Sweet Caroline

#42 Catching up with the ex

"I see you've still got that foul mouth on you," Jordan replies, shaking his head. "Such an innocent little girl using such awful curse words. Never liked that about you, to be honest."

"Yeah well, I don't actually like anything about you anymore," I shoot back, not in the mood for his shit. I never saw him after that horrible day he yelled at me when the condom broke. That's... wow, that's almost six years ago now, even though the feelings stirring up in me now that he's so close don't feel that old. They feel fresh as hell. I guess that's what happens when you never truly get closure.

Jordan just laughs and takes the next corner a bit too sharp, forcing me to brace myself against the car door so I don't slam into it. Stupid fucker.

"Last I heard you were in France," I spit out. Ever since dropping out of college, Jordan had been trying to find himself. First, he tried to do that by hopping from job to job, drinking a lot and ending up in my bed at the end of pretty much every night. When we broke up – or well, when he left without saying goodbye after the pregnancy scare – he moved to Europe. We had a few mutual friends from back in high school, so I had heard bits and pieces of what he'd been up to every once in a while. He'd gone to culinary school in Germany, worked in a few restaurants all over Europe and screwed his way through every country he lived in.

"France was temporary," he replies, sounding completely at ease. Why doesn't he seem affected by seeing me whereas I'm completely thrown by him? "My dad got sick a few months ago, so I figured now is as good a time as any to head back home and see what's up around here."

"Oh," I respond, feeling stupid for being so rude to him. "Sorry to hear about your dad." His father is a sweet man, someone I always felt at ease around. I remember him driving the two of us to parties, picking us up in the middle of the night, laughing with my parents at barbecues, cooking for us when I stayed for dinner at their place.

"He'll be fine," Jordan assures me. "He had a heart attack, but he's doing alright now. I just don't want to be living on another continent, you know. Besides, my girlfriend and I just broke up, so it was time for me to move on anyway."

"Yeah, you do that well," I can't help myself from saying, "moving on." It's a shitty thing to say, but I'm still angry at him for the way handled things with me.

"Not my finest moment," Jordan agrees. "I've actually been thinking about calling you ever since I got back, but I figured I'm the last person you want to hear from."

"You're not the last person, but you're certainly in my top five of least favorite people."

Jordan laughs at that, sounding completely unbothered by my hostile demeanor. We're at Shaughna's apartment by now and he pulls up, getting out before I can to open my door for me.

"Can I come in?" he asks, gesturing to the front door. "I'd love to catch up."

I cross my arms over my chest and look at him – really look at him. And to be honest, he looks like crap. He's got dark circles underneath his eyes, his shirt is wrinkled and a bit dirty and he obviously needs a haircut, since his light blonde hair is falling in front of his eyes.

"No," I decide, even though I'm curious what he's been up to these past years. "I don't think that's a good idea."

For the first time since I got into his car, his face falls. "Oh. Okay. Have a nice night."

I grunt inwardly as he moves back to his car and I know I should just head in, but I can't. Even though part of me hates him, we have a past. He was my first love, my first everything. He may have been a dick to me, but that doesn't mean I haven't wondered about him all these years.