♡  —  ❛ well  look  what  the  cat  dragged  in...ya  can  BOW  ta  the  double  champ  now, ❜  becky  teased  as  she  spotted  jordan  backstage  on  his  own.  despite  their  long-distance  chats,  it  surprised  becky  how  happy  she  was  to  see  him  there.  the  softest  fluttering  in  her  stomach.  he  was  there.  in  person.  only  a  few  feet  from  her.  a  little  voice  in  her  head  remarked  that  he  looked  good  in  his  suit  but  she  swatted  it  away.  still  her  smirk  now  turned  to  a  genuine  smile  as  she  stepped  closer.  ❛ good  ta  finally  see  ya  again,  devlin. ❜

       HIS HEAD SNAPS UP, EYES GLANCING TO THE DOOR BEHIND HIM. “Shite. SHITE.” He scrambles to his feet, his mind racing. She’d told him she would be away for a few weeks. She’d come back early, which really shouldn’t have surprised Jordan at all. Yet here he was, scrambling to get out of bed, to get ISLA out of the room before they’re both skinned alive by his fucking leech girlfriend. “Ya need ta go. Now. Come ‘ere. She’s gonna come up in a few minutes.” His heart is racing, head spinning. This isn’t how he wanted this to go down, isn’t how he wanted this relationship to end, isn’t how he wanted whatever the hell this was with Isla to start. “She wasn’t supposed —- Shite.”

         SHE’S ALL BUT SEALED HER FATE, HIS RESOLVE SOLIDIFYING at her words. A smirk spread across the Irishman’s face, head tilting to the side. “Don’t tell me ‘m annoyin’ ye,” he said with a soft laugh. “Most people find my accent charmin’, sexy even. Dunno, I tend ta t’ink ‘s all bullocks but ‘m not in the place ta judge.” His smile turns vicious, sharpening into something dangerous. He couldn’t help it. He was having too much fun. “Besides, innit a bit o’ the pot callin’ the kettle black? Ye run yer mouth a lot too.” His shoulders lift in a shrug. “T’ink t’is is jus’ payback.”

    He blinked, head tilting to the side as Charli spoke. Jordan had been called many things by many people. but this was a first. It was safe to say he was momentarily caught off guard. “Dunno abou’ t’at,” he answered slowly, a momentary frown crossing his features. “Been told ‘m more of a devil t’an ‘n angel.” He paused for a moment, blue eyes lifting to meet hers before he grinned. “You on the ot’er hand? Must’ve fell from heaven.”

     Cue the rolling of his eyes and tilt of his head. “And I thought I was dramatic,” he murmured, with a smirk. Hand lifted to scratch at his beard before he spoke again. “I kissed yer temple love. Don’t go ‘avin’ a ‘eart attack. ‘S not anythin’ special.” Deny. That’s what he was doing. Deny that there was anything else in his head, any other feeling racing through his veins. Denial was the best medicine.