Page 43 of Limbo

Whatever he answers will decide what happens next. He pulls back, and the way he looks at me can’t mean nothing. Or maybe I want it to, so I see what I want. He presses his lips to my cheek, and I stop breathing when they sweep down to the corner of my mouth.

“Tomorrow,” he says.

My mind scrambles, searching for an excuse not to walk away. A reason to wait a little longer. But unless I want to give him the chance to really hurt me, I need to follow through. Before I convince myself not to, I back away. “Goodbye, Jordan.”

“I’ll talk to you tomorrow, beautiful.”

He won’t. And part of me has always known that.

I climb into the car and leave him in the parking lot.

Stubbornness along with annoyance completes the first half of the drive. Then the annoyance reigns supreme, and the confines of the car become more than I can bear. I park behind a gas station, needing air. Like a lunatic—or Jordan studying—I walk back and forth by my car, my mind torn. Very torn.

Why couldn’t he admit to actual feelings? I, Callie Henders, the girl who avoids emotion at all costs, can manage. What the hell is his excuse?

“Oh, ask me tomorrow, beautiful,” I say in my best Jordan voice, which turns out rather spot-on. Bullshit. The whole thing has gone on for too long already. If we can’t even come to terms with wanting to be together, a relationship would be an absolute disaster.

“God, he’s so frustrating,” I shout at no one.

Actually, I shout at a truck driver, who eyes me through his rolled-down window.Fucking great.Towel Boy has me ranting aloud in front of a stranger behind a seedy gas station in the middle of nowhere due to his ability to perfectly balance infuriating and irresistible.

Oh. My. God.Mid-stride, I stop and cover my face with my hands.

I find him irresistible.

“You all right, darlin’?”

I peek through my fingers at the truck driver, who is clearly worried about my sanity. An understandable concern that I share right now, too.

My hands drop to my sides. “Yeah. Romantic crisis.”

He nods and politely returns to staring at me.

After a few deep breaths, a sigh of deliberation, and an oh-what-the-hell groan, I jump in the car, no clue what the hell I’m about to do.

A few minutes to six, I grab my bags from the passenger seat and go inside. The bags land on the floor, and I rub my neck to alleviate the tension. A mixture of three hours in the car and everything else has combined into a solid knot.

Connor texts.

He’s here. Shut off your phone.

Well, Henders, no turning back now.

As my phone powers down, Felicia bounces into my room with Jess on her heels. “Ready?” she asks, reaching out her hands.

Despite the massive weight of anxiety compressing my chest, I nod. She squeals and pulls me out the door.

In true Felicia fashion, she won’t let a single minute of our Friday night go to waste. We meet Cam for dinner. The four of us are rarely together all at once at the dorm, so everyone joining forces for a meal constitutes a damn miracle.

On her way to meet Sawyer for Valentine’s Day, Cam drops the other three of us off at the bar. I consider turning my phone on, but it’s already nine, and three hours’ worth of texts and voicemails from Graham hold zero appeal. Felicia loops her arm through mine, not giving me a chance anyway. We flash our fake IDs at the guy manning the door and walk right in, no problem.

The music and voices create a buzz in the air as we scan the at-capacity crowd. With Jess’s eye for Jordan as sharp as ever, she points toward their table. I keep waiting for her strange obsession with him to bother me, but the possibility of her ripping his clothes off every time he comes near her amuses me to no end.

We move through the bodies toward them, but Benji steps in front of me. “Well, look who just won me the award for best damn birthday gift.”

A grin delivers my only warning before he scoops me up and throws me over his shoulder. I laugh as he carries me through the sea of people.

He deposits me in the chair next to Jordan. “Don’t say I never gave you anything.”

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