Jordan closed his door and leaned against it. The wood pressed cool against his back. His apartment felt wrong now. Too quiet. Too empty. Like someone had sucked all the oxygen out of the room.

He’d just spent three hours with Chloe. Three hours that felt like thirty minutes. Three hours where he forgot about Eliza, about Cameron, about being the Prada bag guy. Three hours where he was just Jordan talking to Chloe who was just Chloe.

His chest felt warm. The kind of warm that spread through his whole body and made his fingers tingle.

This was dangerous. This feeling. This pull toward the girl living twelve feet away through a wall.

He pushed off the door and walked to the couch. Collapsed into it. The cushions still held heat from where he’d been sitting yesterday after getting home from Target. Before the deck of cards. Before Chloe knocked on his door looking flustered and beautiful and offering to watch Netflix like it wasn’t the most loaded invitation in human history.

Jordan pulled out his phone. One percent battery. The red bar blinked at him like a warning light.

But he had to check. Had to see the numbers. Had to know if the System had tracked what he already knew in his gut.

The golden interface flickered to life. Laggy. Struggling.

CASHBACK SYSTEM

ACTIVE CONNECTIONS

Chloe Kim

Chemistry: 34%

Thirty-four percent. Up from twenty. Fourteen percent gain from snacks and movies and checking her closet for killers that didn’t exist.

Jordan’s stomach flipped. The number glowed on his dying phone screen like proof of something he didn’t want to name yet.

She’d grabbed his arm during the scary parts. Pressed her face into his shoulder. Stayed there even after the jump scare ended. Rested her head against him during the romantic comedy like it was the most natural thing in the world.

And he’d sat there frozen. Terrified to move. Terrified to breathe wrong and break whatever spell had settled over her grey sectional.

He was falling for her. He knew it. Could feel it happening in real time like watching a car crash in slow motion. Except the crash felt good. Felt right. Felt like finally coming up for air after drowning for months.

But how they started.

He’d paid her three thousand dollars to sit across from him at The Ivy. Had spent six months subscribing to her OnlyFans. Had sent her tips and bought custom content and watched her perform for a camera while pretending she was performing for him specifically.

That was their foundation. Money and fantasy and a transaction dressed up as connection.

And now she was real. Living next door. Wearing white shorts and thigh-high socks and looking at him with those dark eyes that saw through every defense he tried to build.

His phone buzzed. Once. Weak.

A text notification appeared at the top of the screen.

Chloe: jordan?

His heart kicked against his ribs.

He started typing. Stopped. Deleted it. Started again.

The phone screen flickered. Battery warning.

Jordan: yeah?

Three dots appeared. Disappeared. Came back.

The screen went black.

Dead.

Jordan stared at the blank phone in his hand. No. No no no. He needed to see what she said. Needed to know why she was texting him thirty seconds after he left her apartment.

He shot up from the couch and plugged the phone into the charger on his kitchen counter. The screen stayed black. Too dead to even show the charging icon yet.

Come on. Come on.

The screen finally lit up with the battery symbol. One percent. Charging.

Jordan unlocked it the second it allowed input. His notifications flooded the screen.

Chloe: i’m scared

Jordan put his phone in his pocket. Grabbed his keys. Walked out his door. Took three steps. Knocked.

The lock clicked on the other side. Chain rattled. Door opened.

Chloe stood there. Still in the white shorts and black thigh-highs. Hair slightly messed up. Face pink.

"Hey," Jordan said.

"Hey."

Silence stretched between them. Her fingers gripped the edge of the door.

"So you need me?" he asked.

"Yeah."

She said it quiet. Like admitting something that cost her to speak out loud.

"You want me to come in?"

"Sure."

Jordan walked past her into the apartment he’d left five minutes ago. The popcorn bowl still sat on the coffee table. Blanket bunched up on the couch where she’d been sitting. Netflix menu glowing on the TV screen.

Chloe closed the door. Locked it. Put the chain back on.

"So now what do you want to do?" Jordan turned to face her.

She bit her bottom lip. Looked at the floor. At the ceiling. Anywhere but directly at him.

"Hm. You watch anime?"

Jordan blinked. Of all the things he’d expected her to say, that wasn’t on the list.

"Fuck yeah I do."

Chloe’s face lit up. Actual genuine excitement replacing the embarrassment. "Really?"

"You sound surprised."

"You just don’t seem like the type."

"What type do I seem like?"

"I don’t know. Sports guy. Frat bro in training."

Jordan laughed. "Have you met me? I spent winter break on my bedroom floor watching League streams."

"That’s different." She walked to the couch and sat down. Pulled the blanket over her legs. "That’s just being sad. Anime is a lifestyle choice."

"Okay. So what are we watching?"

Chloe grabbed the remote and exited Netflix. Opened Crunchyroll instead. "Kumiko got me into it."

"The girl with the twin tails?"

"Yeah. She’s obsessed. Like full cosplay, convention-going, body pillow owning obsessed."

"What’s your favorite?"

Chloe scrolled through her watch list. "I’m a sucker for romance stuff. Fairy Tail hits pretty good."

Jordan sat down next to her. Closer than before. No two-cushion gap this time. "Wow. Why am I not surprised."

"What is that supposed to mean, huh?" She turned to look at him. Pouting. Actually pouting.

"Nothing. You just remind me of Lucy a lot."

"Huh. I guess so." Chloe tilted her head. "Never really thought about it but yeah. The whole celestial spirit thing is cool."

She kept scrolling. Stopped on something that made her face go red.

"Actually Kumiko made me watch High School DxD." She said it fast. Like ripping off a bandaid. "That’s where I got my Calypso personality from."