Page 40 of Limbo

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

“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.”

We make quite the pair. One defeated by the future and one by the past. It sounds like the start of a tagline to a superhero movie.

His fingers trail their way up my arm, sending chills through me. “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.” Unlike him, I reply without consideration, knowing the answer since before I could ride a bike. Probably even earlier if I really think about it, but I won’t. Searching for the first moment I realized they were terrible people isn’t a rabbit hole of memories I’ll willingly dive down.

Jordan must notice the tension return to my body and strokes my hair. “Who was your first childhood crush?”

Grateful for the change of subject, I try to relax and focus on him. “Pete Daniels in preschool. You?”

“Maggie Larsen, babysitter. What about your first kiss?”

“Pete Daniels.” I raise my head to gauge his reaction. “Just to clarify, he was also my first date and first boyfriend.” And a couple of other things.

He shakes his head. “Pete needs to die.”

Tinge of jealousy noted, I ask him the same.

“Maggie Larsen,” he says, not missing a beat.

I smile, not believing him. “Really?”

“No, Callie.” He shoves my head down. “She was fifteen, and I was five.”

I laugh, pressing my cheek to his chest. “A real ladies’ man would have sealed that deal.”

He keeps asking questions, somehow treading nowhere near the topics that could drag me out of the moment. When he runs out, we switch. For a while, nothing outside of the blankets matters. Nothing else even exists. Just him and me, and I realize how much I like it. How much I like him and his innate ability to make me forget all the heaviness and just be.

Far too soon, his phone vibrates over and over, probably with birthday messages, which means we’re approaching midnight. He shuts it off and tosses it in the corner, but the spell’s broken. Everything on the other side of the fabric has infiltrated our tiny space, including the possible reason he’s even here with me.

I sit up, doubt sinking back in. “Do you really want to start your twenty-first year on the planet in a blanket fort with a bitchy girl who won’t put out?”

“You’re right,” he says. “My birthday wish includes a bitchy girl whodoesput out. Do you think Jess knows how to build a decent fort?”

Playing along, I shrug. “You could go ask. If not, you two can use this one.”

He makes a face. “Celibacy sounds preferable.”

I lie down, facing him like last night and trying to search his face for an answer. “Is this still just to sleep with me?”

He rolls over and props himself on an elbow, studying me right back. “Ask me on Saturday.”

Not sure what that has to do with anything, I whisper, “I won’t be here on Saturday,” distracted when his gaze drops to my lips.

My breath hitches when he leans in. He kisses my forehead and the tip of my nose before taking a deep breath, his breath hot on my skin when he exhales.

“Just do as you’re told, you maddening woman.”

Less than an inch separates us, the small space even smaller the longer we stay this close. All it takes is one of us, one move, one moment, and this will all be over. Except I still have no idea what “over” means.

Needing distance before I lose my mind, I flop onto my back and let out a frustrated sigh. “This is the longest five seconds in the history of the world.”

“Five seconds?” His eyebrows shoot up. “Why do you and Benji both keep mentioning five seconds?”

Damn it, Benji.

---