I exhaled slowly, trying to keep my hands from fidgeting in my lap. “She was rude?” I asked softly, though I already knew the answer.
Callan’s jaw tightened slightly. “Rude is one word for it. She said some cruel things. About both of us.” His eyes met mine. “I wasn’t going to tell you she called, but I wanted you to know in case she contacts you and hurls insults your way.”
I felt a rush of heat. I was angry and embarrassed. My mother had always been a force of chaos, but hearing him say it aloud, seeing his expression harden at the thought of her words, made it feel more personal. “I’m used to it,” I said, keeping my voice calm. “I’m sorry she was rude to you.”
“It’s not your fault, Lana.” He ran a hand over his face and shook his head. “I’m sorry she treats you that way. I should’ve said something when she was still here.”
“Like I said…I’m used to it.”
“But you shouldn’t have to deal with that.” His expression hardened. “What she said was out of line, and I can only imagine what she says to you when no one else is listening.”
I sucked in my bottom lip and chewed on it, unable to hide that what he said was true. I shrugged and lowered my gaze to my hands. “It’s fine,” I said. “I’ve lived with it all my life, and I don’t sit around screaming or crying, hoping she’ll one day change.” I looked up at him again and smiled tightly. “She’s self-destructive and a narcissist, and there’s nothing I can do about it. I want to stay out of her way.”
Callan studied me for a moment longer. I could tell he wanted to say more, but decided against it. It was for the better. Talking about my mother only upset me. The silence grew between us, with only the low sound of the TV filling the space. When I glanced over at him, I saw the tension on his face. He wasn’t angry at me, but at the situation. And at Mom. It made me uneasy, knowing she made him feel this way, and having me still around when he easily could’ve gotten rid of me the second Mom left.
I cleared my throat, wanting to shift the weight of the conversation. “When’s the next filming day?” I asked.
I caught him off guard with that question. He looked at me and said, “Tomorrow afternoon. Around two.”
I nodded, keeping my eyes on him even though my pulse was hammering. “Okay,” I said quietly. “I’ll come to set again. If that’s fine with you.”
His body turned slightly. “You want to?” he asked.
“I mean…yes.” I tucked a strand of hair behind my ear, trying to sound casual. “I still need a few more notes for the essay, and I was hoping to ask Trey some questions about the camera setups. Just so I get the technical parts right.”
He leaned back, resting his arm along the back of the couch. “You can ask me about them too,” he said. There was a quiet challenge in his voice.
I hesitated, then nodded. “Okay. I’ll ask you then.”
He nodded and looked back at the TV again, letting another moment of silence settle between us before saying, “I’ll need you before I start shooting.”
I turned my head toward him, but he kept his eyes on the screen. I knew what he meant. My throat felt tight, but I nodded. “Okay.”
That finally made him look at me. His eyes danced with amusement. “Are you sure you still want to do it?” he asked.
“Yes.” My answer came quicker than I expected. I didn’t want to sound uncertain, even if part of me was.
He watched me closely, his gaze searching my face. “You were overwhelmed that night,” he said quietly. “When I made you come.”
The bluntness of it sent a jolt straight through me. My body reacted before my mind caught up, and my pulse jumped at the reminder of how he had made me feel. I swallowed hard and forced myself to meet his eyes. “It was my first orgasm,” Iadmitted. Not sure why I thought I had to let him know, but I had a feeling that he already knew, anyway.
His jaw clenched, and for a moment, he just stared at me. Then he nodded slowly, his lips pressing together. “Yeah, I could tell.”
I felt my cheeks grow warm, the heat creeping up to my ears in the most uncomfortable way. I looked down at my hands, tracing the edge of my thumb with my nail to distract myself. “Great,” I murmured.
“Lana.”
“Hm?”
He was watching me closely, elbows resting on his knees again as he leaned forward. His posture was relaxed but his eyes were sharp. “You don’t have to be ashamed,” he told me.
“I’m not,” I replied too quickly, a small frown forming as I looked away again. “I’m just tired.”
He didn’t look away, just kept staring. I could tell he wanted to continue the conversation about my very first climax, but he changed the subject instead. “Where were you tonight?”
I glanced up at him. “It was Holland’s birthday. She wanted to go out. So we went to this bar downtown.”
He tilted his head slightly, interested in finding out more. “That’s nice. Did you drink?”
