Page 59 of Limbo

“No,” he says. “You owe me something else.”

And I’m thinking about Jordan on the porch when he jumped off the banister, wearing my pink hat and his cocky grin. Parker continues talking, but I can’t even feign interest anymore, because no matter how much I pretend it doesn’t, missing Jordan really fucking hurts. The hole he ripped inside me, the weight and ache and everything I’ve been trying to avoid since he walked away, suddenly overwhelms me.

Finally, I can’t stand it anymore. In my head, I politely excuse myself from the conversation. In actuality, I walk away without a word and head up the stairs. Someone steps out of the bathroom at the perfect time. I don’t even turn on the light, just lower onto the floor to the cushy bathmat. The chill of the porcelain tub seeps through the back of my shirt. I focus on it and the heels of my hands pressing hard into the floor, but the ache spreads further, tightening in my chest and overpowering my senses until I feel it rising in my chest, throat, eyes.

“No,” I scramble off the floor. “No. No. No.”

A bathroom at a party is the last fucking place I will cry. I brace my hands on each side of the sink and challenge the girl in the mirror to bury it all one more time. To shove every shred of emotion into that stupid, empty space. She stares back at me, resembling my mother more than ever with the dark circles under bloodshot eyes, but she appears equally determined not to become a cliché. Slowly, I regain control, and everything returns below the surface. Not as far as it once stayed, but far enough for now.

I give myself another minute and go downstairs. Neither Becca nor Felicia look anywhere near ready to leave, so I catch up with another group going back to the dorms. On my way out the door, Benji swipes the phone out of my hand.

“Unlock,” he says, waving it around. I comply, and he taps away for a few seconds before tossing it back. “Text me, Calico. Anytime. Any reason.”

I note my new contact, Benjamin “Badass” Jones and find it in me to give him a small smile. “Thanks, Benji.”

He shrugs. “Don’t thank me yet.”

With that cryptic comment, he spins on his heel and walks away.

When I get to the dorms, I tromp up to the suite and unlock the door on autopilot, but halfway through the common area, I stop. I retreat a few steps, wondering if Smiling Frat Boy messed with my drink because why the fuck am I hallucinating a shirtless Johnny on my couch?

“Hey, sweetheart,” a very real Johnny says.

My eyebrows pull in as he kicks back with his black boots on the coffee table.

He notices the look on my face and adds, “Oh, I’m smashing Jess now.”

I smile at the matter-of-fact delivery of his line and head to my room. No questions asked.

By the time I get to Graham’s on Friday night, he seems to have forgotten about my transgressions from two weeks ago. Whatever line of bullshit Trey fed him when he picked up my stuff must have worked. He doesn’t speak to me from the moment I walk in, and on Saturday, he returns to his normal, absent self, leaving me with my phone and the keys to my car. Helpful, since I need to throw myself back in the fire and fill in the last of the missing pieces.

The lines form between Connor’s eyebrows as I put on my coat. “Cal…”

“I give you permission to hunt me down if I’m not back in an hour.” I swipe my hair out of the neck lining.

“How much damage can you do in an hour?”

I purse my lips, seriously contemplating his question. “Better make it half an hour.” I wink and back out the door.

Typical for a Saturday afternoon, Main Street is empty, except for two cars in front of the grocery store. I circle the block to the parking area behind the bar. Pete’s grandparents bought the place when we were little. We spent more time playing in the apartment upstairs than anywhere else. Now he lives up there and splits his time between working here and the farm.

A sheriff’s cruiser and extended cab truck are the only two vehicles in sight and the only two I need. I park and grab the gray sweatshirt from the seat. The heavy door sticks as I pull open the back entrance. After nearly tripping over an empty cardboard box, I maneuver around more on my way down the hall.

I push through the swinging door into the main area and find Pete sprawled out on top of the bar with Trey perched on a stool, drinking a beer.

Pete’s head tilts back to see me. “Shit, Cal. Why couldn’t you have felt this undeniable attraction to me five years ago?”

Trey plants his hands on Pete’s hip and shoves him over the edge where a thump precedes a groan.

He hops up and grabs an empty mug like nothing happened. “Beer?”

I join my cousin, and Pete slides me a draft.

“I figured you’d be in hiding all weekend.” Trey smiles, but it stops short of his eyes, the guilt for the part he played in my lost weekend showing through.

All of his calls since then have gone unanswered. Even now, I’m not ready to talk to him, but I need to know the details.

“How does your boyfriend feel about your obsession with me?” Pete’s playful grin waits when I look up from my beer.

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