He closed the app and finally set his phone back down on the nightstand, making sure it was face-down so the screen wouldnât light up with any more notifications that might wake Chloe up. The sudden quiet felt strange after all the digital fanfare, like stepping out of an arcade into a library.
Chloe shifted against him, her leg sliding higher up his thigh in a way that would have been distracting if he wasnât already completely spent from their earlier activities. Her breath ghosted warm across his collarbone, and he could smell her shampoo, something fruity and expensive that probably cost more than his old grocery budget.
Jordan carefully adjusted his position to get more comfortable, using his newly enhanced balance and coordination to move without jostling her awake. The difference was immediately noticeable. His body seemed to know exactly how to shift his weight, which muscles to engage, how to slide across the sheets without making noise or disturbing the careful arrangement of limbs theyâd settled into.
Okay fine. Maybe the disco thing isnât completely useless after all. This could actually be pretty handy for sneaking around.
He wrapped his arm around Chloeâs waist and pulled her closer, enjoying the way she automatically molded herself to his side like theyâd been sleeping together for years instead of days. She made a soft, contented sound in her sleep and burrowed into his side like a cat seeking warmth, her hand splaying across his chest in a gesture that felt possessive and protective at the same time.
The System notification about registering a second girlfriend still sat unread in his messages. Jordan could feel it there like a weight in his pocket, a problem waiting to explode if he ignored it too long. The seventy-two hour countdown had probably already started ticking away in the background, marking time until heâd have to face the impossible conversation.
Seventy-two hours. Thatâs three days. Plenty of time to figure out how to tell my girlfriend I need to start dating other girls because of my fake inheritance requirements that are actually just a cover story for a magical phone app that turns romance into a spreadsheet.
Yeah. That conversationâs going to go great. Right up there with "honey, I used to be a different person but I got better" and "by the way, I may or may not have supernatural dance powers now."
Jordan closed his eyes and tried to will himself to sleep. The Systemâs stamina refresh had left him wide awake despite the late hour and the exhaustion that should have followed dinner with parents and everything that came after. His mind buzzed with too many thoughts, too many new variables to process all at once.
How does that even work anyway? Does the System just scan girls and calculate some kind of soulmate algorithm? Is it looking at personality traits or physical attraction or compatibility metrics I donât even know about?
The recommended candidates list had been interesting. Kumiko made sense, she was sweet and pretty and had already shown interest in him during their brief interactions. Alexis was obviously gorgeous but came with enough emotional baggage to fill a cargo plane. And Brooke was a complete mystery, the genius girl who barely spoke to anyone but somehow rated high enough for the System to notice.
The whole thing felt increasingly surreal. A month ago heâd been crying on his floor over Eliza, spending his days refreshing her social media and wondering why she never texted him back. Now he had a girlfriend who actually liked him, supernatural dance skills, and a phone app pressuring him to build a harem like he was the protagonist of some shitty light novel his old roommate used to read.
At least the harem thing is kind of hot in theory. In practice itâs just going to be a nightmare of scheduling conflicts and hurt feelings and trying to remember who likes what kind of coffee.
Chloeâs hand flexed against his chest, her fingers curling into a fist before relaxing again. Jordan wondered what she was dreaming about. Whether she saw him in her dreams the way he was starting to see her in his, or if her subconscious was still processing the evening with his parents and all the subtle family dynamics sheâd navigated so gracefully.
Sleep finally started creeping up on him despite the Systemâs artificial energy boost. His thoughts grew fuzzy and disconnected, drifting like clouds across his consciousness. The warmth of Chloeâs body against his, the steady rhythm of her breathing, the familiar weight of exhaustion settling into his bones.
The last thing Jordan remembered before sleep claimed him was Chloeâs voice, soft and drowsy in the darkness.
"Love you."
His heart stopped.
She was asleep. Definitely asleep. Her breathing hadnât changed, her body hadnât tensed, and her voice had that particular quality that came from talking without being fully conscious. Probably didnât even know sheâd said it, wouldnât remember in the morning.
But sheâd said it.
Jordanâs throat felt tight. His chest ached with something that wasnât quite pain but wasnât quite joy either. Something bigger and more complicated than either emotion could handle on its own.
Do I say it back? Does it count if sheâs unconscious? Is this the right time? Weâve only been dating for a week, thatâs way too fast by anyoneâs standards, but also I think I might actually mean it if I said it, which is terrifying in ways Iâm not ready to think about.
Chloeâs breathing stayed deep and even. Completely out, lost in whatever dream had prompted her sleepy confession.
Jordan chickened out and just held her tighter, burying his face in her hair and breathing in the scent of her shampoo and the lingering warmth from their shared shower earlier. The words sat heavy in his throat, unspoken but not unfelt.
Tomorrow. Iâll deal with all of it tomorrow. The System, the second slot, the confession, the dancing, all of it. Tonight I just want to hold my girlfriend and pretend like everything is normal.
He fell asleep to the scent of her shampoo and the warmth of her body pressed against his, and for the first time in months, he didnât dream about Eliza at all.