Page 41 of Elusion

Felicia’s apologetic shrug further confirms. Before I can even think, someone throws my coat at me. I push my way through the crowd toward the door. I need to find her and fix this.

Again.

Searching around the front of the building, I call Callie. It goes straight to voicemail.Shit. Shit. Shit.I pull on my coat on my way through the parking lot. Déjà vu hits as I look up and down the street. No sign of her anywhere. The campus is three miles away. She wouldn’t walk that far on a Friday night. She probably found a ride or had brought her car. The chances of her letting me in the suite are near nil, which means I need to beg for Felicia’s help once more.

On my way back toward the bar, the wind lashes at the side of my face, the wind chill near freezing. Always a cold punishment I suffer when I upset her. Before I go inside, I give myself a minute to come up with a plan. A grand romantic gesture sounds way too cheesy, considering it is Valentine’s Day, but I need to show Callie she wasn’t wasting her time on me. I fish out my phone and look up the number for anywhere open that sells flowers. I call the closest one.

The wind crackles in the speaker when someone answers.

“Hold on,” I say, seeking refuge on the side of the building. “I can’t hear you with the—oh shit.” Around the corner, I freeze with Callie right in front of me. I shove my phone in my pocket. “I’ve been looking for you.”

“I don’t care.” She pushes past me to the front of the building.

I chase after her because, well, I’m really fucking experienced with it. “Callie, ask me the question again.”

“No, Jordan. I’m done playing this game with you. At this point, I’ll sleep with you just to make you go away.”

She has no choice but to stop when I plant myself in front of her. “Ask me.”

She crosses her arms and unleashes one hell of a glare.

“Damn it, you stubborn-ass woman.”

Her constant need to challenge me frustrates me to no end, but I can’t imagine it any other way. I step toward her, willing to bend since she refuses.

“The answer is no. This isn’t about having sex with you. On some level, it’s always been about more. I have wanted to be with you in some way, shape, or form ever since I hit the damn turn signal to go to the coffee shop.”

Once the words leave my mouth, any doubt about them being sincere vanishes. Each time I questioned what the hell I was doing, I decided to be with her. All the time I focused on winning her over made me miss how she was affecting me. For her, I want to show up, to always kiss her forehead before leaving, to call her beautiful every day, for her to trust me, rely on me. With her, responsibility and commitment are worth the effort.

We were never in an alternate world. She just changed mine as she went from intriguing to necessary. None of the rest of the bullshit matters anymore. Unless maybe it does because her face remains unswayed.

Then, after the longest pause imaginable, she shrugs. “Okay.”

Sweet Jesus.

“Okay?” I ask. “After all that, the only thing you have isokay?”

“Okay,” she says again. “Now, was that so hard to admit?”

Fuck, this girl is going to kill me.

“You have no idea.”

She smiles, and I tug her toward me. I can’t get my mouth on hers fast enough. Her lips part, and I slip my tongue between them, groaning when I taste her. She glides her hands up the back of my neck and into my hair. Mine aren’t sure where they want to be—her face, her back, her ass. I just know I need more of her. I guide her to the wall and press my body against hers. My head dips down to her neck, and I kiss my way back to her mouth while unbuttoning the red coat that started all this. She tugs at my bottom lip with her teeth, and another groan slips out. My hand skims over the warm skin under her shirt.

“Wooo! Get it, Waters,” shouts a dead man.

I growl, my mouth still firmly on hers. My friends are as obnoxious as ever. Callie turns her head to identify our interrupters, taking her lips with her. With a heavy sigh, I push off the wall behind her. I lead her down the sidewalk toward Johnny and Gavin. Their cigarette habit has officially ruined our moment. Now we’re expected to go inside to a bar full of people, destined to spend the rest of the night—

Nah, screw ’em.

“Say, ‘Goodbye Callie,’” I tell them.

“Goodbye, Callie,” they say.

She lets out a surprised yelp as I throw her over my shoulder. I’ll spend my birthday how I want, and I want to spend it alone with her. I dart between parked cars and set her down by the passenger door of the Jeep. “Priorities, Callie.”

She laughs and climbs in. As I pull out of the parking lot, I reach for her hand, needing to touch her. Now that I can, I never want to stop. I bring it to my lips, kissing her fingers and knuckles and inner wrist.

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