AllFreeNovel
Share Us
He nods, his smile encouraging. “And you’ll be great at it. Always had a thing for building stuff.”
I laugh because we both know it’s an understatement. Even as kids, I was the one making forts and tree houses, and Callum was right there beside me, handing over nails and the old pieces of wood we’d foraged for, trusting my vision.
The food arrives, and for a while, we’re lost in the taste of Joe’s special sauce and the crispy fries. It’s a reprieve from the weight of what’s unsaid—the lingering questions about us, about what might have been if life hadn’t pulled us in different orbits. If I hadn’t forced it to.
If I hadn’t chosen to distance myself because I was tired ... of looking at him, of sharing space with him, of spending time with him, and not actually beingwithhim.
After we eat, the question hangs in the air.What now?I’m not ready for the night to end, and by the tentative look in Callum’s eyes, neither is he.
“Do you ... would you want to come back to my place?” he asks, his voice painfully casual. “Roommates are out, and I’ve got the new season ofStrange Elementscued up.”
I consider it, the old fear of crossing lines we drew long ago surfacing. Going to his place isn’t like going home anymore. It’s stepping intohisworld, a world where I’m no longer a constant.
But this is still Callum, my Callum, who’s seen every hidden piece of me over the years. My worst, my best, all the shades in between.
“Sure,” I say, and his face lights up just like it used to.
His apartment is a testament to a college athlete’s life—trophies, soccer posters, and a couch that looks like it’s been used more for sleeping than sitting. Or maybe it’s been used for something else. Something that I can’t think about without my heart splintering in two.
But it’s clean, and it still feels like him.
We settle on the couch together. Callum cues up the show, and as the familiar theme music fills the room, a sense of rightness blankets over me. We’re just two old friends, sharing a night in.
But as the first episode plays out before us, the atmosphere shifts. It’s subtle, charged with an energy I remember but haven’t felt in years.
Callum’s arm, once casually resting behind me, now comes to drape around my shoulders, pulling me into the curve of his body. I lean in, the action as natural as breathing, and rest against him, my head finding that perfect spot just below his collarbone.
I always liked to sit right here, pressed against his chest. In the place where I could feel his heart beating against me. I know it seems romantic, a little obsessive even, but it’s just how we were then.
The show fades into background noise as we start talking, really talking. We share stories of college life, of late-night study sessions and the parties I’ve never been to. I tell him about the architectural models I’ve painstakingly built, each one a small victory.
“That’s amazing, Li. I always knew you’d do great things,” Callum says, his voice low and sincere.
“Thanks,” I say, soaking up his praise. “And you, you still living the dream?”
He chuckles, the sound rumbling through his chest. Muscles. Body heat. Strength and familiar comfort—it hits me all at once. “Something like that. But it’s not exactly what I imagined back when we were kids.”
“How so?”
“Well,” he starts, pausing the show. His eyes are distant for a moment, as if he’s mechanically sifting through his thoughts. “It’s just ... more pressure than I expected. It’s not just playing for fun anymore. Every game feels like it could make or break my future.”
I tilt my head up, my eyes tracing the faint lines of stress etched at the corners of his—ones I hadn’t noticed before. “But you still love it, right? I mean, soccer’s been your life since you could basically walk.”
“Yeah, I do love it. It’s just that sometimes, I miss playing just for the hell of it. For the joy. Like we used to back in Farmer’s Park, remember?”
He glances down at me, and there’s a vulnerability in his gaze.
“Of course I remember.” I laugh, nudging his side gently with my elbow. “You were so competitive, even then. Remember when you tried to impress me with your juggling and ended up crashing into Mrs. Walsh’s rosebushes?”
A spark ignites in Callum’s eyes, the lines of stress smoothing away as he chuckles. “Yeah, and she came out waving her pruning shears, threatening to turn me into mulch if I damaged her precious blooms.”
Laughter bubbles up from my chest, bright and genuine. After all this time, it’s nice to see Callum this relaxed, this ... real. Not the star athlete, not the college celebrity, just Callum, the boy who once took a nosedive into foliage for the sake of impressing me.
“Hey, don’t act like you weren’t awestruck. You didn’t have quite the same poker face back then.”
“Mhm, awestruck by your ability to shriek like a five-year-old when Mrs. Walsh came after you? That squashed your little crush on her right then and there.”
His laughter fills the room again, and for a moment, the years peel back. He smiles as he watches me, a playful glint in his eyes. “Speaking of childhood crushes, you had quite the thing for the Walsh kid back then, didn’t you?”
