Jordan:had to make sure you never think of as a pay pig again. pay up.
Alexis’s jaw dropped. Her fingers tightened on the fabric.
That. Fucking. Asshole.
Heat rushed through her chest. Up her neck. Across her face.
She grabbed her phone. Typed furiously.
Alexis:ARE YOU SERIOUS RIGHT NOW
Jordan:dead serious
Jordan:uber black isn’t cheap
Alexis:YOU FORCED INTO THE UBER
Jordan:i saved your life
Alexis:I WAS FINE
Jordan:you were drunk
Alexis:BARELY TIPSY
Jordan:three shots alexis
Alexis:IM NOT PAYING YOU
Jordan:then i’m reporting you to cash app court
Alexis:THATS NOT A REAL THING
Jordan:prove it
Alexis threw herself back on her bed. Stared at the ceiling. Her chandelier glittered with crystals that probably cost more than Jordan’s entire wardrobe.
Her phone buzzed again.
Jordan:clock’s ticking princess
Jordan:interest accrues at midnight
Princess. He called her princess. Again.
The nickna made sothing twist in her stomach. Sothing warm and annoying and completely unwelco.
She sat up. Typed with her thumbs moving fast.
Alexis:i’m keeping your shirt as collateral
Jordan:that’s theft
Alexis:that’s hostage negotiation
Jordan:pretty sure hostages are people
Alexis:your shirt is people to
Jordan:that’s the weirdest thing you’ve ever said
Alexis:you don’t know well enough to make that call
Jordan:fair point
Jordan:still want my $75 though
Alexis looked at the Apple Cash request. At the clean demand with no apology attached.
Her finger hovered over decline.
She pressed it. Hard.
Transaction Declined
Imdiately her phone lit up.
Jordan:oh so we’re playing hardball
Alexis:we’re not playing anything
Jordan:you’re holding my shirt hostage
Alexis:correct
Jordan:and refusing to pay your debt
Alexis:i don’t have debts
Jordan:everyone has debts alexis
Alexis:not
Jordan:you literally just created one five minutes ago
Alexis:i didn’t ask you to call the uber
Jordan:you didn’t ask not to
Alexis:BECAUSE YOU DIDNT GIVE A CHOICE
Jordan:still counts
Alexis’s face burned. Her hands clenched around her phone case. The audacity. The absolute nerve.
This boy. This stupid boy who sang like sin and looked at her like she didn’t scare him.
Her brain supplied seventeen different insults. Each one sharper than the last.
But her thumbs stayed frozen.
Because underneath the anger sat sothing else. Sothing that felt suspiciously like amusent.
He was ssing with her. Deliberately. Pushing buttons just to watch her react.
And she was reacting. Exactly how he wanted.
Ugh.
Alexis:the shirt is worth more than $75
Jordan:it’s from target
Alexis:it’s warm and slls good
Jordan:did you just complint my sll
Alexis’s stomach dropped. Oh no. Oh god. She did not just type that.
Alexis:no
Jordan:you definitely did
Alexis:i said the SHIRT slls good
Jordan:the shirt slls like
Alexis:the shirt slls like LAUNDRY
Jordan:uh huh
Jordan:sure
Alexis:I HATE YOU
Jordan:no you don’t
Alexis:YES I DO
Jordan:if you hated you wouldn’t be texting at midnight
Alexis:if you weren’t annoying i wouldn’t HAVE to text you
Jordan:compelling logic
Alexis:it’s airtight
Jordan:it’s really not
Alexis groaned. Loud. Into her empty bedroom.
Her white walls stayed silent. Her custom bedding offered no support. Even her mood lighting betrayed her by making everything look soft and romantic.
She looked down at herself. At the black henley swallowing her fra. At the way the sleeves covered her hands completely.
It really did sll good. Cedar and clean cotton and sothing underneath that made her want to press her face into the fabric.
Which was insane. Completely insane.
She was Alexis Van Der Berg. She didn’t press her face into boys’ shirts like so lovesick freshman.
Her phone buzzed.
Jordan:just admit you like the shirt
Alexis:i’m using it for evil purposes
Jordan:such as
Alexis:you’ll see
Jordan:ominous
Jordan:i’m into it
Heat rushed through Alexis’s chest again. Different this ti. Not anger.
Sothing worse.
She stood up. Walked to her full-length mirror. The one with the ring light attached that she used for outfit checks and Instagram posts.
The henley hung to mid-thigh. Made her look smaller. Softer. The sleeves bunched around her wrists. The neckline showed her collarbone and the edge of her shoulder.
She looked... cute.
Ugh. She hated cute.
Cute was for girls like Kumiko. Girls who wore twin tails and pastel colors and made boys want to protect them.
Alexis was not cute. She was hot. Intimidating. Untouchable.
But the henley made her look soft. Made her look like soone who needed taking care of.
Her phone sat on her bed. Cara ready.
An idea ford. Terrible. Petty. Absolutely perfect.
She grabbed her phone. Opened Instagram. Positioned herself on her bed with the white silk sheets as background.
The ring light cast perfect illumination. Highlighted her face and the oversized henley and nothing else.
She took the photo. Adjusted the angle. Took another. Then another.
The third one was perfect. Her head tilted slightly. Her hair falling over one shoulder. The henley’s collar loose around her neck. Her expression carefully neutral. Not smiling. Not trying.
Just existing. Looking effortlessly good in soone else’s shirt.
She opened the photo editor. Adjusted the brightness. Upped the contrast. Made her eyes pop and her skin glow.
Added a filter. Valencia. Made everything look sun-kissed and expensive.
She opened the caption box. Thought for three seconds.
comfort over style tonight 🤍
Posted.
The photo went live. Her follower count sat at forty-three thousand. Most of them bots or creepy n. But enough real people to make this statent land exactly how she wanted.
Within ten seconds the likes started rolling in.
@bradchadington69 liked your post
@alpha_mike_roo liked your post
@nice_guy_347 liked your post
Her phone exploded with notifications. Comnts flooded in.
@jessicamarks:omg gorgeous
@tylerross_:whose shirt is that 👀
@maddiechen:ALEXIS. DETAILS. NOW.
@eliza_hartwell:looking cozy babe
Alexis’s mouth curved. Just slightly. The smallest hint of satisfaction.
Let Jordan see this. Let him see her looking perfect in his stupid Target henley while forty-three thousand people validated her existence.
Let him try to ask for seventy-five dollars now.
Her phone buzzed. A text.
Jordan:really
Alexis:what
Jordan:you posted my shirt
Alexis:i posted
Alexis:the shirt just happens to be present
Jordan:that’s my henley
Alexis:it’s MY henley now
Alexis:possession is nine tenths of the law
Jordan:that’s not how that works
Alexis:it is now
Jordan:you’re impossible
Alexis:you’re annoying
Jordan:fair
Jordan:the post looks good though
Alexis’s stomach flipped. Hard. Fast.
She stared at the ssage. At the simple complint with no expectation attached.
Her thumbs hovered over the keyboard. Started typing. Deleted. Typed again.
Alexis:i know
Jordan:confident
Alexis:realistic
Jordan:sa thing
Alexis:not even close
Jordan:if you say so
Another notification. This ti from Instagram.
@jordan_mcknight liked your post
Alexis’s breath caught. She clicked on his profile.
Private account. Seventy-three followers. Profile picture was him and Kyle at the gym. Both sweaty. Both grinning.
When did he get abs like that?
She locked her phone. Threw it on her bed. Pressed her palms against her face.
This was stupid. So stupid. She was Alexis Van Der Berg. She didn’t get flustered over boys liking her Instagram posts.
Her phone buzzed again.
Jordan:you still owe $75
Alexis:THE SHIRT IS COLLATERAL
Jordan:the shirt is stolen property
Alexis:it’s a LOAN
Jordan:loans have terms
Alexis:fine. terms are i keep it until i feel like giving it back
Jordan:that’s not terms that’s theft
Alexis:sue
Jordan:tempting
Jordan: Goodnight princess
Alexis’s heart kicked against her ribs. Hard. Insistent.
She grabbed her phone. Stared at the ssage.
Then she buried her face in his henley and scread.
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