She Gets What She Wants [Watty's 2016-2018]

Chapter 23

A/N Hey guys if you liked this chapter please vote, if your getting the feels for Derek or Jordan please comment, and share this story with other readers! Thanks a bunches.

"Jasmine?" My eyes open at the sound of a boy tenderly shaking my shoulder.

"Hmm?"

Jordan brushes some of my hair behind my ear, and that's when I remember that's he's really here. I'm not imagining him. AND HE'S TOUCHING ME. Just my ear, but it's contact. I guess I'm not completely revolting in this state.

"Can you sit up for me?" He asks nicely. Like I'm a child that needs encouraging. Which I do because my head is starting to hurt, and I much rather sleep at the moment. Jordan can stay of course, I'm just not in my right mind to talk to him. Much less kiss him, and sweep him off his feet...again.

Once I'm upright with the blanket covering my lower half, Jordan situates himself right next to me with the bowl in his hands. But when I try to take it he shakes his head.

"Don't strain yourself, I'm taking care of you remember?" His flashes me a blinding smile, and my temperature rises. I'm sure he can see the sheen of sweat on my forehead from how close he is to me. I can smell his cologne, and point out all the charming little moles on his face.

"Open wide," Jordan coos.

"What?!" I shake myself out of lala land.

"Soup?" Oh, he's referring to the soup. Obviously. He's lifted a spoon near my face.

"Oh..." Dirty dirty Jasmine.

You must be sick in more ways than one.

I open my mouth, and he slips the spoon in. I taste it, but it doesn't taste like regular canned soup. Looking down at the bowl, I see there's other vegetables poking out, and it's almost a different color than I usually know it to be.

"Umm...Did you put other stuff in it?" My voice sounds hoarse, and I'm kind of scared I'm losing it.

"Yah, personally I think chicken soup tastes kind of like – "

"Sick person food?" I offer.

"Yah," he chuckles, "So I wanted to add some vegetables and a couple of other stuff I saw in your kitchen." He scoops up a little more, and blows on it before feeding it to me.

"It's an improvised version of my mom's recipe."

"So you know how to cook and all that?" Obviously!

He shrugs, "My mom's a chef, so I know a couple of things." A couple? That soup looks and tastes like it just won Master Chef!

"A chef?!" I say in amazement, and then cough to the side. I don't want him to see me hacking away.

"You alright?" He puts the bowl on the coffee table, and pats me on the back.

"Yah," I say recovering. I wipe my eyes, and sit back sighing.

"Here have some more," Jordan continues bringing the spoon up to my mouth after making sure every time that it's not too hot.

Even when I tell him I'm full, he urges me to finish. In the meanwhile, he's talking to me about his mother the highly acclaimed chef. I listen intrigued, and am surprised I've never heard of him taking a culinary class. This soup shows some real promise for him in the food industry.

I mess up frozen foods even when I follow the instructions.

"That was really good."

"Thanks," Jordan gets up, and leaves to go wash the dishes.

I wish my brother would learn something from him.

I look out the window just in time to catch lightning.

"I should probably go, and let you sleep," Jordan walks back into the room with those amazing jeans that just look so great.

Hey, I'm sick not blind right?

"Okay," I nod getting up to open the door for him.

"No stay right there. I got it." So I sit back down, and watch him zip up his jacket. Not the same one that I wore the day before yesterday, but an equally nice one that emphasizes his attractiveness.

"Thanks again," I croak. Now I know I'm losing my voice for sure.

"I left some soup in the pot for you to eat later," he grabs his umbrella.

"Got it." I turn sideways with my head resting back, and Jordan returns to me unexpectedly.

"Bye babe," Jordan kisses my forehead, and walks out the door.

Babe? Did I hear that right? I just got called babe. does he call every girl babe or does that mean something? I pray it's the latter.

"Bye," I say but he's gone. Gone with the rain that brought him in. I reach for a tissue and relish in the fact that Jordan was kind enough to buy me my necessities, and cook some bomb soup.

***

By the time I'm feeling a little better, it's darker out. I plan to go get the rest of the soup Jordan (!!!!) left for me, but there's a 6'3 disturbance laying too close to me.

"You look terrible," Chris says sipping at something in a blue bowl.

"Hey! That's my soup!" I lunge for the bowl but he moves so I get tangled in the now too warm blanket.

"I didn't see your name on it," he slurps the rest of it down in my face.

"You don't even like chicken soup!"

"Oh that's what this was?" He examines the remnants of veggie pieces.

"Yes you idiot! I was supposed to finish- " That last word comes out as a squeak, and then no more words are audible.

I'm officially voice less.

"You should get that checked," Chris points at my throat, and proceeds to ditch me in my struggle to compose myself.

Now I have no soup, and no voice. But I still have an asshole older brother.