Mr. Knight/A Jordan Knight Fanfic ✔️

25

25. imagery

When the final book is signed, the final hand shaken, and final platitudes exchanged, I walk wearily to the first row and sink into a padded seat. I stare at the shadowed stage and for the hundredth time, regret my odd quirk of always wanting to be the last to leave a signing.

Besides Kim, who's gathering our belongings, the videographer is the only one left in the now-cavernous space. As I watch, he finishes packing the tools of his trade, gives me a nod and wave, and departs.

Kim sinks down beside me, our purses at her feet. "Holy shit that was draining. I need a drink."

I smirk tiredly. "Preaching to the choir."

She fixes bloodshot blue eyes on my face. "How do you do it, Darcy? How do you stand up there and talk about that night over and over again?"

This isn't the first time she's asked me, but tonight's Q&A was especially difficult. An unintended side-effect of Jordan's challenge was that every question was more probing and personal than the last.

I shrug, closing my tired eyes. "Honestly, speaking about it has been more cathartic than the writing was. Not that it ever becomes rote, but the repetition helps me see it for what it is—something that happened, not something that defines me."

She's silent for a few moments, mulling over my words. "Yeah, well, you're way more spiritually advanced than me. I almost killed that bitch who accused you of reinforcing rape culture because you never pressed charges."

I wince, remembering what happened right after the woman asked the—yes, blatantly accusatory—question.

Kim continues, "Although it was pretty awesome watching Jordan Knight go to town on her."

And he had, yanking the microphone away from my stunned face and scathingly educating the woman on evidence versus hearsay, statute of limitations, the emotional cost of a public trial, and the statistics of a favorable verdict.

"You know," Kim muses through a yawn, "you guys looked super hot up there together. And he's not your professor anymore..."

I snort. "Been there done that."

Kim bolts upright and grabs my arm, enlivened by the possibility of gossip. I crack open an eye and chuckle at her rapt, open-mouthed expression.

"Oh my God, you've boned Jordan Knight? The Jordan Knight? Why did I not know this?"

I laugh again to cover the squeeze of pain in my chest. "It's water under the bridge."

"Is it, little muse?"

Kim gasps, I choke on breath, and we swivel in our chairs to see Jordan sitting several rows behind us. In the dim lighting, his hair in disarray and his feet propped on the row before him, he looks even more rakish than usual.

More accustomed to his blinding sex appeal than Kim, I recover first. "You were eavesdropping, really? How old are you?"

He grins and I swear I can feel Kim swoon. A second later she's on her feet and grabbing her purse.

"I have to, um, go," she stammers, ruining the lie with a giggle.

Resigned, I watch her hasten from the hall. The heavy door squeals as it opens and clanks as it closes behind her.

Jordan doesn't bother with the stairs at the end of the row, easily traversing the space between us by virtue of balance and long legs.

When he plops into Kim's recent seat, I drop my head back and once again close my eyes, this time to savor his presence. To allow myself to imagine a different past and a new future for us. But my fantasy is short-lived, collapsing under the weight of his fable's final words.