𝘮𝘰𝘳𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘯 𝘢 𝘮𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘯𝘵 5

Chapter 5:

Getting Closer

Jordan: Dinner tomorrow?

Renee stared at the message for a second, then sighed.

This had been happening a lot.

After that first night—the real date—Jordan kept asking. Not every night, but often enough that it wasn't just a fluke. Enough that Renee couldn't pretend it was just a casual thing anymore.

They still weren't calling it dating.

Not officially.

But they kept seeing each other. They kept going to bars, grabbing food, staying up late talking about nothing and everything.

And, of course, they kept fucking.

That part hadn't changed.

But something had.

She just wasn't sure either of them was ready to admit it yet.

Renee: What, you suddenly like my company?

Jordan: Nah, I just enjoy watching you struggle to pick a meal.

Renee rolled her eyes, smirking.

Renee: Fine. But I'm picking the place.

Jordan: Deal. 8pm?

Renee: Make it 7. You're buying.

Jordan: Bold of you to assume.

Renee: Babe, we both know you will.

Jordan: Fuck. You're right.

The next night, they met at a small ramen spot Renee liked. It was cozy and always smelled like garlic and chili oil.

Jordan walked in a few minutes late, shaking the rain from her jacket.

"You're late," Renee said, raising an eyebrow.

Jordan smirked. "Miss me that much?"

Renee scoffed. "No, I just like watching you suffer in the cold."

Jordan rolled her eyes but pulled off her jacket and slid into the booth across from Renee. "I'm never trusting your restaurant picks again. I stepped in a puddle on the way here."

"Tragic."

Jordan shook her head, but her lips twitched in amusement. "You're the worst."

The waitress came over, and they ordered.

Jordan didn't even look at the menu. "I'll have whatever she's having."

Renee raised an eyebrow. "Taking risks, huh?"

Jordan smirked. "I trust you."

That shouldn't have meant anything.

But for some reason, it did.

The food came, and they ate, conversation flowing easily.

They talked about everything—bad exes, awkward teenage years, weird family traditions.

At some point, Jordan leaned back, twirling her chopsticks between her fingers. "Okay. What's the dumbest shit you've ever done?"

Renee smirked. "Where do I start?"

Jordan grinned. "Hit me with the best one."

Renee thought for a second, then sighed. "Alright. When I was eighteen, I got blackout drunk with my best friend and dared her to give me a stick-and-poke tattoo."

Jordan's eyes lit up. "No fucking way. What was it?"

Renee groaned. "A fucking star."

Jordan laughed. "That's not too bad."

Renee held out her wrist, pointing at a tiny, slightly misshapen star near her pulse. "It's crooked as hell."

Jordan grabbed her wrist, studying it. Her fingers were warm against Renee's skin.

"You're right. That's terrible."

"Fuck off."

Jordan was still holding her wrist, thumb brushing absently against the tattoo.

It wasn't a big deal.

But it felt like a big deal.

Renee swallowed.

She pulled her hand back, reaching for her drink. "Your turn. Dumbest shit you've ever done."

Jordan smirked. "Oh, that's easy. When I was sixteen, I stole my mom's car and drove it to a party."

Renee raised an eyebrow. "Did you even have a license?"

"Fuck no."

"Oh my god."

"Yeah, I was a dumbass." Jordan grinned. "Got caught, too. My mom nearly killed me."

"Sounds about right."

Jordan shrugged. "Worth it, though. I got laid that night."

Renee rolled her eyes. "Of course you did."

Jordan just winked.

They finished their drinks, the conversation still flowing effortlessly.

And it hit Renee—this wasn't just easy.

It was good.

After dinner, they walked out into the chilly night air.

Jordan shoved her hands in her jacket pockets. "Wanna grab another drink somewhere?"

Renee hesitated.

It was late. She had work in the morning.

But when she looked at Jordan, standing there with that lazy smirk, eyes shining under the streetlights—

She didn't want to say no.

"Yeah," she said. "Why not?"

They ended up at a dive bar, tucked into a booth in the back.

Jordan ordered whiskey. Renee stuck with beer.

The drinks kept coming.

And so did the stories.

At some point, the conversation shifted.

Jordan exhaled, running a hand through her hair. "You ever think about leaving?"

Renee frowned. "Leaving what?"

"This city. Your job. Everything."

Renee hesitated. "Not really. I mean... I like it here. It's home."

Jordan huffed a small laugh, shaking her head. "Yeah. Guess I've never really had that."

Something about the way she said it made Renee pause.

She tilted her head. "You move around a lot?"

Jordan shrugged. "Kinda. My mom bounced around when I was a kid. Never stayed in one place too long. I guess I got used to not expecting shit to last."

Renee studied her.

It wasn't like Jordan to talk about this kind of thing.

She was usually all sarcasm and teasing, never letting anything real slip through.

But now? She looked... tired.

Renee took a slow sip of her drink. "That sounds rough."

Jordan shrugged like it didn't matter. "It was what it was."

Renee hesitated, then, before she could overthink it, she reached across the table.

Her fingers brushed Jordan's. Just for a second.

Jordan looked up.

Their eyes met.

Something heavy settled between them.

Renee pulled her hand back.

Jordan didn't say anything.

But she didn't look away, either.

They left the bar close to 2 a.m.

Outside, the night was quiet.

Jordan glanced at Renee. "You coming over?"

Renee knew what that meant.

Sex.

That was how this always ended.

But tonight felt... different.

She wasn't sure if that was good or bad.

Still, she nodded. "Yeah."

They didn't rush this time.

Back at Jordan's apartment, there was no frantic tugging of clothes, no desperate hands.

Instead, Jordan poured them both a glass of whiskey.

They sat on the couch, legs touching, talking in low voices.

And then, eventually, Jordan leaned in.

Renee met her halfway.

The kiss was slow.

Lingering.

Different.

Jordan's hands slid over her hips, fingers digging in just enough to make Renee shiver.

They moved to the bedroom, undressing each other between soft kisses and quiet laughter.

It wasn't just fucking.

And they both knew it.

Afterward, they lay in bed, tangled up together.

Jordan's fingers traced lazy circles on Renee's back.

Neither of them spoke for a long time.

Eventually, Renee murmured, "You ever think we're fucking this up?"

Jordan's hand stilled. "What do you mean?"

Renee exhaled. "I mean... this. Us. Whatever the fuck this is."

Jordan was quiet for a moment. Then she sighed. "I don't know."

Renee turned her head, meeting Jordan's gaze in the dim light. "I like you."

Jordan swallowed. "Yeah?"

Renee nodded. "Yeah."

Jordan hesitated. Then, finally, she whispered, "I like you too."

Neither of them moved.

Neither of them said anything else.

Because saying it was one thing.

Facing what it meant?

That was something else entirely.