Page 87 of Limbo

A little dive bar across town hosts an open mic night every Thursday. Benji holds the creaky red metal door for me, and I step inside to the exact hole-in-the-wall I expected.

I immediately spot the regulars—six annoyed men crowded in at one end of the bar with a pitcher of beer in the middle of the table. Not one of them looks impressed with the college kids and twenty-somethings invading their space.

Drinks in hand, Benji ushers me through the crowd and pulls out a chair for me at the last empty table, dead center of the room. He slides into the seat next to me while nodding at someone near the stage. The guy drops the mess of tangled cords he’s fighting with and comes over.

“You made it.” He eyes me, surprised by my presence. “And you brought a lady?”

“Jordan’s lady. My date.” Benji smirks at his vague explanation. “It’s a whole thing; don’t worry about it.”

The guy shakes his head, dismissing his confusion. “Either way, she sounds off-limits.”

Benji gestures between us with his beer bottle. “Callie, this is Mike. He sets up most of the open mic nights around town.”

Mike and I exchange a polite, introductory smile. At least we do until Benji clears his throat and leans over. His arm settles on the back of my chair as he stares out a warning.

Oh, good Lord.

Mike’s hands go up, and he backs toward the stage. “Off-limits. Got it.”

With the ceremonial marking of the territory complete and the perimeter around me once again secure, Benji relaxes in his seat. I sigh, and he struggles to keep a straight face, bringing the bottle to his lips.

“What?” he asks, before taking a drink.

“Just wondering if I should worry about you trying to pee on me next.”

“Whatever it takes to keep the other dogs away.” He loses his battle and chuckles when I glare at him. “Sorry, Calico, but you might as well get used to the overprotective routine. I take my duties as best friend very seriously. If that means I have to stand in as your boyfriend from time to time to scare a guy away, then tattoo your name on my chest with a heart around it.”

I laugh at his dedication, not doubting him for a second. “Let’s hold off on the ink. But it’s nice to know I have a backup in case I break the real boyfriend.”

“Speaking of the real one…” Benji tips his head to the side. “You know Jordan’s freaking out about the two of you being together, right?”

I sigh as he confirms what I’ve been worrying about. The first time I noticed something was off was over the weekend. During one of the few PG-rated conversations Jordan and I had, someone on his end of the call asked who he was talking to.

He answered, “It’s my girl—it’s Callie.”

Another was Tuesday night. We were in the living room, and Gavin wanted me to weigh in on a girl he’d brought home.

Jordan kicked him out, telling him, “She’s not your Hot or Not meter. She’s my … Callie.”

On top of his reluctance to call me his girlfriend, he also shoots me a panicked look anytime other people refer to me as such. It bothers me because Jordan has me. No questions. I can’t even look at anyone else without mentally checking off all the ways they fall short. But, as Mike’s shock demonstrated, anyone who knows the boys of Beta Void is well aware that none of them ever commit to one girl. I thought after our perfectly imperfect week together, that would change … but maybe not.

“Let me guess,” I say. “He’s not ready for a relationship.”

Benji’s forehead wrinkles. “Actually, I’m pretty sure it’s the exact opposite. He’s waiting for you to either confirm or deny whetheryou’reready. I swear, he slips up and almost calls you his girlfriend at least once per conversation. You really haven’t noticed?”

I smile at how neurotic and completely Jordan that sounds. “If that’s the case, why doesn’t he say something?”

His head drops back, and he lets out an exasperated groan. “Because the day you two are honest with each other about your feelings before a bunch of dramatic bullshit goes down is the day the world ends.” He sits forward in his chair, gray eyes searching mine. “He’s crazy about you, woman. Cut the bullshit, tell him you’re together, and put the guy out of his misery already.”

“Have I ever told you how insightful you are?” I ask.

“Not today,” he says, clinking his beer bottle against mine.

Feedback squeals through the speakers surrounding the room as Mike takes the stage. He welcomes everyone and introduces the first performer. A kid, dressed in all black, climbs the steps with a ukulele in his hand.

Benji’s eyes widen as he mouths,Fuck.

The first few performances nearly end him, an agonizing look on his face the entire time, but after Mike nudges him on the way past our table, his demeanor changes. He appears lost in thought, not paying attention anymore. When Sunflower-Sundress Savannah takes the stage with her acoustic guitar to let us know all about her being dumped by a guy named Dean, he scoots his chair closer to mine. “So, I might have had an ulterior motive for bringing you here tonight.”

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