Page 29 of Off Limits

Nothing happened. I have nothing to feel guilty about. I didn’t actually kiss Ellie, even if I wanted to. And she wanted me to, too.

And Calaskedme to make sure his sister got home. I was just doing what he asked me to do. I didn’t need to practically hang up on her just because Cal came home.

And so what if I want to kiss Ellie? Do more than just kiss Ellie? We’re both consenting adults. We obviously have chemistry and attraction in spades. Why is it any of Cal’s business who I date?

It’s not, really. Yeah, he’s my friend. Yeah, Ellie is his sister, and I know he’s super protective of her—overprotective, really, especially based on Ellie’s reaction to his behavior—but I’m not the kind of guy he’s worried about getting involved with his sister. And if things with Ellie go sour, it’s not like I’d expect him to pick sides. I don’t spend time with his family anyway, so we could maintain our friendship without any issues. At least in this hypothetical fantasy land where actions don’t have consequences.

What the fuck am I even thinking?

Cal taps on my door. “Simon? You awake?” he calls softly.

I open the door. “Yeah. I just got off the phone with Ellie.”

He gives me a funny look and leans against the doorjamb with his arms crossed. “You actually called her? You could’ve just texted.”

I shrug. “I did text her. She seemed like she needed to talk, so I called.” I have to restrain the urge to roll my eyes at myself. Sure, Jan.She’sthe one who needed to talk.

Cal grunts. “She okay?”

Dropping down on the bed, I rub my hand over my mouth, debating exactly how much of what she said I should relay to him. Should I just tell him she’s fine and leave it at that? Or should I tell him to ask her himself, like she said?

He straightens, staring me down. “What is it? What’s wrong? Did that shithead Granger do something to her?”

Chuckling, I hold out my hands in a calming gesture. “Dude. Calm your tits. No, Granger just walked her home, she said. She made it home safely. But she’s pissed at you.”

He shrugs his shoulders and fidgets with his shirt. “Yeah, well, I’m pissed at her, so I guess we’re even.”

I make an exasperated sound and shake my head. “Dude. She’s a sophomore. She’s bound to go to parties. Chill out.”

Grumbling, he shrugs again. “Fine, fine, but that doesn’t mean she needs to be at the same parties as me. I don’t need to watch my baby sister getting molested and ogled by drunk frat brothers. And you’ve heard the rumors about Omega Nu. You know what those guys are like.”

I let out a slow breath, considering that. “They’re also taking the action against Sigma Chi seriously. The next frat who gets in trouble loses their charter at the school. They don’t want that. The current board is trying to clean up their reputation.”

Cal snorts.

I hold up my hands again. “In any case, it’s not like she knew you’d be there. Do you want her to text you before she goes to a party to make sure you’re not planning on going? And what good would that do? We both know you’d make a point to show up to check up on her. And she knows it too.”

Cal sighs, his shoulders slumping. “Fine, you’re right. But how would you feel if you were in my shoes? What if it were your sisters showing up at frat parties with a million guys sniffing after them?”

I laugh at that. “Well, I’d probably call my parents and let them know my ten-year-old sisters had snuck out after bedtime and gotten lost. And then I’d drive them home. Because they’re ten. Apples to oranges there, dude.”

He’s all grumbly again. “You know what I mean.”

Standing, I move past him, heading for the kitchen. “I do know what you mean, drama queen. And I stand by my statement. She’s old enough to go to parties with her friends if she wants to. She knows you’ll bail her out if she’s ever in trouble. She’ll call you if she needs you.”

Cal opens the fridge and pulls out some leftovers—a chicken and vegetable stir fry and sticky rice. He lifts up the container and cocks his eyebrow, silently offering me some. Nodding, I pull down two bowls, and he splits the food between them, popping his in the microwave first.

It’s clear he’s mulling over what I’ve said as he gets his food ready, because when it’s finally warm, he pulls out the bowl and leans back against the counter, holding the hot dish with a towel. “How do you know all that?” he asks as I cover my bowl and take my turn with the microwave.

I shrug. “She told me.”

“Tonight?”

I freeze for a second. Do I tell him the truth? But just like there’s no reason to feel guilty for calling her tonight—and I already told him about that—there’s no reason not to tell him I apologized for ruining her date last week.

Shaking my head, I take my bowl out and stir it before putting it back in. “Nah. This was the other day. I bumped into her on campus and apologized for ruining her date, since she didn’t really seem to accept my apology that night.”

Cal grunts, his mouth full. “Sounds like you talked for a while,” he says after he swallows.

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