Infinite Cashback System

Jordan stepped into Chloe’s apartment for the third time in twenty-four hours. The space looked exactly the same as before. Clean. Organized. The kind of apartment that belonged in an IKEA catalog.

Chloe headed straight for the kitchen. "Make yourself comfortable. I’ll get the popcorn going."

Jordan walked to the grey sectional and sat down on the end cushion. The couch was softer than it looked. He pulled out his phone and opened the System interface.

The screen glowed with its familiar golden light.

💝 TRANSACTION COMPLETE ✨

Purchase: Walgreens snacks

Amount: $14.73

Girl: Chloe Kim

Attraction: 20% → 28% (+8%)

Rebate: $8.23 (0.56x rate)

Net: -$6.50

Notes: Small gestures count. She offered to pay. You declined without making it weird. Progress.

Jordan stared at the numbers.

Eight percent.

That was a massive jump for buying fifteen dollars worth of candy and popcorn. Yesterday at The Ivy, he’d spent seventy-three dollars and only gained four percent. Today he spent a fifth of that and doubled the return.

The math didn’t track.

Unless.

Jordan’s thumb hovered over the notification. Unless the System wasn’t just tracking money spent. It was tracking something else. Context maybe. Effort. Timing.

He’d paid for lunch yesterday because that was the transaction. The coffee date package. The whole point of the meeting. Chloe expected him to pay because he’d already paid three thousand dollars for her time.

But tonight was different. She invited him over. No money changed hands. No expectations. Just neighbors hanging out.

And when he offered to cover the snacks without hesitation or performance, without making a big deal about it, the System registered that as genuine.

Interesting.

Jordan locked his phone and slipped it into his pocket. His daily quest notification sat unread. Two out of three beauties contacted. He’d talked to Chloe for way more than two minutes at this point. That should count.

But he’d check later.

The microwave hummed in the kitchen. Kernels started popping in rapid succession. The smell of butter filled the apartment.

Chloe stood at the counter watching the bag expand inside the microwave. Her back was to him. The white crop top rode up slightly when she reached for the cabinet above.

Jordan looked away. Focused on the fake fiddle-leaf fig in the corner instead.

His chest felt lighter than it had three hours ago. The rage that sent him through an entire deck of cards had dulled to something manageable. Still there. Still present. But not consuming.

Talking to Chloe helped.

He didn’t know why. She was a girl he paid money to see half-naked on the internet. A girl who slammed doors in his face and demanded he pretend she didn’t exist.

But she’d also defended him in front of Alexis without hesitation. Called out the cruelty. Refused to let them laugh.

That counted for something.

The microwave beeped.

"Give me like two seconds," Chloe called from the kitchen.

"Take your time."

Jordan heard the microwave door open. The rustle of the bag. Then footsteps heading upstairs to the loft.

He pulled out his phone again and scrolled through the notifications he’d been ignoring. Three texts from Leo apologizing and asking if Jordan was okay. Two from Kyle asking where he went. One from his mom asking how his first day back at classes went.

Jordan typed a quick response to his mom. Classes were good. Met up with Kyle at the gym. Everything’s fine.

He didn’t text Leo back.

More footsteps from upstairs. A door closing. The sound of fabric rustling.

Jordan looked for Instagram out of habit before remembering he’d deleted it two weeks ago. He stared at the empty space where the app used to be on his home screen.

Good.

Nothing productive lived there anyway.

Footsteps descended the stairs. Jordan looked up.

His brain stopped working.

Chloe walked down carrying a large wooden bowl filled with popcorn in one hand and a thick grey blanket draped over her other arm. But that wasn’t what short-circuited every neuron in Jordan’s head.

She’d changed clothes.

White short shorts. The kind that ended high on her thighs and left almost nothing to the imagination. A black Adidas shirt that was somehow both oversized and fitted at the same time. And black thigh-high socks that climbed up her legs and stopped just before those shorts.

The blue streak in her hair caught the light from the kitchen as she moved.

Jordan forgot how to breathe.

"I changed into something more comfortable," Chloe said as she reached the bottom of the stairs. "Hope that’s okay."

Comfortable.

Sure.

That was definitely the word for whatever the hell this outfit was.

Jordan’s mouth was dry. His hands gripped the edge of the couch cushion.

Chloe walked over and set the bowl of popcorn on the coffee table. Then she draped the blanket across the back of the couch and sat down on the opposite end. About three feet of space separated them.

Three feet that suddenly felt like three inches.

"Did you decide on a movie yet?" Chloe grabbed a handful of popcorn and looked at him expectantly.

Jordan’s brain rebooted. Slowly.

"Uh. No. Not yet."

"Well we should probably pick something." She gestured at the TV mounted on the wall. "Remote’s on the table."

Jordan reached forward and grabbed the black remote. His hand was steadier than he expected. He turned on the TV and the Netflix home screen appeared.

"I have an idea," he said.

"Yeah?"

"Give me the remote and I’ll close my eyes. Then I’ll just move around randomly until you tell me to stop."

Chloe’s expression shifted. Amused. "That’s the dumbest way to pick a movie I’ve ever heard."

"You got a better idea?"

"We could just, you know, scroll through and pick something like normal people."

"Where’s the fun in that?"

Chloe laughed. The sound was light and genuine. "Okay fine. Do your random selection process."

Jordan held up the remote and closed his eyes. He started pressing buttons. Up. Left. Right. Down. Right again. Up. Left.

He had no idea where the cursor was landing. Could be a documentary about penguins. Could be some foreign art film with subtitles. Could be anything.

"Keep going," Chloe said.

Jordan pressed right three more times. Then down. Then left.

"Almost."

He went up twice.

"Okay stop."

Jordan opened his eyes.

The cursor hovered over a movie poster showing a woman’s face half-hidden in shadow. Bold red letters spelled out the title.

The Midnight Caller.

The description underneath read: "A college student receives mysterious phone calls that predict her friends’ deaths. As the bodies pile up, she realizes the killer is closer than she thinks."

Horror.

Of course.

"Oh hell no," Chloe said immediately. "Pick again."

"The system has spoken."

"The system is stupid. I’m not watching a horror movie."

Jordan turned to look at her. "You scared?"

"I’m not scared. I just don’t like them."

"That’s literally what scared people say."

Chloe’s face flushed pink. "I’m not scared of horror movies. They’re just stressful and I don’t need that kind of anxiety before bed."

"So you’re scared."

"I’m practical."

"Scared."

"Jordan."

He grinned. "We’re watching it."

"We are not."

"The random selection gods have decided. Who are we to argue with fate?"

Chloe grabbed a piece of popcorn and threw it at him. It bounced off his shoulder. "I’m vetoing this decision."

"No veto power. Those are the rules."

"What rules? You made up this game thirty seconds ago."

"And the rules are sacred."

Chloe groaned and pulled her knees up to her chest. The movement made the thigh-highs shift slightly. Jordan forced himself to look at the TV screen instead.

"Fine," she said. "But if I have nightmares tonight it’s your fault."

"Deal."

Jordan hit play.

The Netflix logo appeared. Then the production company credits. Then the screen went black before fading into the opening shot of a college campus at night.

Ominous music played through the speakers.

Chloe scooted closer to the middle of the couch. Not quite next to Jordan but definitely closer than before. She pulled the grey blanket down from the back of the couch and draped it over her legs.

"Can we at least turn on a lamp or something?" she asked.

"That defeats the purpose."

"What purpose?"

"Maximum atmosphere."

"I hate you."

"You invited me over."

"Biggest mistake of my life."