I didn’t push. “All right.”
She turned and walked the rest of the way upstairs. The sound of her door closing echoed faintly, and I stood there for a moment with many different things rushing through my head.
I told myself I’d convinced her because I cared about her work.
But the truth was simpler.
I couldn’t stand the thought of her walking away from me.
13
Lana
I tried not to think too much about what happened between Callan and me the night before, because every time I did, I felt that same, stupid heat crawl up my neck. I hated how much I had liked touching him. I hated that my body reacted before my brain could stop it. It wasn’t like me to be so…touchy? No, that wasn’t the right word. Open, maybe. Vulnerable was even more fitting. I didn’t even recognize myself when I thought about the way I let him guide my hand like that, or how my pulse jumped when he spoke to me in that low voice.
It wasn’t just physical, either. There was something about the way he looked at me. Steady and controlled, but with a kind of frustration that made it hard to breathe. I shouldn’t have liked that. I shouldn’t have liked any of it. But I did. I enjoyed his touch, and I liked the fact that it was me who made him so hard. The thought alone was enough to make my stomach twist with guilt. What the hell was wrong with me?
That’s why I was glad Holland came over tonight. She was loud, opinionated, and full of useless gossip. Exactly what I needed to drown out my own thoughts. She had been dying to know what happened after our FaceTime call two nights ago, so I told her most of it. I left out the part about me touching Callan’scock. She would’ve immediately demanded every single detail, and I wasn’t ready to have that conversation. Still, she knew about me almost giving up on the essay, and how somehow, Callan had convinced me to keep going.
“So he just talked you into continuing it?” she asked when I told her.
“Basically.”
“And, help me understand here, were you happy about that or not?”
I shrugged. “I’m not sure. I guess it’s better than not having a topic to write about.”
“Or…you were just too excited about everything that you just couldn’t actually walk away from it all. I bet he was playing dirty mind games to win you over.”
I rolled my eyes. “It wasn’t like that.”
“Right,” she said, dragging out the word in that sarcastic way only Holland could. “You’ve always been a terrible liar, Lana.”
I ignored her and went back to slicing a cucumber. We were making snacks to take upstairs. Just some cut-up vegetables and hummus, nothing fancy.
“I swear, my dad’s new girlfriend is like twenty-two,” she said while cutting up another carrot. “She sat there pretending to be so interested in his talk about golf, and I wanted to scream. I mean, she clearly hated golf, so why would you want to talk about it for two hours?”
“You should’ve left,” I said, shaking my head. “If your dad didn’t even appreciate you being there, why did you stay?”
“Because of the food.” She straightened and gave me an unapologetic shrug. “It was the best steak I’ve ever had. So tender and juicy, and that sauce? Oh my god, the butter one with that, like, herby thing in it. Unreal.”
I couldn’t help laughing. “You’re making me want to throw away this hummus and go eat there myself.”
“Don’t be ridiculous. You don’t have that kind of money.”
“Fair enough.” I smiled. “Maybe your dad will invite me next time. I’d sit through two hours of golf talk for a steak like that.”
“I’ll tell him,” she said, grinning.
We kept chopping vegetables, arguing over whether the popcorn should be salty or sweet, and deciding what movies we were going to watch all night long.
The sound of footsteps came from the hallway, and I didn’t even have to turn around to know who it was. I had lived here long enough to know who was entering a room, even with all these random people hanging around here. My hands stilled on the cutting board, the knife hovering above the half-cut cucumber. Holland noticed my pause just as Callan walked into the kitchen.
I glanced over my shoulder, and I noticed that I had done it without wanting to. I hated the effect he suddenly had on me and wished my heart didn’t always pump harder at the sight of him.
He was barefoot, wearing a white T-shirt and gray sweatpants that hung low on his hips. His hair was slightly damp, and he looked relaxed. I had seen a few girls running around earlier, and I also got a glimpse of Rocco hanging out with Karlee on the couch just before Holland came, but I hadn’t seen him. He must’ve been busy. Probably filmed a few things for the movie they were currently shooting.
“Hey,” he said, giving us both a nod, but keeping his eyes on me.
