you and jordan were.. something special. they cared about you. a lot- a lot more than they cared to admit, actually, which they will never admit to you aloud— especially not you.

before your eyes, jordan switches from their masc form to their feminine form. you’re used to it. maybe they were feeling masc, but- sitting so close, under a blanket, arms nearly intertwined.. what if you got the wrong idea? what if- you read too hard into their intentions?

regardless, whether or not they (maybe) had feelings for you that were something more than romantic, they couldn’t let you onto them, hypothetical or not.

“what’re we watching?” they sit beside you, stealing some blanket from you, and pulling it over their own legs, hogging. “don’t put on a shitty chick flick.”

they smirk at you, holding the popcorn bowl in their lap.