𝘮𝘰𝘳𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘯 𝘢 𝘮𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘯𝘵 8

Chapter 8:

The Breaking Point

Renee didn't text Jordan for three days.

Not that she was counting.

She told herself she wasn't going to reach out first. That it wasn't her job to fix this. That if Jordan wanted to talk, she would.

But every time her phone buzzed, she felt that flicker of hope—and every time, it wasn't Jordan.

It was pissing her off.

She wasn't that girl. She didn't do this. Sitting around, overthinking, waiting.

So, on the fourth day, she made a decision.

If Jordan didn't want to talk to her, then fuck it. She wasn't going to sit around like some lovesick idiot.

She was going out.

She wasn't looking to hook up.

Not really.

But when she ended up at a bar across town with a couple of friends, when a cute girl slid into the seat next to her and started flirting—Renee didn't exactly shut it down.

The girl was pretty. Brunette, soft brown eyes, a flirtatious smile that made it clear she was interested.

And it was easy.

Easier than sitting around thinking about Jordan.

So when the girl leaned in and whispered, "Wanna get out of here?" Renee didn't hesitate.

She was going to say yes.

She was.

But then—

"Renee."

The sound of her name—her voice—froze her in place.

Renee turned, and there Jordan was, standing a few feet away, eyes dark, lips pressed into a thin line.

Renee's stomach twisted.

Of all the fucking bars in this city, Jordan had to be here?

The brunette glanced between them. "Uh—should I go?"

Renee exhaled sharply, looking away. "Yeah. Sorry."

The girl left without another word.

And now it was just them.

A heavy silence.

Then Jordan scoffed. "You really didn't waste any time, huh?"

Renee's jaw clenched. "You don't get to be mad."

Jordan let out a humorless laugh. "Oh, I don't? My bad."

Renee stood, crossing her arms. "What the fuck do you want from me, Jordan?"

Jordan took a step closer. "I don't know, Renee. I don't fucking know."

Her voice was sharp, but underneath it—frustration, something else.

Something almost like hurt.

Renee swallowed hard. "Well, figure it out. Because I'm tired of this."

Jordan exhaled, running a hand through her hair. "You think I'm not?"

Renee scoffed. "Really? Because it kinda seems like you're fine just pretending nothing's happening—"

"You wanted casual," Jordan snapped.

Renee froze.

Jordan stepped closer, lowering her voice. "You're the one who said no expectations. No strings. You set the fucking rules, Renee."

Renee's breath caught. "That was before."

Jordan's jaw tightened. "Before what?"

Renee hesitated.

Before she started waking up in Jordan's bed and not wanting to leave.

Before she started caring about things like how Jordan's coffee order changed depending on her mood, or how she always cracked her knuckles when she was nervous.

Before she started thinking about Jordan even when she wasn't around.

Before it mattered.

Renee clenched her fists. "Before you started making me feel like an idiot."

Jordan's face flickered with something unreadable. "I never meant to do that."

"Then what the fuck do you mean to do?" Renee demanded. "Because one second, you're pulling me in, and the next, you're pushing me away. You say you don't do relationships, but you don't want me to leave, either. So what the fuck am I supposed to do, Jordan?"

Jordan's lips parted, but nothing came out.

Renee let out a humorless laugh. "That's what I thought."

She turned to leave.

Jordan grabbed her wrist.

Renee whipped around. "Don't."

Jordan's grip tightened.

Renee could feel her pulse beneath her fingertips. Fast. Unsteady.

Jordan swallowed. "I—"

Her voice caught.

And that—more than anything—pissed Renee off.

Because now Jordan wanted to talk?

Now, after everything, she was going to act like she gave a shit?

Renee yanked her arm free. "Too fucking late."

Jordan flinched like she'd been slapped.

Renee exhaled sharply. "I can't do this anymore."

Jordan didn't stop her this time.

She just stood there, jaw clenched, watching as Renee walked away.

And for the first time, Renee didn't look back.

She spent the next week avoiding Jordan.

No texts. No calls. No showing up at her apartment in the middle of the night.

Nothing.

She buried herself in work, went out with friends, did everything she could to keep herself distracted.

But it didn't fucking work.

Because Jordan was everywhere.

Every song on the radio, every damn place in the city that reminded her of them.

And it pissed her off.

Because she shouldn't fucking care.

She should be over it.

Over her.

But she wasn't.

And that scared her more than anything.

Jordan didn't reach out either.

And somehow, that was worse.