Chapter Text
The sun was barely up, the sky still soft and pink and Jordan couldn't quite believe they had willingly roused themself from the comfort of their plush bed at such an ungodly hour. And all of that to traipse about in a pair of mud-caked boots, trailing behind an overly enthusiastic Annabeth.
But they knew exactly how they'd gotten here.
It had started with a knock. Three sharp raps that had Jordan looking up from their laptop, squinting at the clock. 6:07 AM. They'd already been up for an hour reviewing quarterly reports, because vacation or not, the company didn't stop running. Jordan saved the document, closed the laptop, and crossed the room. They were in their male form with just grey lounge pants and glasses on because it was too early for contacts, and no one was supposed to be seeing them anyway.
Marie had one hand up, clearly mid-knock when the door swung open. She was about to say something, but whatever it was died somewhere between her mouth and the air. Her eyes flicked from Jordan’s face to their bare chest, then lower for half a second, then snapped back up so fast it would have been impressive if it were not so obvious.
"Can I help you?" Jordan arched one knowing eyebrow.
Marie recovered, crossing her arms. "It's six in the morning."
"I'm aware."
"So what are you doin' up?" Marie’s gaze betrayed her again, dropping for a split second before she dragged it back up, cheeks coloring pink.
"I could ask you the same thing, considering you're the one knocking on my door."
Marie leaned to the side, trying to see past them into the room. Jordan shifted to block her view on instinct. "Are you seriously workin' right now? It's a Saturday."
"I'm trying to make the most of being here, remember? That's the whole point of this trip."
"The point of this trip is to have an actual break, not sit in your room crunchin' numbers before the sun's all the way up." Marie tilted her head, studying them and Jordan grimaced.
"Is Jordan up? Can we ask 'em now?" Annabeth’s unmistakable voice piqued from somewhere behind Marie.
Marie sighed. "I said maybe, kid."
"That's basically yes!" Annabeth squeezed past Marie's elbow to get a better look into the room, then stopped, her face scrunching up in confusion. She looked at Jordan, then craned her neck to peer around them into the room, then back at Jordan. "Wait. Where's Mx. Li? Who are you?"
A familiar prickle of self-consciousness crept up the back of their neck and they didn't say anything, unsure of how to even explain this, which was apparently enough for Marie to read the whole situation in about two seconds flat.
"Hey, Beth?" Marie crouched down to Annabeth's level, one hand on her sister's shoulder. "You know how I have my thing? My powers?"
Jordan mentally reacted to that fact. Marie was a supe this entire time too? If Jordan hadn't felt such deep gratitude toward the older Moreau sister at that moment, they might have dwelled longer on that. Annabeth nodded, still sneaking glances at Jordan like she was trying to figure out a magic trick.
"Well, Jordan's got somethin' like that too. They can look different sometimes, like change how they look. So this is still Jordan, just... a different version. Same person though, okay?"
Annabeth considered this. She looked at Jordan again, studying their face with zero subtlety. Jordan stood very still in the doorway, acutely aware of how much they didn't want this to go sideways, and just how stupid it was that a child's opinion could make their stomach knot up like this.
"Ohhhh," Annabeth said finally. "Okay, that's pretty cool." She tilted her head. "I like this Mx. Li too. Your arms are bigger." Annabeth flexed her own biceps to make a point, and Jordan mirrored the gesture which delighted her even more (it was also a great moment for Marie to relish Jordan’s muscles).
And just like that, it was over. Annabeth had already moved on, her brain hopping onto more important matters at hand, like goats.
"Marie said we could ask if you were already up, and you're up!" She was bouncing on her boots, the brief moment of confusion already ancient history. "Please? Pretty pretty pretty pleaseee, it would be so cool if we saw 'em together before Pa takes me to school."
Jordan glanced at Marie over Annabeth's head and found her looking back, a little apologetic about the ambush. Jordan held her gaze for a beat longer than necessary. They should say no. They had emails to send, calls to schedule, a report that wasn't going to write itself. They were not here to look at goats.
"Give me five minutes."
And that was how Jordan found themself stuck with the Moreau sisters at 6 am, and to reiterate, to go see some goats.
"Come on, Mx.Li! We're almost there!" the young girl called over her shoulder.
“You know you can call me Jordan, I don’t mind.” Stifling a yawn, Jordan followed Annabeth and Marie through the dewy fields, their brow arching in mild surprise as they approached a small enclosure housing seven rambunctious goats.
"Okie dokie Jordan! That's Black Noir, and over there is Starlight. Oh, and that guy is A-Train!" Annabeth brightened, gesturing towards each one in turn as she rattled off their names.
Jordan smiled in amusement as they made the connection. "I think someone might be a fan of The Seven."
Marie chuckled, shooting Jordan a knowing look. "You have no idea. She’s obsessed with the whole hero thing, makes me feel like I should be stoppin’ banks from being robbed instead of herdin’ cows." Nudging Jordan playfully, Marie nodded towards the goat Annabeth had christened 'Maeve'. “That one's usually a grump, but she seems quite sweet on you," she teased. "Looks like you've found something in common."
"How fortunate of me." they drawled, their tone laced with dry sarcasm.
Annabeth tugged Jordan towards the enclosure, her face alight with excitement. "Here, Jordan, let me show you how to feed them!"
With gentle coaxing, Annabeth helped them offer a handful of feed to the curious goats. The usually prickly creature named Maeve nuzzled against their palm, its coarse beard tickling their skin. Jordan's eyes widened, and a peal of laughter bubbled forth from their lips, the sound rich and melodic in the crisp morning air.
Marie's gaze snapped towards Jordan, her expression one of disbelief. "No way," she breathed. "The royal highness is ticklish?"
Jordan's laughter subsided and they gave Marie a halfhearted glare, though the corners of their mouth twitched just slightly. "Shut up," they muttered, even as their fingers found their way back to Maeve's shaggy coat, gently stroking the docile creature.
"Okay! Now that Maeve likes you, it's time to milk 'em." Annabeth decided gleefully.
Jordan's hand stilled on Maeve's head. "I'm sorry?"
"Milk 'em!" Annabeth was already dragging a low stool and a metal pail out from the shelter. Jordan looked at Marie, who was leaning against the fence with an expression that made it very clear she had known about this part the entire time and had chosen to say nothing.
"You knew about this," Jordan said.
"I don't have the faintest clue about what you're talkin' about, City." Marie's face was perfectly innocent, and her eyes were anything but.
"You realize I negotiate million-dollar contracts for a living, right? I can tell when I'm being set up."
“Then you’re gonna try?” Marie's grin was nothing short of wicked. "Or unless… the big bad executive is scared of a sweet little goat? I mean, I'd understand, boardrooms are probably much less intimidating than barnyard animals."
Whatever response Jordan had dissipated when they saw the earnest look on Annabeth’s face as she positioned the stool next to Noir, who stood there placidly. "I pinky promise it’s not too hard Jordan! I’ll show you." Annabeth’s small hands worked in a steady rhythm as milk hit the pail in thin streams. She hopped off the stool and gestured for Jordan to take her place.
"Just squeeze and pull down, real smooth. She won't bite." Annabeth said, guiding Jordan's hands.
"She has teeth?"
"She's a goat. 'Course she has teeth," Marie said dryly.
Jordan shot her a look, and she answered with a wink. Taking a deep breath, Jordan squeezed. Nothing. They tried again, adjusting their grip. Then a stream of white hit the pail, and Annabeth cheered loudly enough to startle Noir.
Marie had moved closer at some point, and when Jordan glanced up, they found her watching raptly. Her brown eyes caught Jordan for a second, and they forgot they were sitting on a stool with their hands on a goat named after a superhero.
"OH NO!" Annabeth's voice suddenly pitched up in alarm. "A-TRAIN'S RUNNIN' OFF AGAIN!"
Jordan's head whipped around just in time to see a blur of fur squeeze through a gap in the fence that definitely should have been too small for a goat that size. He ran much faster than Jordan expected a goat could and was absolutely hauling ass toward the tree line.
"Shit- wait shit I meant shoot- nevermind Annabeth pretend you didn’t hear that, I’ll be right back!" Marie pushed off the fence running and her hand moved to her belt. Jordan expected her to grab a lasso or something similar, but instead, she pulled out a knife.
"What are you-? Aren’t you supposed to be using a lasso or something-“
And before Jordan could finish their question, Marie drew it across her palm. Blood welled up from the cut, but it didn't drip out the way blood was supposed to. Instead, it pulled itself out of Marie's palm in a long, slim stream that coiled in the air and lengthened and solidified into something that looked exactly like the rope Jordan had suggested. Marie's eyes locked on the escaping goat, her boots pounding against the grass and the blood-rope whipping out ahead of her in a wide arc.
A-Train had made it maybe fifty feet before the lasso caught him around the middle, cinching tight. He let out an indignant bleat and his legs kept churning for another second before he seemed to realize he wasn't going anywhere.
"YEAH MARIE!" Annabeth was hollering from the fence, pumping both fists in the air. "You got him! Good job! That was so cool, did you see how fast she was, Jordan? She's the best at catchin' him."
Marie was walking back now with A-Train trotting reluctantly beside her, the blood-rope still looped around his middle. She traded A-Train to Annabeth and when she flicked her wrist, the rope dissolved back into liquid. Jordan looked at her hand and the cut had disappeared like it never existed at all.
"Is that," they started, and had to stop and recalibrate because their brain was still catching up. "Is that... normal?"
Annabeth looked at them funny. "We use regular ropes too. But A-Train's real fast so Marie's way works better 'cause she can throw it further. He got out five times last month and Pa was so mad but Marie caught him every time so it was fine."
That wasn't what Jordan had meant. Blood manipulation, Jordan thought, watching Marie secure the fence behind the wayward goat. They were not expecting something so powerful to belong to someone who spent more time with livestock than humans.
Annabeth abruptly started. "Oh no Marie, what time is it? I gotta get ready!" She took off toward the house without waiting for an answer. "Mr. Anderson’s gonna mark me tardy again!"
Marie shook her head, watching her go before turning to Jordan. "That girl, I swear. You better get cleaned up too, goat smell ain't exactly what you'd call pleasant if you're not used to it."
Jordan nodded and followed the path to the house. The shower ran hot, and they had no idea how mud had managed to get into places they hadn’t even known were possible. Jordan grabbed a towel from the rack and wrapped it around themselves, using another to squeeze the water from their hair. Their luggage sat where they’d dropped it yesterday, still mostly packed. Jordan crouched beside the suitcase and rifled through the folded clothes. They pulled out a pair of slacks, then reconsidered and reached for something else when movement outside the window caught their eye.
Marie’s locs were pulled up in a high bun, a few falling loose around her face and leaving her neck and shoulders bare. Marie was hauling split logs from the woodpile with an axe balanced on her shoulder. She set each piece of wood down carefully and placed it at specific points around the main trunk. Marie stepped back to survey her work, the logs formed a perfect circle with her at the center. Sunlight glinted off the sheen of sweat on her skin as she raised the axe, and Jordan's pulse quickened. But she didn’t swing it, instead she drew the blade across her palm just like she had when A-Train ran off. Marie lifted her hand and let the blood gather there, then, with a sharp flick of her wrist she sent the droplets flying toward the first log.
The wood split instantly with a loud crack. A small, satisfied grin formed on Marie's lips. She turned to the next log, her hips shifting with the movement, and Jordan couldn't look away. That grin grew as she moved faster now, spinning through the circle she'd made, sending blood arcing through the air in short bursts. Her top rode up as she stretched to reach the furthest logs, revealing the toned muscles of her stomach.
Jordan pressed closer to the window, towel gripped loosely, completely mesmerized by the scene below.
It would be extremely unethical if they fucked the owner of the Airbnb’s daughter… right?
Jordan took a deep, steadying breath and silently chastised themself for letting the thought form in the first place. When they looked out the window once more, Marie’s muscles flexed as she moved through the last of the logs, and the heat that followed settled in a little deeper.
Oh fuck, they were definitely going to stoop that low.
Jordan was so lost in their thoughts that they failed to notice that Marie had stopped what she was doing and was now staring back at them through the window. Jordan held their gaze through the glass without stepping back or pretending they hadn't been staring for the last several minutes. A realization dawned on them… maybe they should take Cate’s advice afterall and have a little "fun" during their stay.
They turned away from the window, giving the impression of distraction even as they stayed acutely aware of Marie’s attention. The towel hung low on their hips, barely secured, and Jordan took their time with it as they let it slide down inch by inch. The fabric dragged softly over their skin before slipping free and falling to the floor. As the towel pooled at their feet, Jordan glanced over their shoulder, their dark eyes smoldering with a come-hither look.
Marie was red all the way to her ears and rooted completely to the spot, chest still heaving from the exertion of earlier and something possibly different now. She was looking up at the window almost helplessly, and completely enraptured by the sight.
A sudden knock at the door startled them. Quickly securing their towel, Jordan opened it to find Annabeth standing there, a bright smile on her face and thankfully, completely oblivious to what just occurred.
"Heya, Jordan!" the young girl exclaimed. "I just wanted to say goodbye before I headed off to school. Ma made breakfast, so you better come on down!" Leaning in conspiratorially, Annabeth lowered her voice to a whisper. "Say, if Marie tries to show you the horses or how to ride ‘em, you should just tell her no, okay? I called dibs on that!" She giggled.
"Well, I don't think I would enjoy the company of the horses nearly as much without you there, Annabeth," Jordan replied, their tone warm and genuine.It was really hard to not be charmed by Annabeth's infectious zeal.
A voice called out from the distance. "Annabeth! Time to go, honey!"
"Ok-ay, that's Pa!" Annabeth exclaimed. "I'll see you soon, Jordan!" With a friendly wave, the young girl dashed off.
Jordan turned to the luggage and pulled out a crisp white button-down, tailored trousers, and leather loafers that was meant more for pavement than grass. As they descended the stairs, the smell of something warm and buttery drifted up to meet them.
"Why, good mornin', sugar!" Jackie's lilting Southern drawl rang out, accompanied by a warm, welcoming smile. "I prepared some fresh fruit from our garden. Marie told me that you might not be used to our carby breakfast down here yet, but I also got some waffles and fresh cream."
Almost like she was summoned, Marie abruptly strode in, her arms occupied with freshly chopped firewood.
"Marie Moreau!" Jackie chided playfully. "You go take yourself a shower before you try an' hug on me like that.”
Marie merely shrugged with a roguish grin. "Aw, Ma, I'll do it later. I'm starvin’ here." Her gaze flickered towards Jordan, and a faint blush crept onto her cheeks, no doubt a lingering effect from their earlier interaction.
Marie snatched a plate and plopped herself down at the table, purposefully taking the seat next to the prim city dweller. Jordan's nose scrunched involuntarily as she piled her plate high with golden-brown waffles and proceeded to drown it in a flood of maple syrup and whipped cream.
"Must you be so unrestrained in your eating habits?"
"Whatever, City," she said in between bites, syrupy sweetness dripping from her words. "I know how to enjoy food, while you can go ahead and eat your fat-free, gluten-free, sugar-free, happiness-free diet."
"Yes, what a sacrifice I must make to ensure my heart doesn't go into cardiac arrest by the time I'm forty," they parried.
Jackie’s voice rang out from behind the kitchen counter, where she was busying herself with putting away dishes. "So, what do y'all have in store for Jordan today?"
Marie paused, a forkful of syrupy waffles suspended halfway to her mouth as she pondered the question. "Hmm," she contemplated out loud, "I was gonna teach them how to ride, but Annabeth already called dibs on that." She snuck a sideways glance at Jordan. "I guess I could drive them downtown and we can visit some of the shops, get them some proper attire."
Jordan's eyes widened in a mixture of horror and offense, "Excuse me? I don’t remember consenting to being turned into your doppelganger."
Marie gritted her teeth, her temper flaring at Jordan's imperious tone. "Fine then, City," she bit out. "And just how are you going to do the activities planned? 'Cause I can assure you, I ain't lettin' you wear my boots when your fancy shoes break."
"Wasn't planning on asking," they scoffed. "Who knows what I'd catch from them. Do they even have real doctors out here, or is the treatment just whiskey and a prayer?"
Marie rolled her eyes, wholly unfazed by Jordan's snobbish remarks. "God, you're such an asshole."
"And yet I recall someone asking me to stay for a few weeks," Jordan replied coolly.
"Now what do you plan on doin' for the rest of your trip? 'Cause I sure as hell ain't gonna be your personal tour guide if you're gonna be a stuck-up pain in my ass."
Jordan's lips pursed into a thin line, "I've got a backlog of work emails that need answering and a few projects I've been meaning to get ahead on. Plenty to keep me occupied without needing your assistance."
A bark of laughter erupted from Marie's throat "You're joking, right? You came all the way out here just to sit inside and answer emails?"
Jackie interjected from the kitchen, "Now, honey, if you don't mind me askin’ just what is it that you do for a livin'?"
"I'm the Chief Marketing Officer for Li & Co Hospitality," Jordan declared, their crisp enunciation of the title demonstrating their pride. "We own and operate luxury hotels and resorts across the country, and I oversee all branding, marketing campaigns, and guest experience initiatives. I essentially make sure our properties are the first choice for travelers."
"Well, now, ain't that something?" Jackie breathed, her smile stretching from ear to ear. "A young thing like yourself, holdin' such a high-rankin' position. That's mighty impressive if you don't mind me sayin' so."
"Hmph, I didn't take you for a corporate bigwig." Marie remarked.
Jordan's expression soured as Marie's flippant "corporate bigwig" remark hung in the air, their dark eyes narrowing at the statement. "Oh?" they bit back. "And just what did you think I did for a living?"
Marie merely shrugged, seemingly unbothered by Jordan's prickly demeanor as she reached for another succulent strawberry from the table. "Dunno," she drawled, popping the ruby-red fruit into her mouth. "Maybe rolling in Daddy's money and buying twenty-dollar smoothies."
The barb hit its mark, and Jordan's perfectly sculpted features contorted into an expression of outright indignation, "I'll have you know, I am certainly not one of those vapid LA gurus," they snapped.
Marie grinned, unabashed in the face of Jordan's fury as she licked a stray rivulet of strawberry juice from the corner of her mouth. "Oh, my sincerest apologies, I wouldn't dare mistake you for one of them." she countered with a hint of mocking deference.
Jordan's nostrils flared ever so slightly at Marie's brazen lack of decorum. Marie’s lips quirked up in a challenge, her gaze holding Jordan's with an intensity that sent an unexpected thrill down their spine.
Then, with a languid stretch that seemed calculated to provoke, Marie rose from her seat. "Alright," she purred with an indolent smile, "Enjoy your breakfast, Jordan. I'm gonna go grab a shower, and then we can head into town."
Jordan's gaze followed Marie's retreating form, their eyes lingering perhaps a moment too long on the sway of the other woman's hips as she sauntered away.
.°˖⋆ ℧ 𓃗 .°˖⋆𐚁
“Is that hat permanently glued to your head?”
Marie rolled her eyes. "Is being judgmental a permanent state for you?"
Ignoring the jab, Jordan surveyed the historic buildings lining the streets. "I still don't understand why we have to do this. I thought I just had to pretend to enjoy this... place," they said, their gaze sweeping over the quaint storefronts and modest architecture.
"No can do, City," Marie replied, a hint of amusement in her voice. "Those New York clothes are way too hot for this climate and you’re gonna thank me when you’re not overheating in those fancy jackets. Plus, I thought you might appreciate seeing some actual buildings for a change, instead of just farms."
Jordan and Marie pulled up to the boutique, they eyed the eclectic displays of boots through the window with a frown. “There’s no way you’re getting me into one of those," they said disdainfully.
"Come on, Jordan. Emma is my best friend and owns the store, she's real sweet. She can help you find something you can at least wear."
"Why do I find that hard to believe," Jordan mumbled, though they still followed Marie out of the car and into the cozy boutique.
A voice drifted over from behind a rack of sundresses, and a blond woman emerged with a welcoming smile. "Marie Moreau, as I live and breathe! What brings y'all in today?"
"Heya Em, I guess you could say I picked up a stray New Yorker in need of a makeover," She nudged Jordan playfully.
Emma's eyes lit up at the prospect. "Well then, let me show y'all what I got." She beckoned them deeper into the shop, past displays of leather goods and vintage band tees. "Now, Jordan, I'm thinkin' we start with somethin' versatile," Emma said, pulling out a flowing midi skirt with a subtle floral pattern. "This here's real popular with folks who come through from up north-"
Jordan took the skirt, holding it up against themselves with a considering look. "Okay, but this might be a problem," and in the blink of an eye, their features shifted to a sharper jawline and broader shoulders, still holding the delicate fabric.
"Holy shit!" Emma's eyes went wide as saucers, her hand flying to her chest. "How in the hell did your clothes not rip clean in half when you did that? Is that some kinda special fabric or somethin'?"
"Right? I asked them 'bout that very thing just last time, figured you'd be wonderin' the same." Marie said.
Emma turned to Marie, her lips turning into a giant pout. "Aw shucks, babe, you know me too well."
Jordan glanced between them. "I may have had some things tailored. And I don't mind wearing skirts, honestly, but they're just not particularly convenient, you know…?"
"For what Marie got you doing?" Emma's mouth curved. "Yeah, I'd imagine you need a little range of motion." She winked.
Marie stared at the blonde. "What is your problem."
"I'm just saying!"
"Can we please just go find some boots or something?" Marie said, already walking away from both of them, though her cheeks had gone an unmistakable shade of pink that she was doing a very poor job of hiding.
Emma watched her go with a delighted expression before turning back to Jordan, tapping her chin. "Well. This does present quite the fashion conundrum, doesn’t it? But that just means we get to find you pieces that work both ways." She spread her hands out. "Now, before we get too deep into this, let me ask you somethin' important. What kinda budget are we workin' with here? Marie mentioned you’re hailing from the Big Apple, so I'm guessin' you ain't exactly pinchin' pennies."
“I could buy out this entire shop twice over and still have enough left for dinner somewhere that doesn't serve sweet tea." Jordan's lips were just shy of a smirk. “I don’t think money will be a concern here.”
"Ooh, listen to Mx. Big Spender over here," Emma teased, fanning herself dramatically. "Marie, where'd you find this one? And more importantly, are there others? Because if there's a whole set of rich New Yorkers wanderin' around lost, I call dibs on the next one."
Jordan gave a tight smile. "I appreciate the enthusiasm, but I'm not entirely convinced flannel and fringe are going to work for me."
"Famous last words, sugar," Emma sing-songed, already snatching hangers off the racks. Jordan didn’t get a chance to argue before they were ushered deeper into the boutique. The shop speakers crackled and what came pouring out was the most ridiculous country song Jordan had ever heard. Something about trucks and dogs and beer and heartbreak, all set to a beat that made Marie's face light up with genuine joy.
Marie started swaying to the music as she pulled shirts off the shelf, and Emma joined in, the two of them moving through the store and holding up items for each other's approval before adding them to the growing pile in Jordan's arms.
"This is ridiculous," Jordan muttered, but they were watching the way Marie moved and humming along to the terrible lyrics, and their expression softened just slightly. Just enough that when Emma brandished a heinous pair of chaps, Jordan's eye roll came with something close to a smile. They caught sight of a dark brown suede jacket with sweeping fringe and braided shoulders; they hesitated for a moment before adding it to the batch.
What followed was twenty minutes of Jordan shooting down everything without a second thought: a flannel ("I'm not a lumberjack"), boots with spurs ("I’m not redneck James Bond"), a leather vest with floor-length fringe ("I'm not dressing up as a carwash"). Marie was having entirely too much fun watching Jordan's expression cycle through different shades of disbelief while Emma had to lean against a rack to keep from falling over with laughter. Jordan disappeared into the fitting room one last time, presumably to escape, and Marie assumed they were in there checking emails or quietly plotting their exit strategy.
Then the door opened. The music was still playing and Emma was still sorting through a rack of boots, but suddenly Marie couldn't hear any of it.
Jordan stood there in the first outfit Marie had chosen for them. A wide-brimmed black hat was pulled low enough to cast a shadow over their face. They wore a crisp black shirt adorned with delicate embroidery across the shoulders and down the sleeves with blue jeans that fit perfectly, complemented by a belt with an engraved silver buckle and dark boots that looked just as natural as their usual dress shoes.
Jordan's hands were in their pockets, not quite meeting Marie's eyes. "The shirt's not terrible," they said quietly.
Marie was still staring. Her mouth opened, closed, opened again and nothing came out.
"That bad?" Jordan asked, and there was some vulnerability there, barely hidden under the attempt at sarcasm.
"No," Marie managed, her voice coming out rougher than she intended. "Not bad at all."
Emma looked between them and cleared her throat loudly. "Oh, is that a customer over there needin' help? In the very back way way over there.. I should go... check on that. Right now. Immediately, bye." She practically sprinted toward the back room, leaving them alone.
Jordan adjusted the hat, the gesture somehow both self-conscious and natural. "So what, do I fit in now? Can I walk down the street without everyone immediately knowing I'm just some annoying socialite?" The sarcasm was there, but it lacked its usual edge.
Marie found herself stepping closer without meaning to. "You look..." She paused, taking in the whole picture Jordan Li, Chief of whatever fancy hotel thing they did, standing in a small Tennessee boutique wearing boots and denim. "You look like you belong here."
Jordan opened their mouth to respond, but was cut off by the chirping of Marie's phone, which they were almost glad for, because they had no idea when the mood had shifted so much. Marie fumbled for it, squinting at the caller ID before laughing lightly. "It's Annabeth, she probably thinks we got mauled by bears or something. We better wrap this up."
As they exited the boutique, Jordan cradled the bags of clothes with trepidation after using their American Express card on what they considered might be the most unfortunate purchase of their life. "I cannot believe I agreed to this."
Marie tossed them an amused look as they headed for the truck, "Well, Annabeth's gonna lose her mind when she sees you all decked out."
Jordan and Marie's truck pulled into the small school's parking lot and Jordan took in the scene of the children, many of whom sported the same countryesque outfits as Marie.
"Looks like a whole gaggle of mini-Maries running around," Jordan commented dryly.
Marie chuckled, shaking her head. "Yeah, well, this is our neck of the woods. You're in our territory now, City."
When they approached the main entrance, Annabeth came bounding over, her eyes widening when she spotted Jordan. "Jordan! You look just like a local!" she exclaimed, taking in the updated ensemble with delight.
Marie burst out laughing at the compliment, knowing full well that Jordan would have preferred to die rather than look the part. But to her surprise, Jordan simply threw Annabeth a conspiratorial wink. "Of course I'm undercover after all.”
"Well, look at that. I'd say soon you might even start to like it here," Marie jested.
Jordan rolled their eyes, but a small smile formed as they watched Annabeth enthusiastically wave goodbye to her friend before joining them. The trio headed back to the truck together, and Jordan’s mind was reeling from the shock of how weirdly domestic this all felt. But they chalked it up to the fact that they never had their parents picking them up from school. For them, it was the backseat of their detached chauffeur-driven car on the way home from their private school that they were all too accustomed to.
The drive back was filled with Annabeth rattling off about her day at school and summer plans. Marie caught Jordan's eye in the rearview mirror when Annabeth took a breath between stories, and the look they shared was too long for it to be just about Annabeth.
When the trio climbed out of the truck and started toward the farmhouse, they noticed an unusual commotion coming from the backyard. The trio exchanged puzzled glances before making their way around the side of the house.
The scene that unfolded before them was unlike anything Jordan had ever experienced. Tables were set up in a rustic, barn-style arrangement, complete with checkered tablecloths and mason jar centerpieces. Strings of twinkling lights were being hung overhead, casting a warm, inviting glow over the gathering.
"Ma, you didn't tell me we were having a party," Marie said, her eyebrows raised in surprise.
Jackie emerged from the bustling activity with a warm smile on her face. "We wanted to surprise you guys! This is just a small get-together to celebrate Jordan's first day here and Annabeth's summer break."
Marie snorted. "A 'small get-together' is enough to fill a barn, apparently," she muttered under her breath, earning a wide-eyed look from Jordan.
A man wearing dark jeans and a fitted black henley pushed up to his forearms bounded over and threw an arm around Marie's shoulders. "Marie, you dawg!" he exclaimed. "I can’t believe you were gonna keep hidin' this gorgeous stranger all to yourself-"
Marie immediately shrugged him off, shooting him a warning glare. "Andre, what the hell-"
But before Marie could finish, Andre turned to face Jordan, his eyes glimmering mischievously. "I'm so sorry, I'm being rude. I'm Andre Anderson, I teach over at Godolkin Elementary. And you must be..." He paused, quirking a brow at Jordan.
"Jordan," They replied, their tone clipped. "I'm the Moreau’s Airbnb guest."
"The Airbnb guest." Andre's eyebrows lifted, and he gave Marie a look that said he wasn't buying that for a second. "Right. So, Jordan, important question - you leavin' anyone heartbroken back in New York while you're down here with us?"
Jordan bristled slightly but kept their composure. "No, I don't have anyone."
Marie caught the flicker of discomfort that passed through their expression. She stared at Jordan curiously, her mind wandering into speculation. Was the absence of a partner because Jordan genuinely didn't have one, or perhaps there was more to it? Could it be that Jordan was simply uninterested in relationships altogether? Marie quickly scolded herself for entertaining such thoughts. It wasn't her place to pry into Jordan's personal life, and why would it matter anyway?
Andre’s face lit up with a grin. "Well, in that case, if you need someone to show you the actual fun parts of town - not just wherever Marie's been draggin' you - I'm available. I know a great bar that does karaoke on Thursdays."
Marie swatted at Andre’s arm, earning an exaggerated eye roll from him."What? I'm bein' neighborly!" He held up his hands in mock innocence, but whatever Marie was about to say back got lost in a sudden eruption of hooting and hollering.
They all turned toward the noise, and Marie's eyes went wide. "Holy shit. Ma went all out, she got a bull."
There in the middle of the backyard, surrounded by what looked like half the neighborhood, was a mechanical bull. And currently clinging to it for dear life, laughing so hard she could barely hold on, was Annabeth.
Without thinking, Marie grabbed Jordan's hand and pulled them through the crowd, her fingers warm and a little rough from outdoor work. Jordan barely had time to register the contact before they were at the front, Andre jogging behind them just as Annabeth's grip finally gave out. She tumbled onto the thick padding with a bounce, and the crowd let out a collective "Awwww!"
Marie was already helping her sister up, checking her over. "Emma, you didn't go too rough on our Beth now, did you?"
Emma grinned from behind the controls, not looking sorry at all. "Hey, that's the older sister's job, not mine. I'm the fun friend, remember?"
Annabeth was all smiley, grass in her hair and dirt on her clothes. "Did you see how long I lasted? Did you see?"
"We saw, kiddo. You did great." Marie ruffled her hair, then looked up as Emma's grin turned calculating.
"Speaking of which," Emma said, loud enough for the whole crowd to hear, "why don't you hop on next, Marie? Show everyone how it's really done."
"Ain’t there a line or somethin'-?" Marie started, but the crowd was already parting, people calling out her name, clapping and whistling.
"Marie hasn't been beaten in years," Emma explained to Jordan, leaning over the control panel with pride. "Two minutes and forty-seven seconds. She set the record for the county, hell, maybe even the state."
Andre gave Marie a little push forward. "You can’t disappoint your fans."
"Well, golly," Marie said as she looked around at all the expectant faces. "Guess I got no choice now, do I?"
She hopped the barrier like it was nothing in one smooth movement that had her on the mat and then swinging up on top the bull. Marie settled into the saddle with her thighs gripping tight, one hand wrapping around the cantle while the other went to her hat, pressing it down firmly.
"You know you're my best friend," Emma called out, "but I ain't goin' easy on ya."
"Emma, if you went easy on me, I'd never forgive you."
The bull lurched to life, and the crowd roared. It started slow and testing, but Marie moved with the motion smoothly. When it bucked forward, she leaned back just enough to counter the momentum, her free hand never wavering from her hat. When it spun, she shifted her weight into the turn, making it look like she was the one directing the dance instead of the other way around. Her thighs gripped tight when the bull tried to throw her sideways, and she laughed when Emma cranked up the speed and sent the thing into a series of sharp, jarring twists that would've sent anyone else flying.
Jordan couldn't look away. The sunset painted everything orange and pink, catching on Marie's skin where she'd pushed up her sleeves and highlighting the determined set of her jaw. She looked completely, utterly in her element, and Jordan felt their mouth go dry.
It was at two minutes and twenty seconds that Jordan saw it; the slight tremor in Marie's grip and her shoulders starting to bunch with exhaustion. Emma must have seen it too because she sent the bull into one final, vicious spiral, and Marie's hand finally slipped. She went flying, landed on the padding with a bounce, and immediately threw both arms up in victory while the crowd erupted.
"Two twenty-seven!" Emma shouted over the noise. "Not your best, but still undefeated!"
Marie was breathing hard as she climbed to her feet, her face flushed and her hat askew, but she was grinning as she made her way over to where Jordan stood frozen by the barrier. "Your turn."
Jordan blinked. "Huh?"
"You're up next." Marie was already gesturing them forward, and the crowd was picking up the chant, which was frankly unfair.
"I've never- I don't know how to ride a mechanical bull, Marie. I've never even been on a regular bull."
"Everyone's gotta have their first time sometime," Marie said, and her eyes were dancing with a spark that made Jordan's stomach flip in a way that had nothing to do with the prospect of public humiliation. "I'll tell Emma to go easy on you. Scout’s honor."
Jordan looked at the bull, then at Marie's expectant face, then at the crowd of strangers all watching them with anticipation, and thought about every single life choice that had led them to this moment. Then, because apparently they'd lost all sense of self-preservation somewhere, they climbed over the barrier.
The bull felt enormous up close, and Jordan's attempt to mount it was significantly less graceful than Marie's had been. It was more of a scramble that involved a lot of ungainly pulling and at least one knee in the wrong place. When they finally got situated and found their grip on the saddle, Emma suddenly called out from the controls.
"Wait! Marie, get on with them. I just want to get a photo real quick." Emma was already pulling out her phone, looking way too innocent for this to be just about a photo.
Marie narrowed her eyes. "Emma, what are you-"
"Just get on," Jordan said, surprising themselves.
Marie looked at them for a long moment, then sighed and hopped back over the barrier. She swung up behind Jordan and settled in close enough that Jordan could feel the warmth of her against their back. Marie's arms came around them to grip the saddle, and Jordan tried very hard not to think too much about the proximity.
"This is a terrible idea," Marie muttered, her breath warm against Jordan's ear.
"Smile!" Emma called, holding up her phone.
Marie and Jordan shot each other a look at the command, both of them trying and failing to hide their laughter, before turning toward the camera with forced grins. That was when Andre slipped in behind the control panel.
The bull staggeredinto motion, not like the gentle start Emma would have given them, but an immediate spin that had both of them scrambling for balance. Marie's arms tightened around Jordan instinctively, pulling them back against her as the bull bucked.
"ANDRE!" Marie yelled, but he was already laughing, cranking up the speed while the crowd roared with joy. "I'm gonna kill you!"
"Y’all gotta hold on tighter than that!" Andre called back, sending the bull into another sharp twist that nearly sent them both sideways.
Jordan grabbed Marie's arms where they wrapped around them, and Marie pressed closer, her thighs bracketing Jordan's as they both tried to move with the bull instead of against it. For a few seconds they actually found a rhythm, Marie knowing when to lean and Jordan following her lead, their bodies moving together in something that almost worked.
"Left!" Marie shouted, and Jordan leaned with her, barely avoiding a buck that would have sent them tumbling down. Her laugh was right in Jordan's ear, breathless and exhilarated, and Jordan found themselves laughing too, even as their hands went numb from holding on so tight.
Andre, because he had no mercy whatsoever, sent the bull into a series of quick vertical bucks. Marie tried to counter it and keep them both centered, but physics had other ideas. Jordan felt Marie's grip slip first, heard her creative cursing, and then they were both airborne. They hit the padding in a tangle of limbs, Marie somehow managing to twist so she took most of the impact, Jordan landing half on top of her before rolling off onto their back. They were both breathing hard, and someone in the crowd was whistling, and Emma was definitely still taking pictures.
Jordan laid there for a moment, flat on their back with their arms spread wide, staring up at the sky and trying to process what had just happened. The stars were out already, scattered across the darkening sky like someone had thrown diamonds on velvet, clearer than Jordan had ever seen them in New York.
Marie pushed herself up and leaned over to check on them, her hair falling around her face like a curtain. She was still catching her breath, her face flushed from laughter and exertion, and Jordan thought hazily that this view was just as good as the stars, maybe better.
"You okay?" Marie asked and she was smiling, extending a hand down to them.
"I think so," Jordan managed, taking her hand and letting her pull them up. "Remind me to never trust Andre or Emma again."
Marie's fingers lingered for just a second before letting go. "Oh, absolutely. Soon as I can feel my legs again, he's a dead man."
"Worth it though!" Andre called from somewhere in the crowd, and Marie flipped him off without looking, which just made everyone laugh harder.
As Jordan climbed out of the padding area, still trying to catch their breath, Marie grabbed two beers from a nearby cooler and pressed one into their hand.
"You know how to drink this, right?" she asked. "Or do you need me to find you a champagne flute?"
Jordan raised an eyebrow. "You are aware that I went to college, right? An actual school with frat parties?"
"I don't know, I figured you were one of those people who drank champagne out of ice sculptures at charity galas. Maybe did a little networking over brandy in the library.
"The library was for sleeping off hangovers between classes, actually."
"Now that sounds more believable." Marie grinned. "Let me introduce you to people before more start making up their own stories about who you are.
The next hour was a blur of faces and names Jordan would never remember. But what they would remember would be the view of the bonfire and string lights criss-crossed overhead between the trees, not in any particular pattern but scattered like someone had thrown stars and caught them on branches. Some of the bulbs were different sizes, the Adirondack chairs were mismatched colors that had been painted and repainted over the years, and someone had definitely duct-taped one of the picnic table legs. But there was just something special about how the firelight caught on people's faces and laughter carried across the yard mixing with the music from someone's speaker, how easy and unburdened it all felt.
In New York, Jordan's world was all clean lines and careful distances, everyone moving through the same spaces without really seeing each other. Here, they'd had their hand shaken by at least thirty people, been hugged by a multitude of people not even related to the Moreau’s, and listened to a detailed story about someone's prize-winning tomatoes.
"You gonna stand there all night or you want some food?" Marie appeared at their elbow, already steering them toward the tables laden with food.
"I can make my own plate," Jordan protested, but Marie was already loading one up with pulled pork, coleslaw, corn on the cob that still had the husks charred on the edges.
"You don't know whose potato salad to avoid yet," Marie said, adding a healthy scoop of something else to the plate. "Trust me, you want Mrs. Shetty's cornbread but you definitely don't want Mr. McCurdy’s 'special recipe' anything. Man puts raisins in everything, even the barbecue sauce once."
"That's criminal."
"That's what we all said, but he keeps bringing it." Marie handed them the plate, then made her own. "Come on, I saved us seats before they all got taken."
She led them to two chairs that were slightly separated from the main cluster around the fire, positioned where they could see everyone but have their own conversation.
"So," Marie said, taking a swig from her beer, "what do you think? Is this going to be one of the best bites of your life?"
“Well let me give it a taste," Jordan tried the pulled pork and immediately reconsidered every barbecue place they'd ever been to in New York. "Jesus, who made this?"
"My aunt Pam, she’s been smoking meat longer than either of us has been alive. It’s a secret family recipe, and she'll probably take it straight to her grave." Marie was watching them with an expression Jordan couldn't quite read in the firelight. "You're doing better than I expected, by the way. Figured you'd have run screaming back to the Airbnb by now."
"The night's still young."
Marie smiled, settling back in her chair. "Speaking of which," Marie resumed, swirling the beer in her bottle, "how does someone who works for one of the biggest hospitality companies in the country never actually take a vacation? Isn't that like being a chef who only eats takeout?"
Jordan huffed out a laugh. "It's not that I never take vacations, I just bring my laptop and call them working retreats. Different scenery, same spreadsheets."
"That might be the saddest thing I've ever heard, and I once watched Andre cry actual tears over fantasy football."
Jordan shrugged, unbothered by their situation. "Annabeth called dibs on teaching me to ride," Jordan said, shifting the conversation to a different topic.
Marie's smile went soft, almost wistful. "Hey fair warning, she's not really gonna teach you anything so much as show off and try to get you to race her. Kid's got real talent and she knows it, just wants someone new to leave in the dust."
There was pride in Marie's voice but there was also that same melancholy that reminded Jordan of when they pointed out the photographs they'd seen in the house with younger Marie on horseback and holding trophies.
"I was supposed to be a ballerina," Jordan said suddenly, the words tumbling out before they could second-guess them. There was something about the firelight, the beer, and Marie's gaze that made honesty feel less dangerous than usual.
Marie's head turned so fast Jordan was worried she might have pulled something. "You're messing with me."
"Oh come on, what, I can't be graceful?" Jordan teased.
Marie shook her head, laughing but not unkindly. "No, no, I just... I'm trying to picture you in a tutu and my brain's short-circuiting a little. What changed?"
Jordan stared at the fire for a long moment, weighing how much truth to offer up, how vulnerable they wanted to be with this woman they'd known for all of two days. "Well, turns out that a little girl who suddenly realized she could also be a little boy kind of complicated the whole prima ballerina track. My mom was a dancer. She had my entire life, career, diet, everything I was supposed to be and do mapped out. And my dad was so proud that his little girl was going to follow in those footsteps." They paused, taking a drink to buy themselves a moment. "Then I started change and understanding what I was, and suddenly I wasn't just his little girl anymore. The ballet world wasn't exactly ready for someone who couldn't fit into a single neat category, and my parents weren't ready for a kid who refused to try."
"Jordan..." Marie's voice had gone soft.
"It's fine, really. I'm too old to be mourning childhood dreams anyway, and I'm good at what I do now, even if it means my idea of relaxation is color-coding my schedule."
Marie was quiet for a moment, and Jordan could feel her watching them. "That's bullshit, you know. The being too old part."
"Yeah, well, that's a nice thought, but..." Jordan turned to look at her, needing to shift the focus before they said something even more revealing. "Your turn.”
“My turn?” Marie quirked a skeptic brow.
“That's how conversations work- I bare my soul, you bare yours." Jordan returned.
"Is this how you negotiate all those big acquisitions?"
"Are you always going to deflect when things get personal, or is that just special for me?"
Marie sighed, flipping her hair back. “You really want to know why I looked like someone kicked my dog when we were talking about Annabeth and horses? Because apparently having powers is the universe's way of saying, 'Hey, remember that thing you loved most in the world? Yeah, you can't have that anymore.'" She laughed, but it was sharp around the edges. "I was going to be a jockey. I practically started riding when I popped out of the womb, competing by the time I was Annabeth's age, and I was good- like really good. Jordan, I had trainers driving down from Louisville just to watch me ride. And that was the plan; work my way up through the circuits, maybe make it to Churchill Downs one day."
Jordan stayed silent, sensing that this story didn't get told often, or maybe hadn't been told at all in a long time.
"The worst part is how normal the day was," Marie continued, her voice becoming terser with each word."It was just another local race I’d run a dozen times before. I came around the third turn, and to this day I still don’t know what, but something spooked her. We went down hard and there was blood from my injury and I didn't know about my powers yet; I didn't know what I was capable of."
She paused, took a drink, and Jordan could see her hands were shaking just slightly. "The blood just shot out without me even understanding what was happening. Nearly killed my own horse. This beautiful animal that trusted me, and I almost..." She trailed off, swallowing hard. "The medics got there in time and saved her, but even after I learned to control it, I couldn’t go back. Just like that, whole chapter of my life was done."
They sat in silence for a moment, the fire crackling between them, and Jordan tried to think of something to say that wasn't hollow platitudes or empty comfort.
"Correct me if I'm wrong," Jordan said eventually, still watching the fire, "but what you're describing is essentially two people who had their entire lives derailed by powers neither of them asked for, sitting at a bonfire in middle-of-nowhere-Godolkin, Tennessee drinking something that I genuinely cannot identify by taste alone." They glanced over at Marie. "Sounds like the worst superhero origin story ever written."
Marie snorted, then actually laughed. "The worst. We'd be terrible superheroes.”
They were both laughing now, and sitting closer than they’d been a moment ago without either of them quite remembering when that had happened. The weight of everything they had admitted still there, but no longer sitting quite as heavy.
"For what it's worth," Jordan said quietly, "I think you would have been incredible at Churchill Downs. Would have bet everything on you."
Marie looked at them then, firelight catching the unshed tears in her eyes that she was trying so hard to hide. "And you would have been an amazing ballerina. Or dancer. Or whatever you wanted to be that day.
It would have been easy to leave it there, to let the conversation slide into something lighter and safer, but neither of them did. Marie felt the pull toward it anyway and ignored it, even though getting this close to someone who was already halfway out the door felt like trouble she could see coming for herself. Jordan, for their part, seemed to recognize the same edge in it, the awareness settling in behind their expression as they looked back toward the fire like they could reset the moment by not naming it.
It was a dangerous thing to want when they would be leaving in a few days, dangerous to feel this connected to someone they barely knew, and neither of them needed to say it out loud for it to sit between them anyway.