𝘮𝘰𝘳𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘯 𝘢 𝘮𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘯𝘵 9

Chapter 9:

Reflection

Renee

Renee told herself she was fine.

She'd made the right choice.

Walking away was the only thing she could do.

So why did it feel like shit?

It had been almost two weeks since she'd last seen Jordan—since that night at the bar, since their fight, since she'd said, I can't do this anymore.

And yet, Jordan was still in her head.

It was fucking annoying.

She tried to stay busy. Buried herself in work. Went out more. Hooked up with someone once, just to prove she could—but it had been nothing, empty, and she'd left feeling worse than before.

Because none of it worked.

No matter how much she tried to move on, Jordan was still there, lingering in the back of her mind like a song she couldn't turn off.

And that was the problem, wasn't it?

Jordan wasn't just some thing she could brush off.

She was Jordan.

She was the late-night texts and the way her voice went soft in the morning when she was still half asleep. She was the sarcastic smirks, the way she pulled Renee closer in her sleep even when she claimed she didn't cuddle.

She was all of it.

And Renee was fucking in love with her.

The realization hit her like a punch to the gut.

Shit.

She ran a hand down her face, exhaling.

How had she let this happen?

This wasn't the plan.

This wasn't supposed to happen.

And yet, somehow, it had.

Somewhere between the late nights and the lazy mornings, between the teasing insults and the quiet confessions, she had fallen for Jordan.

And now, she didn't know what the fuck to do about it.

She sat on her bed, phone in hand, staring at Jordan's name in her messages.

She could text her.

Just say something.

But what?

Hey, I miss you.

No. Too much.

Hope you're doing okay.

Too little.

She sighed, tossing the phone onto her nightstand.

She wasn't going to be the one to break first.

If Jordan wanted to talk, she could damn well reach out.

So Renee rolled onto her side, staring at the ceiling.

And pretended it didn't fucking hurt.

Jordan

Jordan was losing her mind.

She hadn't meant for things to get this fucked up.

She'd thought—when Renee walked away—that maybe it was for the best. That maybe it was easier this way.

But it didn't feel easy.

It felt like shit.

Because for the past two weeks, nothing had felt right.

Not the bar. Not her apartment. Not anything.

Because Renee wasn't there.

And Jordan hated it.

She hated this ache in her chest, this feeling like she'd lost something important and didn't know how to get it back.

She wasn't good at this.

At feelings.

At wanting someone like this.

Because it wasn't just physical.

It hadn't been for a long time.

She'd known it for weeks, maybe months. She just hadn't wanted to admit it.

Because admitting it meant wanting more.

And wanting more meant risking everything.

Jordan didn't do relationships.

Not because she couldn't—but because she knew how they ended.

She'd seen it. Felt it.

How love could turn into something messy and painful and ugly.

She'd spent years keeping people at a distance, making sure no one ever got close enough to hurt her.

And then Renee came along.

And somehow, without even trying, she had wrecked all of Jordan's carefully built walls.

She had snuck into Jordan's life, into her heart, without permission, without warning.

And now, Jordan didn't know how to exist without her.

She sat on her couch, staring at her phone, Renee's name sitting at the top of her messages.

She wanted to text her.

She should text her.

But she didn't know what to say.

I miss you?

Too much.

I'm sorry?

Too little.

So instead, she did nothing.

And hated herself for it.

Renee

She couldn't sleep.

Her mind kept replaying everything—every moment with Jordan, every touch, every conversation.

It was stupid how much she missed her.

She groaned, flipping onto her stomach, burying her face in her pillow.

Get over it.

But she couldn't.

She picked up her phone again, scrolling through their old texts.

They had talked every day.

Until now.

Until Jordan let her walk away.

And that was what hurt the most.

If Jordan really cared, wouldn't she have said something?

Wouldn't she have fought for this?

The thought made her chest ache.

She wanted to believe this meant something.

But maybe she'd been wrong.

Maybe Jordan really was okay without her.

And maybe that was her answer.

She exhaled sharply and tossed her phone away again.

She needed to stop torturing herself.

She needed to move on.

Even if she didn't know how.

Jordan

She was at the bar, nursing a drink, barely listening to the conversation around her.

Normally, this place was her escape.

Tonight, it just felt wrong.

Because Renee wasn't here.

She had gotten used to looking across the room and seeing her. The way she would lean against the bar, laughing at something someone said. The way her eyes would find Jordan's, like it was effortless, like it was natural.

But now, Jordan just felt... lost.

"Dude, are you even listening?"

Jordan blinked, realizing her friend was talking to her.

"Yeah," she muttered.

He rolled his eyes. "No, you're not."

She shrugged. "Just tired."

He gave her a look. "This about Renee?"

Her jaw tightened.

He sighed. "You're an idiot, you know that?"

Jordan huffed. "Thanks."

"Seriously," he said, leaning in. "You're miserable. Just fucking talk to her."

Jordan swallowed, staring into her drink.

She wanted to.

But she was still scared.

Of what, though?

Losing her?

She'd already done that.

And she was fucking miserable.

So maybe it was time to do something about it.

Renee

She was halfway through a writing process when she felt her phone buzz in her pocket.

She pulled it out, glancing at the screen.

Her heart nearly stopped.

Jordan: Hey.

Just that.

Nothing else.

No apology. No explanation.

Just hey.

She stared at the message, fingers hovering over the keyboard.

She could ignore it.

Let Jordan feel what it was like to be left hanging.

But she knew she wouldn't.

She exhaled and typed back.

Renee: Hey.

A pause. Then—

Jordan: Can we talk?

Her stomach flipped.

She hesitated.

She could say no.

Could make this easy, walk away for good.

But the truth was, she didn't want to.

So she typed out a single word.

Renee: Yeah.