Page 62 of Limbo

I shove my phone in my pocket, relieved, disappointed, and a few other conflicting emotions always related to Jordan Waters. Between Jess, Johnny, and Benji, the day will come when he and I wind up in the same place at the same time. As much as I should dread the moment, part of me can’t fucking wait.

To say this party is unique would constitute a flat-out lie. Other than different faces and a rougher crowd, everything seems business as usual. Red cups. Loud music. Stale beer smell.

We walk around the beer pong table set up in the living room and locate the keg in the kitchen. I immediately forget Felicia’s cousin’s name after he introduces himself. He chats with us in the living room and educates me on all the details of the amazing party.

“The best of the year.”

If I hadn’t known the relation before, it would be obvious with that comment.

Felicia pushes up to her tiptoes, looking over heads toward the door. “Jess should be here by now.”

I check the time, surprised we’ve been here an hour already. “Maybe they got lost?”

“I’ll call them.” She heads toward the front door, the bodies swallowing her.

Left alone, Cousin and I share an awkward smile that lasts far too long before I say, “Bathroom?”

He points out the long line spilling into the living room from the hallway. “If you go to the end of the hall and hang a left, there’s another one.”

I nod a thanks and entrust him to relay my whereabouts to Felicia.

A well-known fact, State kids are sloppy drunks. Several are already leaning against walls, unable to stand, while others stumble around. I have to step over one passed out in the middle of the floor. Once I clear everyone, I follow the long hall far past the bathroom line. At the end, I turn into an abandoned corridor with several closed doors on each side. After a few wrong attempts, I successfully locate the smallest bathroom in existence. Quite the treasure hunt, but hey, no line.

On my return trip, I consider recommending Cousin offer a tour guide or sell maps at the gift shop. The house is enormous, and a less fortunate soul not adhering to a two-drink rule could become lost in the grid-patterned floor plan.

As I round the corner back to the main hallway, I collide with a large body. His hand plants on my back after the initial impact.

“I thought I saw you come this way,” he says.

My eyes snap up at the voice, and I back up to gain space from the towering, muscular blond in front of me. Some people find the dimple in his chin and the heat in his eyes sexy—my mother for instance—but not me.

“Tyler, what are you doing here?”

He stares at my chest without shame and trails his hand up my bare arm. “My school, babe. What are you doing here?”

I rarely listen when he talks, but did I know he went here? “My friend’s cousin lives here.”

“Nice.” His gaze rakes up and down my body, so I doubt he’s responding to what I said.

I can’t remember the last time I wore anything relatively form-fitting around him for this exact reason. The pig can’t keep his eyes in their sockets. I wrap my arms around myself, hiding what I can.

Behind him, at the end of the hall, people are waiting in line for the bathroom. Farther still, more walk by where it opens to the living room. A lot of distance separates me from them. It seems like even more with him standing between us, and I want to close it.

“See you later.”

I try to pass him, but his backward strides match mine, step for step.

“Come on, we never get to hang out, just the two of us.”

“Why would we?” I spit back.

“Let’s go somewhere.” He stops, requiring me to as well since he’s again blocking my path. His eyes are glassy, and he reeks of alcohol.

“You’re drunk. Go sleep it off. Or better yet, call your girlfriend.”

I attempt to move around him, but his hand presses against my stomach to keep me in place.

“Come back to my place.” The hand slips around to my ass.

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