Page 37 of Limbo

Felicia giggles, giving him the response he wants. “Good morning, Charlie.”

“Technically,” Cam says, “in aCharlie’s Angelsscenario, he’d be Bosley since he’s delivering coffee.”

He glares at her and squeezes between me and the arm of the couch. “Guess who’s not getting a coffee.”

I take the carrier from him, and before he can object, I pass two cups down for Felicia and Cam, keeping the last one for myself. “You?”

His expression softens as he secures an arm around me. “Whatever you say, beautiful.”

Flutters, chills—his look delivers them all.

“Don’t you have class this morning?” I say, already knowing the answer.

He grins his cocky grin. “Sure do. But I also have to drive you. Priorities, Callie. You’ll understand when you’re older.”

I narrow my eyes at him. “You can drop me off a few minutes early and make it to your class on time. Compromise, Jordan. Something you should have learned about when you were younger.”

He stares at me a few seconds before he steals my cup. “I have a sneaking suspicion you aren’t the most familiar with the word either.”

I suppose he’s right on that one.

On the drive to the dorms from my afternoon class, Jordan turns up the volume on a Nirvana song. All the music he plays when I’m with him matches what I rattled off on the porch the night of the party, even the two-thousands pop. And knowing him, it’s not a coincidence.

“May I?” I pick up his phone from the cupholder, wanting to snoop through his music.

He nods, not worried about me seeing anything I shouldn’t. A smile spreads across his face, and I understand why as soon as I read the name of the playlist—Impress Callie.

I shake my head, setting it down. “Do you put this much effort into everything you do?”

He stifles a laugh. “Not in the slightest.”

“Then why all the effort with me?” I ask, still on the minimal bullshit regime prescribed by Benji.

“Because you, Callie Henders, are my muse.”

I sigh at his Jordan-esque reply. “That’s the smooth answer. What’s the real one?”

A finger taps the wheel, and he shifts in his seat. “I don’t have one. Not a solid one anyway. I could make up some bullshit filled with half-truths, but you deserve better.”

A better answer but not quite there.

He turns into the dorm parking lot. “I have band practice tonight, but can I come by later?”

Possibly the last night I’ll spend with him, depending on what transpires over the next twenty-four hours, so of course, I’ll say yes. “As long as I don’t have to stroke your hair.”

“You just don’t want to admit how much you love running your fingers through my luscious locks.”

I wrinkle my nose at him even though I can’t disagree.

As he pulls up to the building, I rest my head on the headrest. He shifts into park and gestures for me to come closer. I lean over the center console, and he comes the rest of the way. His gaze touches my lips before he kisses my cheek.

“I’ll see you later, beautiful,” he says.

All melty on the inside, I pull back. But every bit of good in the moment vanishes when I face forward to get out. My eyes lock straight ahead, and I can’t move. Paralyzed as time stops. Everything floats, suspended in the space around me, and nothing feels right or real anymore because my world, this world where I’m supposed to be, doesn’t have a blue truck with a rust spot above the rear bumper on the passenger side. Yet I’m staring at one, parked at the curb thirty feet ahead of me. Every muscle in my body tenses, the pulse throbbing in my face. That’s the outline of the back of his head in the cab. The cab of the truck that isn’t supposed to be at my school.

The voice saying my name warbles, underwater and far away, until a hand grips my shoulder. “…are you okay?” Jordan asks.

I force myself present and look at him, wishing for the calm to envelop me. When it doesn’t, the practiced expression plasters on my face as easy as ever. “Yeah, I’m fine. I’ll see you later.”

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