Page 35 of Limbo

“Both,” I tell him. “Smooth answer first.”

“Very well.” He pauses before saying, “You are the most beautiful creature in existence.”

My eyes start to roll but stop. I opened myself up for a cheesy pick-up line and need to deal with the consequences. “What’s the real one?”

His grin appears. “You are the most beautiful creature in existence.”

I laugh, and he smiles his damn smile. Nothing about this seems complicated. I see exactly how he would fit in my life.

“Come out with us Friday night.” He sweeps his knuckles over my cheek, his intense gaze on mine. “It’s my birthday, and the guys are taking me somewhere.”

The calm he provides fucking disintegrates. “Your birthday is on Valentine’s Day?”

“Does that make asking you weird?”

Yes. No. I don’t know. Valentine’s Day, his birthday, and the deadline for him telling me he has feelings for me? A lot of conflicting activities for one day. Well, one half-day, considering I need to leave no later than three o’clock.

“I leave after my last class to go home. Otherwise, I would. I’m sorry.”

“Wait, you’re leaving Friday afternoon?”

I nod, which evidently triggers a countdown to the end of the world. Panic hits his eyes before his head drops forward, and he presses his palms to his forehead, muttering something inaudible. The dramatic reaction confuses me and sort of entertains me. So a standard response to him.

The alarm on his phone goes off, and he pushes off the floor, shaking his head. “What are you doing to me, beautiful?”

I wonder the same thing about him.

He leans down and kisses me on the forehead. “I’ll see you later.”

Still not sure why he freaked out, I watch him walk out. The second he leaves, I grab my phone before I give myself time to overthink. For the first time in a long time, I text Graham without him sending me one first.

Something came up. Be there Saturday morning.

I start tapping my foot as soon as I hit send, already worried about how he might respond.

Jordan wants to drive me to my study group, but I convince him to go to his band’s practice. He promises to be at the dorms when I’m finished, and sure enough, his Jeep is sitting in the parking lot. When I walk in, he and Felicia are on the couch. She’s bawling as his face warps in disgust at the TV. He wraps his arms around her and holds her against his chest.

Before I can ask what the hell is going on, Jordan says, “Documentary about chicken farms. Worst. Thing. Ever.” His eyes stay glued to the screen until he winces, and he looks up at me. “Do you know how they make chicken nuggets?”

Felicia wails out a sob.

Oh good Lord, not another one. She won’t sleep for a week.

I race over and push the off button to end their self-inflicted torture. “Why would you keep watching it?”

“Uh,” he says, “to learn how the world works, Callie. Duh.”

My eyes roll, and his attention diverts to Felicia, pulling away from him. He hands her another tissue, and I shake my head, leaving the pair on the couch to comfort one another.

I climb on the bed and lean back against the wall, rechecking my phone. Still nothing from Graham. The rare times I’ve texted him, he’s always answered right away. My chest tightens, and I start to regret ever sending the message. Silence from him never leads to anything remotely good.

Jordan knocks on his way in, at home a mere twenty-four hours after I’ve stopped resisting him. “I sent the mess to bed. She cannot handle the harsh realities of our world.” He spreads out on the bed, his head in my lap. “Do you want me to describe the particulars? The images are burned into my mind for eternity.”

“No, I’m good, thanks,” I say, distracted while I answer a text from Connor.

“Thank God. Now, calm me down. I’m very upset.” He drags my hand from my side to his head.

I run my fingers through his hair, and when I glance down, his eyes are closed. It’s another one of those moments where I almost forget the reason he’s here. Except the almost is closing in on entirely.

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