Chapter 9 - Jordan

Just 4 days after we got back to the States we had our first fight. 

We were at my apartment out on the balcony, sitting on cushions side by side watching the lake, eating fruit, and drinking wine. 

We had just finished a shoot and weren’t talking about anything out of the ordinary until I brought up The Rabbit Hole. 

Leo checked his phone and started gathering his things into his bag. “That reminds me, I have to go to work in a bit.” 

“Do you like working there?” I ask.

“It’s alright.” He shrugs nonchalantly. “The tips are good.”

I think back to the $200 tip we left for him. I’m sure that and more is common for servers there.

“What about the creepy men?”

Leo lets out a short laugh. “Yeah, that’s the only downside. That boy you met, Eli, had a stalker for months that would wait outside for him.”

Well shit. Good thing I didn’t wait for him that night.

“Has that ever happened to you?”

“Nope. Men are too intimidated by me.” 

My lips rise slightly. I mean I can see why, but that didn’t stop me.

“Do you even have to work there anymore?”

He stands and starts putting on his shoes, balancing on one foot. “What do you mean?”

I stand too. “I mean with what I’m paying you for modeling couldn't that replace that income?”

Leo pauses and shoots me a derisive look. “So you want me to become financially dependent on you?”

I quickly shake my head. “No, that’s not what I’m saying.”

“How is you telling me to quit my higher-paying job so that you can pay me instead not saying that?” He continues, visibly annoyed now. “Or is that not what you were saying?” 

He faces me, eyes stone cold, the first time I’ve seen him like that. I open my mouth to speak but nothing comes out.

I mean technically yes, but I didn’t think he would react like this. Even though he works less now, his shifts go well past midnight into the early morning hours. Some days he works both of his jobs with no rest from 8 am until 3 am. 

But he doesn’t have to do that anymore. All of the shoots we’ve done, although they haven’t been released, have been approved and the brands have paid me which I split with him. And the pay isn’t small by any means, probably more than he’s making at the restaurant and coffee shop combined. But I have a feeling that’s not the reason he’s upset at what I said. 

From getting to know him over the past month, one thing I’ve learned is that money is a touchy subject for him. The few times we’ve gone out to eat he’s paid for his meal and insisted on paying for mine. Which I don’t fault him for. We have a lot in common when it comes to struggling with that: both grew up poor and were first-generation immigrants.

The difference in our upbringing is that I was a sheltered child, surrounded by people like me. I had Mason who was as poor as me, my little brother, my grandma, and my mom. I never even thought about money because my mom never made it obvious we didn’t have any. Even to this day, she’s never brought it up but it’s so clear in hindsight.

Leo grew up with rich kids who wore thousand-dollar jackets and were gifted Bentleys for their sweet 16. He was always in last place in a race he wasn’t even qualified for.

“Or do you just not want me working there because men get to see me in a slutty leather one-piece and you don’t?”

I again open my mouth to reply but close it. This is not how I intended this conversation to go. If I knew he’d react like this I wouldn’t have brought it up at all.  Ever since I started visiting him at his barista job he told me that I shouldn't visit him at the Rabbit Hole. ‘The other guys are starting to be weird, everyone thinks you’re my sugar daddy’ he said. Knowing now how he feels about money I see why he was so quick to tell me to stop coming. 

“Leo, why would you even think that?” I mean I don’t love the idea of other men gawking at him but I don’t say that. He looks up at me and when I move closer he moves a step back. “Well, you didn’t have a problem with me working there when you met me.”

My head starts to spin. I can't even argue with that because he’s right. I’m being a hypocrite right now. The horny monkey part of my brain is thinking that I wouldn't have said anything if he didn’t forbid me from going there. By the 4th time I went there I wasn’t even trying to avert my gaze from his thighs and chest below his skin-tight bodysuit. I was uncharacteristically and shamelessly eating him up every time he leaned in or brushed my hand. And every single time I didn’t reciprocate no matter how badly I wanted to. 

I take too long to respond because he pulls out his phone again. “I have to leave or I’ll be late.”

I follow him inside through the balcony door. “Leo, wait,” I say but he ignores me and keeps walking. I scurry around him and make it to the door before he does, blocking him. He frowns hard and crosses his arms. If this was in any other context I’d be laughing right now because what I’m doing reminds me of what Jamie used to do. He would run and block the door every time my mom was leaving for work. 

“I don’t want you to leave here upset with me.” 

 One rule my mom had in our house was to never leave or go to sleep mad at or upset with someone. My aunt left in the middle of the night after an argument with my uncle and crashed her car into a ravine. He blamed himself so much that despite being extremely healthy in his 50’s, died of a heart attack a month later. Apparently dying of a broken heart is a real thing.

“I’m not upset,” he huffs but his face says otherwise. 

“Then,” I start slowly. “Let me at least drive you.”

He mulls it over for a second and when I think he’s about to protest, he concedes. 

“Okay,” he sighs softly. “You can drive me.” 

——

We both drive the short distance in silence, the low hum of a Pink Floyd song filling the car. 

A million thoughts have been racing through my head. 

How did we get here? What did I say that made him react this way?

We make it to The Rabbit Hole and I park across the street. He unbuckles his seatbelt and I turn to him.

“Leo-”

“Look-”

We both talk at the same time. I nod at him. “Go ahead.”

He stays facing forward for a few moments and takes a deep breath. “I overreacted a bit,” he says, turning to me. “I’m sorry. That was childish.”

He looks more sad than upset anymore. His eyes are pale and there’s an intense sadness behind them. Is he scared of losing me or am I being too presumptuous? We only just met but we’ve already admitted to each other it feels like we’ve known each other for a lifetime. 

I shake my head a few times. “Your emotions were perfectly valid. Never apologize for having them. I didn’t intend to make you feel bad so I’m the only one who should be sorry here.” I adjust myself in my seat so my entire body is turned to him and place my hand over his. “I’m serious and I completely understand where you’re coming from, I do not want you to be financially dependent on me.”

He’s quiet, looking down at my hand on his. “If I ever say anything in the future that upsets you please tell me,” I continue. “You can yell and scream at me if it makes you feel better. But you never have to bottle it up or any other emotion in front of me.”

He’s still silent. I wonder if he can hear my heart pounding out of my chest. I don’t know how we got here but I know I need to do everything in my power to make sure it doesn’t end here. 

“Leo,” I start again. “You’re really special to me.” 

This gets a response out of him although not the one I was expecting. He scoffs and retracts his hand. “And how many people have you said that to?”

I shake my head, confused. “I’ve never said that to anyone.”

I take his chin to turn his face toward me. I’m half expecting he’ll resist but feel relieved when he lets me. “I don’t care how cliche this sounds, but you’ve made me feel emotions I didn’t think I was capable of feeling. Whenever I’m around you I feel this deep sense of peace and comfort. Like I knew you in some past life. I didn’t mean to imply you should rely on me or even need me at all. You’re the last person who’d need anyone. And I fucking love how independent you are. I just wanted to see if I could help take a load off of your shoulder. But I never considered the fact you wouldn’t want that. So again, I apologize.“

I search his eyes for any kind of response. At this point, I’ll take anything other than this silence.

Leo finally turns his head out of my grip and looks out of the window. “Jeez,” he murmurs while wiping his face. “It’s so hard to even be mad at you. How are you so…” I wait but he doesn’t continue.

“So…?,” I prompt.

“Fucking perfect,” Leo finishes, and laughs and gets a little quieter. “You’re way too good for me.”

My heart sinks at those words. Before I can think, I’m halfway across the center console, 2 inches from his face with my hands on the sides of his head wiping his teary, red cheeks. Our eyes flit between each other’s eyes and lips for a few moments. His chest rises and falls.

Before I can say anything he closes the gap and our lips part each other.

——

We somehow found our way back to my apartment.

The last time I had sex was in Japan. Usually, I can go months without sleeping with anyone but I had no idea how pent up I’ve been. The longest I’ve had sex is 20 minutes, 30 at most. Never 3 hours. The sexual tension between us over the last few weeks finally came to a head tonight. No pun intended.

Both visibly exhausted, we lay side by side not saying anything but laughing intermittently, for 10 minutes. It’s not so much that what we just did is funny, it’s the fact it took this long to happen. I swear at some point we were both just waiting for the other one to make a move. 

Leo finally breaks the silence. “I have a confession to make.”

He lays on his side facing me and I’m on my back next to him. His hair is messy but not like a I just woke up bedhead messy but a type of messy that professional hairstylists deliberately style actors’ hair.

“Yeah?”

“That night you came into The Rabbit Hole, I saw you first. Someone else was supposed to be your server but I asked them to switch tables with me because I said I knew you. In reality, I just thought you were hot.”

I flip to my side, propping my body up on an elbow. “Wait a minute so you’re the stalker here?!”

He whips his head back into uncontrollable laughter and I can’t help but laugh too. 

“Well, I’m glad you did that,” I say when we finally calm down.“Because we wouldn’t be here right now. And I would have never known I could experience these feelings for someone.” And it’s true.

From the first day I met him, even behind the mask I knew. I knew this was someone I wanted in my life. The gut feeling was so strong I couldn’t let it go.

“Sooo, does this mean you’re going to send me away to some other photographer?”

Ah. My ‘no fucking my model’ rule. I’ve had that rule for so long because I saw how complicated it made things for photographers that slept with their models. The blackmail, affairs and bribing. I never wanted anything to get in the way of becoming the best photographer I could be. “No, absolutely not.” I tell him. He’ mine.

“You know,” he moves closer and begins to trace the contours of my biceps. “If you ever quit photography you would be a good therapist. That’s what I wanted to be.”

Wanted to be? I’ve asked him what type of career he’s wanted before but he never mentioned that. All he said is he didn’t know.

I roll over to face him. “Why do you say that?”

“You always know what to say to make me feel better.” He smiles, eyes sparkling.

I lean in and kiss his forehead a couple of times.

“Okay stop!” Leo starts giggling. “You’re going to make me fall in love with you.” 

My chest pounds. 

You’re going to make me fall in love with you.

That sentence rings over and over in my head as I watch him step out of bed and put on the sweatpants I was just wearing. He looks back at me to make sure I’m watching and gives me an innocent smile before walking to the bathroom. 

You’re going to make me fall in love with you.

Damn. I think I’m already halfway there.