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“Pure fuckboy behavior. Not becoming of America’s sweetheart at all. I’m very disappointed.” She speared a stray piece of feta with a fork and popped it into her mouth.
“Jordy?” Will asked, turning to his suspiciously silent friend.
“I’m going to kill him,” Jordan said calmly. “I am going to actually kill him. I’m going to have my own Netflix documentary after I murder Patrick Lake and chop his body into tiny little pieces.”
“You’ll do no such thing,” said April.
“How dare he? How dare he!” Jordan’s voice level rose to a screech. “So he fucks you, this man who has been controlling the last month of your life—”
“I wouldn’t say controlling,” Will interjected.
“He makes you sign that insane document and basically frog-marches you back into the closet, forces you to sneak around like thieves in the night—”
“Again, he didn’t force me.”
“And then, when you do this thing for him, something special and secret and just for the two of you, in other words exactly what he wanted, something that sounds bloody hot, by the way—”
“It really was.”
“He has the audacity to go cold, kick you out afterward? No.” Jordan began to shake his head vehemently, the gold cross that dangled from his left ear swinging like a blade. “Nope. I do not think so.”
“I think he was just stressed,” said Will, suddenly regretting saying anything. Sharing this kind of intimate information, even with his two closest friends, was technically violating the NDA. God, why couldn’t he do anything right?
“Don’t you dare start making excuses for him,” Jordan snapped. “I don’t care that he’s famous, or a superhero, or that he has a dick like a draft excluder. He’s your boyfriend, and he made you feel like shit.”
“I don’t even know that he is my boyfriend,” said Will. “We haven’t exactly defined the relationship.”
“Are you joking?” Jordan huffed. “You’ve been spending every available minute together.”
“He’s met your sister,” April pointed out.
“He’s been chasing you ever since he first saw you as a redhead in a black cocktail dress, for heaven’s sake,” Jordan added, slapping the counter. “And he hurt you.”
“I…” Will paused, as if considering crucial new evidence. “You’re right. You’re totally right!”
“As per.” Jordan blinked slowly, as if tired by the burden of always being right.
“He made me feel really shit right after having sex with me. That’s so not OK.”
“Literally what I just said.”
“So…what do I do?”
“Talk to him about it,” said April.
“Hmm.” Will nodded noncommittally.
“What have his messages been like since last night?” she asked.
“Hmm.”
“He hasn’t even texted you?” Jordan animatedly began gathering his phone and his keys from where he had discarded them on the countertop earlier. “Right. April, hold down the fort. Will, you are coming with me.”
* * *
•••••••••
Jordan insisted on driving him across town to the set to confront Patrick there and then. It all felt very empowering and get-up-and-go until they ended up getting caught in traffic on Digbeth High Street because they forgot that half the city was in a perpetual state of being dug up and repaved.
