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We reach a shadowed alcove away from the hustle and bustle going on in the club.
The music’s still pounding, but it’s muffled a bit here.
Bama leans against the wall, arms crossed, his golden blond curls catching the dim light.
I take a moment to study him—athletic, but not overly muscular.
There’s an intensity in his posture I haven’t seen before, which only makes me wonder why he wants to have this little chat.
I lean against the opposite wall, trying to play it cool. “What’s up?”
He shifts his weight, looking down for a second before meeting my gaze again.
His eyes are searching, almost vulnerable. It’s not like him.
Usually, Bama’s all confidence, the guy who can charm anyone with a smile and a joke.
Tonight, though, there’s something else lurking beneath the surface.
“Jordyn,” he starts, voice barely above a whisper. “I’ve been wanting to tell you something for a while now.”
“Yeah?” I tilt my head, intrigued. “So, spit it out.” I make sure to layer on a playful tone, because he’s obviously nervous.
“I don’t wanna be too loud,” he says, glancing around.
“Okay then, this better?” I step closer, the tension between us thickening.
He takes a deep breath, and for a moment, I think he’s going to back out.
But then he locks eyes with me, and I see that fire in them again, the fire that beckons me.
“Jordyn,” he says, each word measured, deliberate. “I’ve had my eyes on you for a long time. This isn’t just some one time fling for me. I want more, and I hope you do too.”
My heart skips a beat, caught off guard by his admission.
Part of me wants to laugh it off, make a joke, but the look on his face tells me this is no laughing matter—he really feels this way.
“Wow, Bama,” I say, struggling to find the right words. “I . . . I just got out of something bad, you know that.”
“Yeah, I know,” he replies, stepping closer. “But I’m taking my shot now. I don’t care about your past. I care about how good we could be together.”
His bluntness hits me like a punch, but in a weird way, I respect it. No games, no bullshit. Just raw honesty.
“You’re serious?” I ask, searching his face for any hint of doubt.
“Dead serious,” he says, eyes never leaving mine.
A smile tugs at my lips despite my reservations.
He’s got guts, I’ll give him that. And maybe, just maybe, that’s exactly what I need right now.
“Okay, Bama,” I say, finally letting the smile break through. “Let’s see where this goes.”
His face lights up, and for the first time in a long time, I feel a flicker of hope. Maybe this can work.
Out of nowhere, the joy on his face shifts to something else entirely.
“Hey,” I nudge his arm playfully, trying to shake off the weight in the air. “What’s with the long face? You look like you just lost your favorite surfboard.”
