Indignation flooded me. “You have my mail?”
“Aye. It was an accident.”
“You could have posted it through my letter box.”
“I forgot.”
“Of course you did. It didn’t involve anything to do with you, so why would you remember?”
“Jesus.” He cut me a dark look over his shoulder. “I’m sorry you didn’t get your junk mail in time.”
That was so typical of him to assume my post didn’t mean anything. “It’s actually really important mail.”
“Then come and get it.”
“I’m late for a meeting with a client. Please just post it through my letter box.”
Callan stopped and turned at the top of the landing. “Once I go into my flat today, I’m not coming out. So if you want your mail, come and get your mail.”
It was on the tip of my tongue to tell him to post it through my letter box tomorrow, but he’d probably forget to do that too!
With an exasperated glance at my phone to check the time, I huffed and climbed the stairs again. “Let’s be quick about it, then.”
“Are you always in a hurry?” Callan asked as I reached him. I gestured for him to move along. He smirked. “I’ll take that as a yes. Your dates must love you.”
It took me a second to understand his meaning. I retorted, “Unlike some people, I’ve had no complaints in that department.”
“I was tired,” he gritted out between his teeth.
Pleasure curled through me. It really was quite sadistic how much I enjoyed annoying him.
“At least I date. I’ve never seen you with a bloke.”
“Maybe I like women. Or maybe I’m asexual.”
“You didn’t seem asexual when we were in high school. With me. Or Ryan Preston.”
Surprise shot through me. When I’d stopped talking to Callan in high school, I hadn’t really realized until the moment he recognized me on our stairwell that my defection had affected him. I’d thought I’d cared more, to be honest. So it was shocking to realize he hated me enough to care that I’d abandoned whatever had been between us, and even more surprising he remembered I’d dated Ryan Preston.
“If anyone could make a girl asexual, it was Ryan Preston.” I shuddered. The prick had tried to coerce me into sex, I’d punched him in the junk, broken up with him, and the next day at school, he told everyone we’d slept together.
“You didn’t use to think so.”
“Ryan Preston was a lying prick.”
Callan shot me a look, frowning. “What does that mean?”
“Nothing.” I shooed him forward.
“So … you’re not into fellas?”
“You know I am.” I rolled my eyes, thankful we’d reached his landing. His apartment was the only one up here. “Also, I date. I have a date on Monday, actually. He’s a computer scientist.”
“How exciting,” he replied dryly as he let me into the penthouse. “Is he going to titillate you with his hardware?”
“Nice use oftitillate. And that was kind of funny. Well done.”
“You’re so patronizing.”
