The whole world comes to a screeching halt as the man walks around the corner, takes one look at me and stops.
“Callum.” The word falls from my mouth.
And I stop breathing.
Noah sucks in a breath through his teeth and leans forward, falling into a stride out the door.
“Wait,” Callum stops him. “How long did you know about this?”
“Only about five minutes longer than you, brother.”
Callum shakes his head and closes the door, refusing to look at me.
Thoughts rush into my head and dots begin to collect left and right. He said he works in music. Co-owns a company.
But we never exchanged last names, which would explain why I had no idea. I mean shit, had the name Hardin been dropped, I would have known immediately and most likely ran out of there and caught the first redeye back to Charlotte.
What doesn’t make sense though is how he didn’t know. After all, he would have seen my resume and portfolio. Surely my face isn’t that forgettable.
“Well, this is perfect,” he lets out, running his hand through his hair.
Hair I remember from under the stage lights.
Hair that looked too neat on the stage, that I wanted to ruffle up when we were on the date.
Hair that loosened with the night air and tousled completely after we fucked each other speechless.
“Is it?” I ask.
For the first time he looks at me.
But not with the mischievous eyes I remember from just two nights ago.
These eyes are hard. Stony.
“I was being sarcastic.”
My heart begins to sink into my stomach and with it, all my hopes and dreams from just moments before crash to the floor.
Surely this is a nightmare.
Surely it’s not real and I’m going to wake up to the sound of my alarm any second now.
I knew the whole curling iron fire slash towel on the street incident was too wild to be true.
But I’m not waking up.
And Callum is very much standing in front of me.
This isn’t a nightmare. It’s real.
Chapter 9
Callum
“You were supposed to stay in Vegas,” Amanda says, and my frown deepens.
“I’m sorry?”
