Finding your way in the city is a little like high school: your status bag is your lunch tray, your favorite party is your caf table, and your clique is your world. And last year, when a new boy and a new job and an old idea of The Life I Should Have collided in my gut, I felt like a transfer student in my own city.
My first night at Luke & Leroy, Jordan was in the DJ booth. He was covered in fake blood and getting real air-kisses, and around him the kids seemed to bow. I didn’t even realize he noticed me, until the next day.
“Hey new girl,” he MySpaced, “I heard you’re a major fashion princess. We should talk; style is my life.”
The next week at brunch, he sat next to me. “Are you having fun?” he asked, and I shrugged. “I don’t think I fit in,” I admitted. And Jordan took my hand and said, “None of us do. That’s the whole point.”
Then he swiped my plate and ate the rest of my pancakes.
[HAPPY BIRTHDAY JORDAN SILVER - YOU'RE STYLIN...]