Page 5 of Elusion

No idea how I’m going to get her out of my head.

What type of person has no social media presence? Serial killers? Cult leaders? Beautiful girls who want nothing to do with me? Despite an extensive search last night, I search her name again.

Nothing.

Again.

I flop back on my bed and stare at the ceiling, thinking about her. This adds to the two days’ worth of classes and most of the night I’ve already spent wondering why she would kiss me and then not want to talk to me. If I made an asshole comment or maybe, off the top of my head, checked out another girl in front of her, I would understand.

The door opens without a knock, and Benji waltzes in. He goes straight to my dresser, checks his blond bun in the mirror, and nods at me on his way out.

What the hell?

I attribute his strange behavior to him being Benji. He’s a fantastic front man and singer but a peculiar guy nonetheless. Also, the best friend a person can find.

My thoughts drift to later and the frat party we’re scheduled to play. With Gavin a member at one of the houses, we receive plenty of invites to parties, along with opportunities to play shows. A gig’s a gig, but I wish we’d quit playing college keggers. We should perform at more clubs and bars. Several feature live music on the weekends, one of which I want to check out when we go out for my twenty-first birthday.

The door opens without a knock, and Benji waltzes in—wait, this seems familiar. This time, he plops down on the bed, leans back against the headboard, crosses his ankles, and rests his hands behind his head. “You’re welcome.”

This guy.

I sit up on the edge of the bed and turn toward him. “What did you do for me?”

“Vanessa was downstairs, looking for you, so I checked your room to see if you were here. You weren’t.”

“Thank you,” I say, and I mean it.

Vanessa plays a role polar opposite to the one of Callie Henders. She won’t stop talking to me after our hook-up over winter break. It’s been over a week since she asked me to call her. It’s also been over two weeks since I deleted her number.

In comes Johnny, and without hesitation, he stretches out on the bed between Benji and me. Fresh out of the shower, he’s ready for the night with his black hair spiked down the middle, holes in his jeans, and a white button-down he’ll only keep on through our first song.

I’m struggling to remember when exactly I enacted an open-door policy to my room. “Can I help you?”

“Was Vanessa here?”

“Apparently.” I scoot further down my suddenly crowded mattress.

Benji tugs on his lip piercings. “She’s shown up twice now. Jordan needs to find a better way of getting his point across.”

“Or get his point across her sweet ass one more time,” Johnny says. “Unless you’re still in a mood.”

“It’s not a mood,” I snap, doing nothing to help prove my point.

“What’s not a mood?” Gavin asks on his way in.

“We’re talking about Jordan’s mood the last two days.” Johnny shifts closer to Benji to make space for him.

“Oh, yeah. What’s up with that?” Gavin sits down and reclines into a similar position to Benji’s.

He rubs a hand over his buzzed hair. We’re still adjusting to the new look, and Johnny reaches over to touch his head, too.

So weird. It feels like I’m hosting a damn sleepover for a bunch of preteen girls.

“It’s not a mood,” I repeat.

“I think he’s bored,” Gavin says.

“Why would he be bored?” Johnny asks. “The kid does whatever the hell he wants.”

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