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The mention of Derek brings a flush to my cheeks, but not for the reasons he thinks. I never cared about Derek or his useless collection of Pokémon cards. It was always going to be Callum for me, with his wild dares and even wilder dreams.
“Oh, come on. That was just a silly kid thing,” I deflect, hoping my voice doesn’t betray the rapid beating of my heart.
“Silly kid thing, huh?” He nudges me back, his grin widening. “You sure chased him around enough at the playground.”
I roll my eyes, even as a tendril of warmth curls in my stomach. “I just wanted him to trade me his limited-edition Charizard card, thank you very much.”
He chuckles, throwing his head back, the sound rich and warm. It wraps around me, a reminder of all the reasons I’ve always been drawn to him, how easy it is to love him.
“If I remember correctly, all the girls were afteryouon the playground,” I say, “including the ever-popular Joy Corrigan, who practically wrote your name in hearts all over her notebooks.”
“Joy Corrigan?” He scratches his head, feigning confusion, but I can see the bashful pride dancing in his eyes. “Can’t say I recall the name.”
“Sure you don’t. And you weren’t caught making out with her behind the bleachers during senior grad night, either.”
“You knew about that?”
“If it was something that concerned you, Cal, then I knew about it.”
He rubs the back of his neck, a corner of his lip turning up. “So, er, you ever keep up with Walsh after graduation?”
“Nope, no clue what he’s up to now.”
“Hm, any other potential suitors over the past couple years? Any guys worth mentioning?”
“After all this time, you’re really asking me about my love life?”
“Guess so.”
“Er, well, it’s pretty much nonexistent these days,” I say, trying to keep it light, but there’s a thread of truth that makes my heart twinge. “The last real date I went on was over six months ago. It was, um, with one of your teammates, actually.”
He shifts in his seat. “Who?”
“Cruz something?” I murmur, a blush creeping up my cheeks.
“No shit? That guy’s such an asshole.”
“He’syourteammate. And besides, it was just a couple of dates. They were . . . awkward, to say the least.” There’s a silence, filled with unasked questions, and I rush to fill it. “Pretty sure he just wanted to get in my pants. And, um, aside from that, I guess I haven’t really found what I’ve been looking for. In the dating world . . . or the bedroom.”
I instantly regret the words, too personal, too raw. We’ve never really talked about dating, let alone sex, and now isn’t the time to start. But the truth hangs there between us, an admission I can’t take back.
“You know, if you ever wanted to try ... I mean, I’m sure I could help with that.”
My heart stutters.Did Callum Galloway seriously just offer to help me in the bedroom?
A cruel attempt at a joke or a genuine proposal? From my childhood friend, it’s hard to tell. But either way, it doesn’t sit right, not with our history, not with the unspoken feelings I’ve buried deep down over the years.
“No, thanks,” I snap with a scoff, pulling away from him, the space between us opening wide.
He reaches for me, but I’m already standing, gathering my dignity around me like a shield. “Wait,” he pleads. “Sorry, Li, you know I didn’t mean?—”
But I don’t wait. I can’t.
Not when the boy—theman—who’s been my benchmark for all others would offer himself up as some trivial hookup. To make matters worse, I still think about, fret over, ruminate on that almost-kiss we shared during the beginning of freshman year. The night that turned a “see you later” into an endless goodbye.
His front door slams shut behind me, the early winter air cool against my flushed cheeks. I wrap my arms around myself, feeling exposed and foolish.
The laughter and warmth of moments ago has evaporated, replaced by a hollow ache.
