Page 44 of Limbo

Jordan’s eyes widen, and he smiles for a second before it flips to a frown. “What are you doing here?”

A million miles away from the greeting I expected. “You invited me.”

“I just didn’t think I was seeing you until Sunday.” His eyes dart between me and his beer, which he slides in front of me. “You can have this one.”

“Thanks,” I say, wondering if Jordan plans on making an appearance or if I’m risking the wrath of Graham for the dude sitting next to me.

Felicia slips into my lap, handing him a shot. “Happy birthday—the right way.”

“Thank you, Gibson.” He smiles—a fake one—setting the glass down. “I’m pacing myself.”

She shrugs and hops up, her sights set on someone across the bar. Jordan stares off, not showing interest in anything. Especially not me. It makes little sense, given our last interaction a few hours ago, and I wonder what the hell I’m missing.

“I’m jealous.” A guy takes over the chair on the other side of me. “Everyone has these fantastic stories of meeting you, and all I get is walking up to you in the bar and introducing myself.”

It takes a second to recognize him because nothing visually connects him to the rest of the band. No tattoos, smaller stature, dark hair buzzed short.

“Gavin, I take it?”

“Bassist extraordinaire. And you’re Callie Henders, aka Calico, aka Coconut Chick, aka The Girl.”

The numerous aliases I’ve gained without my knowledge impress me. “So, we need a more exciting first encounter?”

“Exactly what I’m saying. If you’re short on ideas, we can recycle one. Like when you met Jordan and made out with him.”

“Sure. But you’ll want to get mostly naked first. For accuracy and all.”

He grins. “I like you, Callie Henders. And I approve.”

Our conversation ends when Johnny’s shirt peels off on the far side of the room. Gavin goes to wrangle him over to the table. When they return, Jess abandons Team Jordan in favor of Team Johnny and sidles up next to him. An interesting development.

But not even losing one of his biggest fans garners a reaction from Jordan. He offers me a halfhearted smile once, and then the water glass in his hand becomes his obsession. He nods and contributes to conversations so long as they don’t involve me. To the untrained eye—or any eye for that matter—my presence seems to be single-handedly ruining his birthday.

After about an hour of awkwardness, Benji nails me with a piece of ice from across the table. He looks to Jordan and back, holding up five fingers. I shake my head and flash all ten multiple times, letting him know how wrong he was about the entire situation. He rubs a hand over his chin and switches seats. He hooks his arm around Jordan’s neck and leans in. I’m not sure what he says, but Jordan’s gaze flies to me. Benji winks at me before forcefully removing Jordan from his seat and dragging him through the crowd.

As they disappear, I notice the decorative centerpieces for the first time. Red foil hearts and flowers in a basket. They take up room on every single table, except the one occupied by us.

Then it occurs to me. I truly am an idiot. A guy and girl being together on Valentine’s Day carries specific implications, and every girl in the bar can see him with me. My presence doesn’t ruin his birthday but instead a slew of potential hook-ups. He’s never wanted more, and again, I let him make me doubt myself.

At least this time, he also makes it easy to walk away.

Felicia catches my arm as I gather up my coat. “Hey, what’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” I say, forcing a smile. “I need some air and might call a ride to the dorms.”

“You want me to come?”

I shake my head. “No. Stay. Find your Valentine, Gibson.”

She gives me a quick squeeze before I push through the crowd, my expression fading the second I leave her sight.

A cold wind whips against the side of my face when I get outside. I pull out my phone, stopping short of powering it on. All the messages and threatening calls wait for me. Since the payoff no longer exists, the potential consequences of defying Graham hit me full force. Not ready to deal with them yet, I wander down the sidewalk and around the corner of the building where the wind no longer bothers me.

The black screen continues to taunt me as I lean against the wall. I consider the possibility of staying here all night to avoid turning it on. Other than boredom from standing in the shadows like a creep and the eventual need to pee, I can’t think of anything to stop me.

But then, from around the corner, I hear Jordan say, “Hold on. I can’t hear you with the—oh shit.” He stops short to keep from running me over.

Unbelievable. A girl can’t catch a break.

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