by S. M. Soto
Tentatively, I rest my hand on his chest.
“Tell me, please.”
Something flits across his gaze. It’s brief, but it’s enough for me to hang on to like a lifeline. “Because I can’t get you out of my fucking head.”
His mouth swoops down, taking my lips in a fierce kiss that takes my breath away. My hands fist the material of his shirt. They trail up, over the hard pecs, and slide around his neck. My fingers tangle in the soft hair at his nape. Callan’s lips smooth over mine, working them. I feel the kiss all the way down to my toes. It travels through my body like a storm, in angry waves. I gasp into his mouth when I feel his arms slide around my backside, and he lifts me into his arms. It feels like I’ve done this with him a million times. It feels so natural.
It feels like us.
Like home.
My back collides with the soft sheets of his bed, and I relish in it. I relish in his kiss and the feel of his hot skin against mine. The sensation of his kisses traveling down my neck and throat. This is different. It feels different. This is more. More of everything.
This is exactly what I’ve been holding out for.
It suddenly hits me then that I don’t have this with Dean. I was afraid with Dean because I didn’t truly want this, not with him. But with Callan…I do.
I fall into the kiss with Callan. I’m positive I even fall more helplessly in love with him. Because that’s exactly how I feel when it comes to Callan. I should hate him. Loathe him, but I find I love him more. I love him despite all his faults. I love him even though I should be in love with someone else.
When he drags his mouth down my body and pauses near my jeans, his warm lips hovering just below my belly button, we both freeze. He looks up at me with those eyes. His eyes like the ocean have a question there. He needs to know I want this. After what happened with Dean, he needs to know this is okay.
“Don’t stop. Please.”
What sounds like a growl rumbles in his throat as he unbuttons my jeans. His gaze sets me on fire, scorching a blazing path across my flesh. He slowly drags my jeans down with my underwear, baring my sex. A shudder of anticipation courses down my spine. When his mouth hits my center, my eyes roll into the back of my head, and Christ, it feels perfect.His tongue swirls around the bundle of nerves. He starts off painfully slow, building me up until I’m clutching at him and his bedsheets. My hips twist off the mattress, seeking more.
“Callan,” I moan as his tongue licks at me, fluttering over my folds. I feel something building inside me, tightening with each lick and suck. My chest is rising and falling sharply, my nails digging into his skin.
“Christ, Daisy,” he breathes out, licking at me like a man starved, like this is the last time he’ll ever have a taste. My heart clenches at the thought alone. “You’re fucking perfect,” he breathes against my sex, and it’s enough to send me over the edge. My thighs clasp around his face as my orgasm barrels into me, stealing the breath from my lungs. An explosion of colorful fireworks burst behind my eyelids, and I go limp on the bed.
My chest heaves, working to accommodate my heavy breathing. I feel Callan climb up my body, resting on the bed next to me. When I feel him cover my lower half with a blanket, my eyes flutter open, meeting his gaze.
He stares down at me, his face softer than it usually is, but otherwise void of any expression. His eyes, which are normally like a storm, are calm for once. It puts me at ease, so much so, a slow grin spreads across my face. A crease forms between his brows.
“What?” he asks.
I lift my shoulder noncommittally and shift my body toward his. “Nothing. It’s just… I’ve missed you.”
Callan’s eyes heat at my words, and he catches me off guard when he dips his head, stealing a kiss.
I lie in bed with Callan for a while longer, my head resting on his chest, both of us staring blankly away. Silence cloaks us as we think—me about the consequences of what all this means, and likely him, what this means for his future.
I’m still trying to wrap my head around what just happened and how I feel about it. Just like last time, I feel like this has changed things, but I just don’t know if it’s for better or worse. Last time it was for the worst, so I can only hope that this time will be different.
I don’t see how that will happen, though, especially seeing as he’s leaving for college in New York soon.
“I should get going. My parents are probably wondering where I am.”
Callan lets out a deep sigh and helps me into a sitting position. We sit there, searching each other’s gazes before he nods.
“I’ll walk you home.”
A smile curls the corners of my lips. “I live next door, Cal.”
His grin is slow as it spreads across his face. “C’mon.”
After I get dressed and fix myself up, Callan walks me home. We both pause on my front doorstep, a tense silence hanging between us. There’s so much I want to say to him about tonight, about the way I feel, but the words aren’t coming. So many emotions are slamming into me all at once, some shouting louder than the next, dying to be heard.
My heart jumps into my throat when Callan reaches out, resting his warm hand on the side of my neck. “You deserve more than anyone in this shit town can give you, Daisy. Don’t ever forget it.”
I try to smile, but it comes out shaky instead. Somehow, we get closer, only a breath of space between us. “What happens now?” I whisper, searching his eyes, getting lost in the gray there.
I wait patiently for him to answer, but instead, his hand slides all the way around my neck, and he tugs me into him. He kisses me then. His lips are soft and firm in their intent. A sigh escapes my lips, and he inhales it like it’s much-needed oxygen. He devours me, guiding my head where he wants me, frantic with his touch, as though he thinks I’m going to disappear any second. I fall into the kiss; I fall into him.
Slowly, we pull back, and he rests his forehead against mine. Pain glimmers there in his eyes, and it breaks my heart, seeing it there at all. I want to ask him what’s wrong. I want to demand he answer my questions.
I force a thick swallow, suddenly feeling emotional. “See you tomorrow?” It comes off as more of a question.
Something flashes in his eyes, and I wish I would’ve paid closer attention, demanded more, but I let it pass with that.
“Good night, Daisy,” he says, his lips pressed against my forehead.
“Good night, Callan.”
I expect him to kiss me again, but he turns on his heels and heads home. Just as he always does.
I adjust my backpack’s strap over my shoulder and pause when I feel a strong grip enclose around my wrist.
“Callan Reed, are you fucking kidding me?”
My back collides with the locker behind me, and my heart jumps into my throat at the angered expression written all over Dean’s face.
“W-what are you talking about?”
“Playing dumb now? You know exactly what I’m talking about, Daisy,” he grits, getting in my face. “I never took you for the type.”
I reel back at his words. My heart is thudding recklessly in my chest, and a sick feeling enters my gut. “I… What are you…”
Dean crowds me into the locker, his rage washing over me. “She told me about last night. Where you went after we fought. What you guys did.”
My breath catches in the back of my throat and I feel the color drain from my face.
I know exactly what he’s referring to—how could I not? But how could he possibly know? I haven’t even had a chance to tell Rosalind. Who else would’ve known—
Realization strikes.
Last night on my doorstep when Callan and I kissed. That’s the only explanation. Fear floods my veins, and I wonder idly if he knows about anything else. I don’t have to think about it long. The answer comes to me in the form of her laughter. My eyes are drawn to the source, and I feel my heart shrivel in my chest. It shatters into a million pieces. My chest caves with pain as though
a wrecking ball has slammed into me, knocking the air out of me.
Walking down the hall are Callan and Skylar. But that’s not what’s causing the pain in my chest. It’s the fact that she has her arm wrapped snuggly around his waist. They look like a couple, and it makes me sick. I feel like I am going to be psychically ill. I place a trembling hand to my stomach to quell the sudden bout of nausea.
My eyes collide with Callan’s, and I feel the entire world crumble around me. His face is blank, but I swear I see a hint of pain in his eyes as if what he’s doing hurts him, too. I plead with him to step away from her and prove me wrong. He doesn’t.
His gaze darts back and forth between Dean and me. A frown mars his features for only a few seconds as he takes in our stance before he glances away like I’m nothing to him. Like what happened between us last night meant nothing to him.
Tears blur my vision, and when I look back at Dean, he’s still glaring down at me, waiting for me to answer him. Anger is permeating off him, percolating in the air between us. It’s frightening. I’ve never seen him like this.
“Skylar?”
His nostrils flare. “She saw you two last night.” I glance away for only a second, trying to stifle the urge to cry. “We had one fight, Daisy. One fight, and you run to him? How am I supposed to trust you?”
“It…it’s complicated. I was upset and looking for Rose, but Callan was there, and it just happened. I’m sorry, okay?”
“You’re sorry?” He scoffs. “Sorry doesn’t change the fact that you kissed someone else.”
A tear slips down my cheek, guilt suffocating me. “Whenever I’m around him, it messes with my head. I can’t think straight.”
“Was it worth it, Daisy?” His temper has faded, and in its place is sadness and disappointment. Somehow, I prefer his anger over this.
He stands there, waiting for me to tell him no, but it never comes. With a frustrated sigh, he pushes away from the lockers, from me, and stalks off.
Dean’s words echo around me long after he’s gone.
Was it worth it?
I don’t know anymore.
I feel like I woke up in an alternate universe. One where everything that could have gone wrong did just that.
As I’m leaving fifth period and heading to lunch, I hear a bunch of commotion. Everyone is running down the halls toward the source. There are cheers, and students chanting, “Fight, fight, fight.” It’s absolute chaos.
Something worrisome builds in my gut, and I follow the noise. When I push through the crowd and spot the two forms, my eyes water, and my worst nightmare comes true. On the verge of exchanging blows with each other are Callan and Dean. Two football players are holding each of them back from each other. They’re shouting at one another, both of them trying to break free from the restraining holds. I feel someone step beside me, and when I look, it’s Rosalind with shock written all over her face.
“I guess this was bound to happen at some point, right?”
I shake my head, a tear dripping down my cheek. “They’re fighting because of me.”
Her brows tug down in confusion. “What do you mean?”
“This is all my fault, Rose. I did this.”
She frowns, still not following, and drags me into the nearest bathroom. As soon as the door slams shut, I fall apart in her arms, telling her everything. I come clean about how I’ve been feeling, the lies I’ve been feeding myself. She gives me the look. The one that says she clearly knew all of this already.
“You’re my best friend, Daisy. Did you really think I didn’t know all of this? I’ve been waiting for you to tell me how you feel, even though I already knew. Want to know what hurts the most? You kissed my brother, and you didn’t tell me.”
My chin quivers with emotion. “I know, and I’m so sorry. I should’ve called you after it happened, but I just…I wanted this one thing. I wanted to savor it for as long as I could before it blew up in my face.”
Sympathy crosses her face. “Seeing as my brother and your boyfriend are out there fighting, I’m guessing it didn’t go over well?”
“He’s pushing me away, Rose. I know he is. He’s scared of this thing between us because he’s leaving. He walked down the hallway with Skylar because he knew it would hurt me.”
“He’s an idiot, and Skylar is a bitch, but you knew this already. I promise you, Daisy, I know my brother, and I know he would never do anything with Skylar. Deep down, he cares about you. He’s just too much of an asshole to show it.”
If only that were true. I was beginning to think Rosalind didn’t know her brother at all.
With the pressure of the day weighing heavily on my chest, I head up to the levy. I don’t know why I’m choosing to come here of all places, but I just need a moment to gather my thoughts. I guess that’s too much to ask for, though, because Callan is already sitting there.
I should turn around. I should leave quietly and pretend I was never here, but I don’t do that.
“You have some nerve.”
Callan turns at the sound of my voice, his face a blank mask. He heaves a tired sigh, giving me the cold shoulder. “Go home, Daisy.”
That anger I’ve been suppressing is suddenly a spark of electricity in my chest. It feels as though he’s tapped into it.
“No,” I snap, stomping toward him. “I’m not going anywhere until you talk to me. You kissed me, Callan. You kissed me! You drew those pictures of me. You initiated everything between us, not the other way around. Why are you…why are you being like this? Why are you pushing me away?” I try to keep the pain out of my voice, but it’s no use. It bleeds from my tone.
Slowly, he glances up at me, and I flinch back at the ire there in his eyes. “You’re right, I did kiss you. And it was a mistake.”
An icy sensation wraps around my heart and squeezes painfully. “And the pictures. What’s your excuse for them? Because I know that’s what this is. It’s an excuse.”
His nostrils flare. “They’re just pictures. You were there. I drew you. Stop reading into every little fucking thing that happens between us.”
I square my shoulders, not letting him see how much he’s hurting me. “And Skylar?”
He smirks. It’s a knife to the heart. “She’s a lot better than you.”
My breath catches.
Bile rises to my throat.
“You’re a liar. A disgusting pig.” I spin on my heels, pausing to glance over my shoulder. I meet this gaze, letting him see all the pain. “I can’t wait for you to leave.” His blank mask slips and his eyes flash. My chin quivers at my next words. “I hope you never come back.”
With hate in my heart, I stalk away, trying not to focus on the pain. Instead, I’m holding on to the anger. That’s all I have left.
Present
“Mrs. Fletcher.” Callan’s sharp tone is like nails on a chalkboard.
With a slow turn, I plaster on a welcoming smile, even when it’s the last thing I feel like doing. If this were a different world, I’d be able to give him the finger, call it a day, and come back to work the next day with no issues.
Alas, I do not have that luxury.
“Yes?”
“Are you forgetting something? I have a lunch meeting with clients. Have you gotten the conference room set up for us?”
Have I forgotten something? Oh, I don’t know, the urge to punch you in your dick, maybe.
My hands curl into fists of their own accord. I was just on my way to do all that, but of course, he thinks I’m incompetent. He has this incessant need to micromanage and make sure I’m one hundred and ten percent ahead of schedule. It drives me absolutely nuts.
“I was on my way to get started just now. Is there anything else you need from me?”
Something in his eyes glints. “It’d be nice if you can stay on top of your job. This is an important meeting. Get your shit together and act as though you belong here as my assistant.”
My gaze narrows. The darts shooting from my eyes are so at o
dds with the sticky-sweet smile I’m sending his way. “Will do.”
With a tray of bottled waters and catered food laid out for Callan’s next meeting in the conference room, I try to gather my wits. I’m frustrated and annoyed. I don’t think a single day has gone by where this man hasn’t pulled almost every single emotion out of me. He told me this was an important meeting and that I needed to act accordingly. As if he thinks I’m a continual fuckup. If that’s the case, why keep me here at all? Why not get rid of me?
I get it, I don’t fit in his world, but that doesn’t mean he has to disrespect me at every turn. I know Rosalind begged him to hire me, but I’m holding on to wishful thinking that one day, he’ll actually appreciate my existence here.
Once his clients begin to arrive, I hang back, greeting the older group of men who walk in. I don’t miss the way their leery eyes trail up and down my body.
Ugh. Typical men.
When Callan finally enters the room, all the air is sucked from my lungs. How does he do it? How does he walk around, looking so effortlessly casual? How does he command a room with such finesse? How does he still make my heart pound stupidly in my chest for him? Even with his cold glares and that damned glacial shoulder.
He glances around the room as if he’s looking for something. Our gazes lock, and my breath catches. It’s only for a few seconds, but it still renders me breathless, nonetheless. He’s the first to break contact, glancing away to greet the others. They all take their seats, already discussing potential properties and the next steps in the process of procuring them. A process I am still having a hard time getting used to.
“Mrs. Fletcher, please see yourself out. I’ll let you know if we need anything.”
Someone snickers, like an absolute child, and heat rises to my cheeks in embarrassment. I offer a smile to the men before slipping out.
“Asshole,” I mumble under my breath as I stride down the hall toward the elevator banks.
