Page 36 of Elusion

I smile at her, and the last of the tension leaves her face. She trusts me, adding another person to the list of people I risk letting down. No pressure or anything, ladies.

In a few seconds, I’m standing in front of Callie’s door. I let myself in after a rapid knock. My eyes fight to adjust to the darkness until I use the light from my phone.

What has the unpredictable girl done now?

I navigate my way toward the two stripped beds, a tent of blankets built between them. Muffled voices come from beneath it. They stop, and Callie peeks her head out of a slit. “Shoes off.”

She says nothing else before disappearing inside. I snort and slip off my sneakers. Two hours away from turning twenty-one, I prepare to enter a pillow fort. I crawl in, examining her handiwork. Two desk chairs and the beds keep the structure erect. Pillows from her and Cam’s beds cover the floor along with more blankets. Seven-year-old Jordan would have approved of her extensive experience in the art of fort construction.

Back against the bed, Callie sits in shorts and a tank top, holding her phone. I settle in next to her, and without a word, she resumes a movie. Anyone else, and I’d complain about the rom-com, but for her, I’ll watch a girl ride through traffic in a taxi while a guy chases her on a motorcycle. They talk and kiss, and thank God the end credits roll within five minutes.

She shuts off the movie and stares straight ahead, not entirely focused on anything. She seems more here than earlier, but I still proceed with caution. “May I ask why we are hiding under a pile of blankets?”

“Nothing bad can happen under the blankets.” She says it as if it were the truest statement ever made.

Her head drops onto my shoulder, and she sighs. I rest my cheek on top of her head. Our surroundings darken when the light on her phone shuts off, and we just sit. It feels like where I’m supposed to be. With this girl in this blanket tent. If only I could trust myself to feel the same way after tomorrow.

“I’m in a very bad mood,” she says.

“Does Very Bad Mood Callie like to talk?” I lift my head when she moves.

“No.” She illuminates the space with the flashlight on her phone and sets it in the corner. A trace of a smile crosses her lips when she looks at me. “She also doesn’t like to be around anyone.”

I remove my keys, phone, and wallet from my sweatpants pocket and toss them next to her phone. “My presence is nonnegotiable.” I sprawl out on the pillows and make myself comfortable.

Bad mood or not, I have no intention of spending my night anywhere else. If she argues, I plan on playing the almost-birthday card. But she drags my arm away from my body and flops down in the newly created space. My priorities shift from keeping my hands off her to comforting her. All other concerns I cast to the wayside as I draw her in close. Now, if only we could stay like this for the next twenty-six hours with her head on my shoulder and a hand on my chest.

“Do you like your parents?” she asks after a while.

I mull over a response, not sure anyone has ever asked before. “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.” I rethink her question and ask, “How do you know my GPA?”

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

Almost everyone, I want to correct her. One particular person’s story continues to elude her, to elude me.

“Does she keep a file on me?”

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

Frickin’ Gibson. She was in my corner before I even started playing the game. She deserves a Christmas card every year for the rest of my life or something else along the lines of repayment.

“What all did she tell you?” I ask.

“Your major, age, but she didn’t know your future plans.”

Who does?

“Unless I can persuade my parents to let me do anything else with my life, I’ll be attending law school after graduation. Another battle I’ve probably already lost.” I trail my fingers down the length of her arm, and she shifts even closer. “Well, now you know about my overly competitive rivalry with my asshole brother and my status as a constant disappointment to my parents. What about you? Do you like your parents?”

“No.”

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