I looked up to his face, studying him closely. The walls I’d so carefully built around my heart felt like they were crumbling once again, and for the first time, it felt like that was okay. “Yeah,” I said softly. “It’s more than okay.”
I picked up a slice of bacon, then looked over the rest of the spread. There was no way the two of us could finish even half of it. It looked like a full hotel buffet.
“We won’t be able to eat all this,” I said.
He glanced at the food, then back at me. “The rest won’t go to waste. The cleaning staff can eat whatever we don’t touch,” he said. “They’re here all morning. They’ll clear everything anyway. They might as well get a real breakfast.”
Good. I would’ve suggested that if he thought throwing it all away was a better idea.
“That’s nice of you.”
He shrugged like it wasn’t a big deal. “They work hard. They should eat.”
I agreed, and it showed once again that he cared about others.
30
Lana
Two weeks later, everything seemed to have settled into this unspoken rhythm between Callan and me. We fell into a pattern of stolen moments and late-night talks, and we seemed to only exist within the walls of this house. It was terrifying and exciting at the same time, because every time I was away from him, I wondered what we had slipped into.
I had no explanation for it. I felt too much, yet tried not to feel anything at all, knowing there could be many different outcomes that could leave me hurting. For now, I was enjoying the time with him, trying not to read too much into it. And I was sure he was doing the same.
I got my essay back from Professor Hayes this afternoon. The grade at the top was the highest I could’ve received, and while it was enough to prove that I had done a good job with this essay, it was the comment scrawled beneath it in his red ink that made my heart pound.
Exceptionally powerful work. The raw honesty of your perspective is compelling.
After class, Hayes kept me back. He asked a dozen questions about the set, the logistics, and the atmosphere. It wasclear he was fascinated by it all, especially the behind-the-scenes mechanics of an industry he’d never dipped his toes in himself. I answered what I could, but I had only been an observer. Okay, that was only half-true. But I couldn’t tell my professor the truth about fluffing up my stepdad for his scenes.
When his question became too detailed, I had to stop the questioning. “There’s really only one person who can give you the insight you’re looking for,” I finally said, fishing a pen out of my bag. I scribbled Callan’s email on the corner of my notebook, then ripped it out to hand it to him. “I’m sure he will answer your questions.”
Professor Hayes looked at the email address as if it were a priceless artifact. “Thank you, Lana.”
It was amusing to say the least. I never imagined him being this intrigued, but I was glad my essay touched him in a way.
When I got home that afternoon, I was determined to make myself a sweet snack and head upstairs to watch a movie, but when I walked into the house, I found Callan on the couch, and my plan changed. He was sitting there, leaning back and looking completely at ease. Beside him, looking just as comfortable, was Rocco. They were laughing about something, and for a moment, I considered just slipping to the kitchen, not wanting to intrude on their space, but Callan’s eyes found mine instantly.
“Lana,” he said, his smile warm. He patted the empty cushion next to him. “Come here.”
I dropped my tote bag and jacket on the bottom step of the stairs and walked over to sit down. I left a few inches of space between us, unsure where he truly wanted me. My eyes darted to Rocco, who was watching me with an amused, knowing smirk. “Holland says hi,” I offered, letting him know that Holland and I had been talking today.
His smirk widened into a full-blown grin. “Hi back,” he said, his voice charming as ever. I had no idea what their status was, but from the easy energy between them, I guessed they were just…having fun.
“How was your day?” Callan asked, his attention shifting from Rocco to me.
“Good,” I smiled, the tension in my shoulders easing. “Hayes loved the essay.”
“That’s great. I’m proud of you.” As he said it, he reached out and placed his hand on my thigh, his fingers wrapping around it and giving it a gentle, almost possessive squeeze.
“Thanks,” I managed. “He, uh…wants to ask you questions. I gave him your email, if that’s okay.”
“Sure.” He seemed unfazed by it. “Not a problem.”
Just then, Rocco’s phone buzzed on the coffee table. He glanced at it, and a smile spread across his face. “Well, duty calls,” he said, standing up and stretching. “Looks like someone’s missing me.” He shot me a wink.
And with a clap on Callan’s shoulder, he was gone.
The moment the front door clicked shut, the atmosphere shifted. Callan’s hand tightened on my thigh. He didn’t say a word, just tugged me toward him. I didn’t resist. I let him pull me across the empty space until I was straddling his lap, my knees sinking into the couch on either side of his hips.
