In His Kiss - Ava Alise Page 0,4

is a lot tenser than he was when we were in the café, yet when he slides into the driver’s seat next to me and shuts the door, he repeats an earlier statement. “It doesn't mean anything until it does.”

I shake my head, because for some reason, this time those words piss me off. I’m about to tell him just that when my phone buzzes in my lap. I look down and read the new message and I chuckle, but it’s not a joyous laugh, it’s the inappropriate type that bubbles up when your emotions are teetering between a full explosion and a full meltdown. I grip my phone tightly in my fist and hold the screen out to him.

“Now does it mean anything?”

Jordan looks at my phone and reads the message from my father.

Dad: Sorry I missed your call sweetheart. I’m heading to the airport now about to board. I’ll call you when I land.

His eyes widen as they move to mine and it’s as if his body deflates. His sturdy frame, sculpted thanks to college football, seems more round, his honey brown eyes seem more pale, and his complexion goes ashen. He looks like he may be sick. I know I feel like I’m going to throw up. My skin goes prickly all over and I don’t know if I’m about to cry or scream but I’m at a total loss for words as I look at him

Without another word, he starts the car and heads back to town.

2

JORDAN

Why is it that no one ever warned me about Murphy's Law? That whole “what can go wrong will go wrong” bullshit? I’ve been preparing for this interview with Satchi for two weeks. Going over interview questions, collecting letters of recommendation from my other professors. And what do I do on the morning of? Sleep through my damn alarm.

Incessant chatter wakes me and I stretch, turning toward my alarm clock. For Christmas last year, my dad got Xia and I matching clock radios with built in Bluetooth speakers. We both frowned when we opened it. No one uses these things anymore, and even with the new technology they added, it took me months to take it out of the box. Surprisingly, I’ve grown to like it, though I mainly use it for the speaker.

My eyes take a second to focus on the tiny red blur on the screen but when it does my blood turns cold and pure panic seeps into my chest.

“Fuck, Roman!” I yell as I slap the off button on the clock and grab my cell phone. It’s ten thirty. Not nine a.m. Ten fucking thirty. My charger is nowhere to be found and the phone is completely dead. I set it along with the clock on my nightstand last night so I’d have a double whammy of alarms this morning to avoid precisely this. But I guess my brain is more accustomed to my phone alarm because the other one didn’t wake me until now.

In only a pair of boxers and socks, I leap to my feet and dart down the hall toward Roman’s room. I’m going to kick his ass for this. He took my charger again. Granted, my phone was at one hundred percent before I went to bed, but I dropped the damn thing in water last week. I did the whole “bury the device in rice” thing to revive it, which sort of worked, but the battery power absolutely sucks.

It takes me only seconds to reach his door. “Hey asshole, charger,” I yell, banging loudly. When a second goes by and he doesn’t answer, it dawns on me that he’s probably already left for class. I push the door open and grab my charger, still plugged in and dangling from the wall near his bed. Then race back to my room.

I nearly slip on the wood floors as I slide toward my bed and plug my phone in. I have an hour and a half before my interview, but the problem is I don’t have my car. It broke down two days ago, shortly after I dropped Xia off at her dorm. I texted to check on her last night and it was clear she was still pretty upset but she tries to play tough. It never works with me but she made me promise not to worry about her until after my interview. I told her tough shit, but I love her for thinking of me, even in her pain.

I mash