With all the finesse I can muster, I plonk down into the armchair across from him and bring a pillow into my lap. I can blame the heat in my cheeks on the shower I just took, but I don’t want to explain why I have a semi from watching Callum scratch his sharp, stubbled jaw.
Yeah, I need to open that door so he can slam it shut for good.
“Did you have a good nap?” I ask.
He yawns, flopping back against the couch. “Kinda. I'm still super tired, so I might not be a lot of fun tonight.”
“No worries. We don’t have to do anything too wild.”
“Are you sure you don’t want to hang out with your friends instead?”
I’m about to shut that self-criticism down before I pause, unease stabbing into my stomach and making me sweat.
Does Callum think he’s not one of my friends?
Does Callum thinkI’mnot one ofhisfriends?
I swallow the lump in my throat. “Youareone of my friends, at least Ithinkso. Do you…not want to be?”
The familiar twist of rejection is already squeezing my chest, and keeping my breathing normal is proving to be a lot harder than it needs to be. If Callum says no, I don’t know how I’ll react.
His eyebrows shoot up. “I do. I want to be friends with you.”
Oh, thank fuck.Just like that, almost all the pressure in my body flies out in a heavy exhale. “Then what’s the problem? Let’s hang out tonight.”
“Yeah, let's do that.” He pinches the bridge of his nose between his hands. “Sorry for being weird. I hate, you know, imposing and stuff.”
I kinda got that, which is why I’m giving him as much privacy as I can manage. If he won’t ask for things, it’s on me to meet his needs however I can.
“Alright, no imposing tonight because I’ll give you whatever you need. Nick bought me some messed-up liquor the other day. It’s like 120-proof. Wanna try?”
Callum offers me a strained smile. “Sounds like a plan. Thanks for suggesting it.”
“Awesome. Let's get drunk.”
CHAPTER TWELVE
CALLUM
Apparently, I’m a tired drunk. That’s what Ian calls me, at least. We’re both sitting on the couch that’s my bed, and I’m hugging a pillow, trying to keep my eyes open.
“You’ve had four drinks, Cal. You can’t fall asleep on me,” he says, slinging an arm around my shoulder.
I break into a stupid smile. Cal. God, that nickname is so silly, but it’s affectionate. Ian calling me that adds to the warm feeling that’s sloshing around inside of me, and I don’t know where it came from or what to do with it.
It could be the alcohol.
Who am I kidding? No, it’s not. The alcohol is making me tired and smiley. Ian being nice and side-hugging me is making me fuzzy.
Wait, why is he being nice all of a sudden? He was avoiding me until a couple of hours ago.
“Bro, why do you think I’m avoiding you?” His voice cuts through my alcohol-fueled fog, and I jolt upright.
“Shit, did I say that out loud?”
“Yeah, you did. And I’m not avoiding you.”
“But…the schedule, and the knocking, and the texting that you’re coming back?”
