Page 50 of The Art of Drowning

“Get him to drink some water, if you can,” she said sleepily, patting my cheek after I took the supplies from her. “I’m going back to bed. Tell him that he’s grounded, will you?”

That made me smile. “I will. Good night.”

Sam wasn’t conscious enough to drink more than half a bottle of water. I left him in his clothes and rolled him onto his side. I put the water and the pills on the nightstand next to him, and the bucket on the floor in easy reach. I used his other pillow to shove behind him as a wedge to keep him from rolling over.

And then I crept out of the room and down the hall. I didn’t knock on Callum’s door. I opened it quietly and slipped inside. The room was dark, and I couldn’t tell if he was awake or asleep.

“I’m sorry,” I said, my throat closing up as it tried to strangle the emotion out of my voice. “I don’t blame you if you hate me. I just—I didn’t have a choice. I didn’t want to go, but Sam—” I took a deep breath and tried to steady myself. “What could I say? Sorry, I can’t hang out with you because I want to stay in and hump your brother?”

A muffled laugh broke Callum’s silence. “You’re the worst,” he said, but there was no heat in it. Just sadness.

“I know.” This thing between us was never going to work, but I wanted it to.

“How are you in here right now? What about Sam?” Callum asked.

My eyes slowly adjusted to the dim light, and I saw Callum shift around on his bed so he was sitting up, leaning against his headboard. My back was pressed against his bedroom door, like I had to keep the most distance possible or I’d snap myself against his body like two magnets coming together.

“Sam is wasted. I practically had to drag him upstairs. He’s sleeping it off.”

The silence was so thick, it was basically a third person in the room. A presence itself, all heavy and oppressive. Judgmental as fuck too. I tried not to squirm under the weight of it, but I felt like there was no good decision to be made.

Either I gave up Callum, and even the idea of that killed me. Or we continued to sneak around and hope that it didn’t end in disaster.

Callum hadn’t even come out as gay yet. He avoided the whole girlfriend issue by throwing himself into his schoolwork, but one day he might want a boyfriend. One he could go out with in public and hold hands with. Someone he could be seen with. Someone who wouldn’t hide him, who wouldn’t implode his life.

But when Callum patted the bed next to him, I went anyway. He didn’t even have to say anything. I was at his command. I sat next to him and looked down, watching the way he reached for my hand and tangled our fingers together.

“This is a bad idea,” he whispered.

“I know.” My heart thrashed in my chest. The house was silent except for the constant thud of my heart, which I was sure everyone could hear.

“But I want to do it anyway,” he admitted and a soft, relieved sort of laugh bubbled out of me.

“Me too.”

Callum leaned forward, and his other hand slid up my neck until he was holding the side of my face as he pulled me into a kiss. And then pulled back again. I could almost make out his facial expression, the wrinkle of his brow, the look of suspicion in his eyes.

“You taste like booze. How much did you drink?”

“Just a swallow here and there to keep people from annoying me. Good thing too, because I was able to get us out of there when shit started going too nuts.”

“So you’re not drunk? I wouldn’t be taking advantage of you.” Callum’s hand slid lower, trailing its way down my chest. It settled at my waist and he leaned in again. His lips brushed against mine once more, feathery soft, and I had to stop myself from moaning when his hand slid a little lower, skimming over the bulge in my pants.

“Can we?” Callum whispered.

It was a stupid move. Everyone was home. Everyone was sleeping. Any one of them could wake up and hear us. And yet I couldn’t say no. I lacked the willpower to turn him down.

“We can,” I whispered back, unable to refuse Callum.

TWENTY-FIVE

callum

NOW

I’d been unable to sleep when I gave in and texted Damien. I’d tossed and turned for hours thinking about him and everything that had happened in such a short amount of time.

After much deliberation, I gave in and sent him a text. My heart did a funny fluttery thing when he texted me back right away. It nearly stopped entirely when I realized he was right outside my house. Which was endearing, if not a little bit stalkerish.