“You already sound like an interior designer.”
My heart swells to bursting point. It’s the greatest compliment he could pay me. “Thank you, but I still have a long way to go. I’m so excited to go to college and to eventually have a career as an interior designer. It’s all I’ve wanted for years.”
“Hard work and determination mixed with talent are a winning combo. I bet you’re going to be very successful.”
“As you will be.”
He shrugs, and his Adam’s apple bobs in his throat as he glances around the room. “If I never see green again, I’ll die happy,” he deadpans.
He’s so dramatic, but it’s funny. “No green in the design. Got it.”
“My phone is burning a hole in my pocket. Let’s get this over with.” All humor is gone from his tone, replaced with obvious strain. He closes the bathroom door and walks to the room at the end of the hallway. “Don’t expect much,” he says over his shoulder before opening the door to his room.
“Wow, it looks like the 1970s threw up in here,” I say as I step foot on the brown shag carpet. Callan’s mom already mentioned she had everything steam cleaned before they moved in, but if it were me, I’d have ripped all the carpets out on day one. Let’s just say I’ll never be walking barefoot on this floor.
The king bed, matching nightstands, dresser, and desk are all modern—a mix of white and oak wood—but the rest of the room is nostalgia central. Thick orange curtains frame the window, which looks out onto the street. Geometric swirls in vibrant orange and gold mix are layered over the white wallpaper, making my head spin. “That wallpaper has got to go.”
“My thoughts exactly,” he says, kicking off his sneakers and crawling onto the bed. He pats the space beside him before grabbing the TV remote.
“Still unpacking, huh?” I say as I toe off my sandals and sit on the edge of the bed, keeping my feet away from the questionable carpet. Boxes are stacked against all the walls, making the room feel small and cluttered, even though the things on his desk are neat, his bed is made, and there are no dirty dishes, empty takeout cartons, or crumpled clothes on the floor like my last ex-boyfriend’s room.
“Don’t see why I should bother. It’s not like I’m staying here permanently.”
I swing my legs up onto the bed, smoothing my dress down over my thighs when it moves up with the motion. Callan’s gaze lingers on my legs for a second before he returns his focus to hisphone and the remote. “Graduation is June fourteenth. That’s over ten months away. It’s a long time to be tripping over boxes.”
“I just don’t see the point when I’ll have to repack it all.”
I drop the subject, not wanting to argue with him. It’s his bedroom. His life.
“Okay. Here we go,” he says as the screen loads on the TV with a still of a soccer field.
“This is the part where I need to admit I’ve only watched a handful of soccer games.”
“How come?” He straightens up against the headrest, and I mirror his position, being careful to ensure my dress doesn’t ride up my thighs as I maneuver myself.
“I’m not sporty, and my dad only ever watches golf on TV. I went to a few school games with Renee to support Thor, but I spent most of my time reading.”
“Shocking,” he says, pressing play on the video his friend sent him. “I’m not sure we can be friends.”
“You want to be friends?” I peer into his eyes, acutely aware of the fact we’re sitting close together on his bed. Yes, we’re fully clothed, and it’s not like anything is going to happen, but it still feels intimate.
“You don’t?” he asks as the game plays in the background.
“I do,” I rush to reassure him. “I mean, it makes sense, right? We go to school together, we’re neighbors, and it’s pretty clear after today our parents will be friends, as will our sisters. You’re new to town, and I can show you around, explain how things work in school, etcetera.” I quit my babbling at the amused look on his face. “Shutting up now.”
Callan laughs. “You’re cute when you’re flustered.”
I flip him the bird, and he cracks up, the bed shaking with his laughter. “Come on,bestie,” he says, flinging his arm around my shoulder. “Let’s watch the game so I can educate you.”
6
CALLAN
“Thanks, Astrid,” I say as I open the front door.
“For what?” She steps outside and turns to face me.
“For distracting me while watching the game.” She asked a ton of questions, and I got lost in explaining how things worked. It helped to keep me sane while watching my old team sail to an easy win as if I’d never existed.
