Maybe

07: Murderous Glares and Dramatic Pauses

[[ A/N: Here's a little update :) Laptop's still broken though xx ]]

Tori POV

"YOU ARE SIX FOOT ONE OF PURE MUSCLE," I shriek at Jordan, pounding my fists on his back. "NOW PUT ME DOWN."

"Five foot seven, actually," he corrects me, not budging. "But it's nice to know you think I'm tall."

"JORDAN JUST PUT ME DOWN."

"Five foot seven," he insists.

"FIVE FOOT SEVEN OF PURE SEXINESS," I shriek, laughing. He laughs as he puts me down and I punch him in the stomach.

Ouch.

As I rub my fist, his laughter bouncing off the walls of my flat, Mum walks in. "Driving up to Manchester today?"

"Yup," I say, popping the 'p'. "Me and Jordan are going to find a place together."

"Sounds good," she says. "How does Niall feel about it?"

Jordan stops laughing and I feel him stiffening by my side. I shrug. "I haven't told him."

She shoots me a look. "You probably should. With him being your boyfriend and all."

Blushing, I reply, "He is not my boyfriend." As I turn to get my car keys, I see that Jordan's face has gone completely expressionless.

"Whatever you say, Tori," Mum says cheekily, seemingly oblivious to Jordan's current state. "Have fun, kids."

"And you, Penny," Jordan says brightly, apparently having regained his cheerful manner. "Let's go, Tori."

"What was that about?" I hiss as we get into my car.

"What was what about?" he asks innocently as I back out of the carpark.

"You looked like you were going to murder someone when Mum mentioned Niall."

"No, I didn't."

"You did."

"I didn't."

"Yes, you did."

"Look, Tori, I just don't want him to hurt you," Jordan says.

"And what's to say he will?" I challenge, turning on the GPS. "University of Manchester."

"Going to the University of Manchester," my GPS replies.

"He's a massive celebrity, Tori," Jordan counters. "He's got thousands of girls waiting on him."

"He chose me," I say, brushing him off.

"Calculating," my GPS interrupts. I shoot a glare in its direction before realising it's futile, because it can't see.

Or react, for that matter.

"Doesn't mean he can't un-choose you," Jordan retorts.

"You're just jealous."

"Turn left at the intersection."

"YOU DON'T KNOW ME," I yell at the GPS, but I follow its instructions anyway.

"YOU ARE VICTORIA MAY WINCHESTER. OF COURSE I KNOW YOU," Jordan yells back.

"What the hell, Jordan?"

"You said I don't know you."

"I was talking to the GPS."

"Only you," he says, shaking his head.

"What's that supposed to mean?" I protest.

"You're talking to a GPS," he says. "It's an inanimate object."