything fun.”
He says it nonchalantly, as if it’s not the best, nicest thing he’s ever said to me, and I have to fight to keep my face neutral while a bubble of emotion expands in my chest. “Making things fun is my very best thing.”
He seems to consider that for a second. “Speaking of making things fun, now that you’re here, does that mean I can stop sending you Dippy pictures?”
“Uh, no it doesn’t. Just because I’m here doesn’t mean he doesn’t need an outfit change every day, and I need photographic evidence you’re taking care of that.”
Jordan pulls out his phone and opens his gallery, handing the phone to me across the table. I take it and burst out laughing at the picture of Dippy wearing a scarf covered in breakfast food. “I bow down to this level of coordination.”
Jordan shrugs, a sheepish expression on his face. “It felt appropriate.”
I hand him back the phone, smiling widely. “It absolutely is appropriate. I’m proud of you for keeping up the tradition.”
“I think maybe I would do anything you asked me to.” He holds eye contact with me for a second, but before I can figure out how to react to that—and to the butterflies swarming in my stomach—the waitress slides breakfast plates in front of us and the moment is broken.
But his words stick with me for a long time after breakfast is over.
CHAPTEREIGHT
JORDAN
Wyles Bros
Noah has changed the name of the chat to Wyles Bros
Elliot
