Page 39 of Limbo

The blankets muffle a knock on my bedroom door, and a large area of light travels across the fabric. It grows more localized as someone approaches. Someone almost always being Jordan.

After hitting pause, I crawl to the opening and stick my head out. “Shoes off.”

Rule two of being under the blankets.

I return to my spot and lean against the bed. Jordan’s head pops through, and he admires my work on his way in. Seeing my highly honed skills in architecture, he can’t possibly resist me, and if that doesn’t do the trick, my ratty shorts and tank top will.

Once he settles in next to me, I resume the movie, not ready for an actual conversation. It only has a few minutes left, their grand romantic kiss bringing on the credits. I shut it off, my focus still split. Part of me is three hours away under a different set of blankets, and part is here with him, where I want to be.

“May I ask why we are hiding under a pile of blankets?” he asks.

“Nothing bad can happen under the blankets.” The first and most important rule.

I sigh, laying my head on his shoulder. His cheek presses into my hair. My screen shuts off, leaving us in the dark together, and I close my eyes.

He sits with me, letting me have the quiet until I say, “I’m in a very bad mood.”

“Does Very Bad Mood Callie like to talk?” he asks, moving when I lift my head from his shoulder.

“No.” I switch my phone to flashlight mode and light our small hideout in a warm glow. As I prop it in the corner, I can already feel his calming magic working wonders on me. “She also doesn’t like to be around anyone.”

At least I haven’t before, but Jordan Waters seems to be an exception to everything lately. He must consider himself exempt as well since he empties the contents from the pockets of his sweatpants. His stuff goes next to my phone.

“My presence is nonnegotiable.” He spreads out, filling most of the space.

The look of a challenge enters his eye, but he won’t get one from me. I slide his arm over and make room to lie down next to him. Just like last night, his arms wrap around me, pulling me closer. My head rests on his shoulder, and I watch my hand on his chest rise and fall as he breathes. Even breaths that mine sync with, bringing back the real air.

Weightless.

“Do you like your parents?” I don’t know why I asked. Right now, I just want … something.

A deep breath presses against my palm. “I like them as people, not as parents.”

“Elaborate?”

“I come from a family of firstborn children. Simply being the second child began a lifetime of disappointing my parents. Everything my brother either does first or someone else does better. Win a science fair? Dustin already won two. Graduate second in my class? Elsa Parker’s boy was valedictorian. I accepted it as a losing battle not worth fighting a long time ago.”

“A perfect GPA isn’t you trying to prove something to them?”

“Easily confused with a compulsive need to outshine my brother at every turn. Since our parents think he can do no wrong, it’s my job to keep his ass grounded.”

Impossible-to-please parents and a competitive streak with a sibling. No wonder he takes challenges so seriously.

“How do you know about my GPA?” he asks.

Oh, great. Now I sound like a stalker.

“Have you met Felicia? She knows everything about everyone.”

Well, not quite everyone. As part of my preparations over the summer to leave everything behind, I deleted my social media accounts. She couldn’t just click a button to learn every little detail about me. It took months of evading questions before she stopped pestering me about my life away from school.

“Does she keep a file on me?” he asks.

“It’s entirely possible. She spent the entire day of the party trying to tell me every detail she could dig up about you.”

“What all did she tell you?”

That we’d be perfect together.

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