Page 27 of Limbo

“Do you think they can hear us in their current state?” the friend asks me.

Average Joe elbows him. “Shut up, Benson.”

He uses the nudge as an opportunity to sidestep toward me, his arm brushing mine. “Now that the mystery’s been ruined, I’m Benson.”

“Were we going for mysterious?” I ask.

He shrugs, a grin spreading. “Thought it might be fun. But Joe screwed it up.”

I laugh at Average Joe’s name really being Joe. Benson, of course, thinks my amusement relates to him and inches closer.So the wrong tree, buddy.

A group of girls hurry out of the bathroom. Before he speaks again, I throw my weight at Felicia and force her through the door, pulling it shut behind me.

“Hey,” she says, sounding put out. “I was getting somewhere with him.”

“I know, but the friend thought he was getting somewhere with me.”

“If you truly have no interest in Jordan, then what does it matter?”

“Not happening.” The thought of hooking up with some random guy while Jordan hangs around bothers me. Not to mention, the minimal attraction to said random guy.

She smirks. “You want Jordan. Just admit it.”

Maybe the lack of sleep catches up with me or the stress of Lauren still lingers or Felicia’s more accurate than I want to acknowledge. Hell, it might be something else. I can’t pinpoint the why, but my tolerance for her pushing him on me drops to fucking zero, fast and without warning.

“Why, Gibson? Why is this so important to you? Do you want me to admit, if he weren’t only trying to fuck me to prove he could, I’d screw him? Fine. I would. Are you happy? Can you drop it?”

Her expression falls. “Callie, I was just kidding.”

Still not entirely sure what the hell is wrong with me, I shake my head. “If you want a wingwoman for Average Joe, find Becca.” I jerk the bathroom door open and shoulder my way past Benson, not for a second giving him the wrong idea about how little I want to interact with him. The last thing I need is another guy chasing me out of a party.

“Henders?” Becca grips my shoulders, bringing me to a stop in the living room. “What’s wrong?”

“Please don’t let Felicia follow me.”

She nods and moves out of my way without another word.

A few steps out the door, the cold air rushes into my lungs, but my thoughts, emotions, actions all remain muddled. Everything slowly closes in around me. I drag my hands down my face and force myself to pull it together. Of all the potential places to crash and burn, the sidewalk in front of a party house is not an option. The access to alcohol and poor life choices is too easy.

I pull my phone from my back pocket when I get a text.

Jordan:Band practice starting soon. Need anything?

The timing is either excellent or terrible. I laugh without humor and tap out a message, asking him for a ride.

Then I delete it and reply,No, thank you.

You sure?

Not about anything at the moment.

Yes.

He sends,Last chance!

Goodnight, Jordan.

All right, beautiful. I’ll see you tomorrow.

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