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“By your standards. That doesn’t make it fact, you know.” I dug my teeth into my bottom lip to hold back a smile. I never thought I’d have such an easy conversation with this man while I looked up at his bright, blue eyes with the winter sky behind him.
He shrugged. “I wanted you to have it. That’s all that matters.”
“Well, thank you.” I almost brought my hand up to touch him, but my arm suddenly weighed a thousand pounds and I couldn’t seem to lift it. “What did you do with the one Adam gave me?”
“It’s gone. I got rid of it.”
My nose wrinkled. “You threw away a perfectly good plant? That’s a crime, Callum. You can’t do that.”
“I did.”
“You shouldn’t have.”
His eyes flared for barely more than a breath, then went calm like a fathomless sea, peering back at me without a wave or whitecap in sight. If we weren’t standing in front of a coffee shop on a crowded sidewalk, I would have taken my time studying the sharp planes of his cheeks, the softness of his mouth, his hair glinting with gold in the sun. Callum Rose was starkly beautiful. Everything about him broke my heart a little more.
“Okay. I should go so I have time to eat lunch.”
“Okay,” he echoed. “I won’t be here tomorrow. We have to finish the album this week, so I’ll be locked in the studio.”
I nodded. “Makes sense. So…this might have been our last time waiting together.”
“No.” His hand flexed by his side. “No, definitely not.”
One last look, and he dropped his gaze from mine and strode with his head down in the direction of Good Music. My teeth dug into my bottom lip as I drank in his long gait, the shape of his ass in his jeans, his hair tucked into his collar, and every other detail I’d been starving for three years ago. I couldn’t quite grasp who this raw, real version of Callum Rose was, but I was beginning to think I liked him.
My chest ached with the very real possibility he wouldn’t think much of me anymore once I told him who I really was.
Three and a half years ago
Little Bird,
Things are happening for TSC.
We’re playing the Swerve Tour again this summer, and not on the tiny stage behind the port-a-potties you saw us on. We’ll be in front of the toilets this year.
This week, we’re headed into the studio to record a demo. There’s someone from A&R at Good Music coming out to see us play live. I don’t lean toward optimism, but I’m feeling hopeful. It’s strange. I didn’t think I cared whether TSC took off, but now that it might be happening, I’m finding I fucking want it.
I’m working my way toward you, Little Bird. I haven’t slept in the van all week. I talked to a stranger. I got a haircut. I’m close.
Here’s me being as honest as I can be: I’m more afraid of meeting you and ruining it than not getting the record deal. Does that make sense to you?
How are you? Any thoughts on moving to the city?
Callum
Dear Callum,
Of course you’re going to get a record deal. I knew TSC was going somewhere when I watched you behind the port-a-potties. And now look at you guys, in FRONT of them! You’re going places.
Haha, but for real, I’m so proud of you and the band. Even if it falls through (which it won’t), I’m proud, because you guys have worked your asses off.
Here’s me being honest back: I’m so freaking scared of meeting you and losing you after, I don’t know if I can go through with it. And that’s so stupid because I think about you every day. All I want is to deepen our connection, but I’m still hesitating.
You know me. I feel closer to you than everyone in my life aside from Jenny. If I lose you, I don’t know what I’ll do. How do I get over that fear, Callum?
I’m okay. My dad threw away my $200 textbook two days ago because I didn’t remember to start the dishes after dinner. I have to figure out how to scrape up enough money to buy a new one. Jenny will help if I ask, but I hate to ask. The city seems like such a far-off dream now. I don’t know what I was thinking even considering it.
I hope Crazy Leon doesn’t miss you too bad now that you’re not sleeping with him in the van.
