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I'm still not the best with emotions or expressing them, but I want to try. I want to stop holding back for fear of the rug being pulled out from underneath me. Callum hasn't done anything to show otherwise and he deserves that chance.
No longer will I try to convince myself of the opposite of what's true. I love Callum Francis, and I want to try.
This is only the second chance. Maybe the time wasn't right for us all those years ago. Maybe this is how it was meant to be.
"Okay, let's go." Callum says, re-entering the room in his regular uniform.
I don't know why he spends so much money to wear basically the same outfit everyday. He doesn't even look like someone in an alt-rock band. Especially not wearing the new hat I bought him.
He looks like he should be singing about country roads and beer. It makes my dick hard.
The festival is awesome. I buy a few pieces and it'll be a hassle getting them home, but they're awesome. We get recognized ever so often, pausing to take photos with fans.
It feels almost like a date. The urge to grab Callum's hand washes over me every few minutes. The urge to be couple-y with him has plagued me more and more recently. I can't fight it anymore.
I hold Callum's hand without a word, and while it clearly shocks him, he doesn't acknowledge it. He just smiles.
We're in public, so we should be careful, but it's just holding hands, and honestly, no one has to know anything unless we tell them. We could makeout on stage and it's still nobody's business what's going on between us.
We go out to eat at dinner time, an Italian restaurant with a delicious alfredo sauce. And though I'd never admit it out loud, Callum's is better.
We Uber to the nearest beach, wanting to prolong the day, and because we don't get to see it often. Nebraska is a landlocked state.
We sit on the beach side by side, using a blanket we bought at the fair. I lay my head on Callum's shoulder as we watch the waves crash against the shore. The beach is dead, only a few stragglers left who are clearly done for the day. This is a more private area though, so there may be more people where we can't see them.
The sun sets in watercolors of pink, orange, and gold.
"It's pretty."
"Yeah, it is."
I look into his eyes, shining like the setting sun. The condensation gathers and drips from my heart. It doesn't feel as cold anymore.
Callum
Ah, New York. The most magical, mystical, landfill you ever did see. I honestly love it here.
Despite my more introverted nature, I like to explore here. It almost makes me enjoy being around people. Case in point, the club we're on the way to. It's partly a PR deal with said club, but also it's a sick ass club and a free night out. I swear I've gotten more free shit since I became rich.
I've never understood why they give more free stuff to the very people that are more equipped to afford it. I get free stuff from companies and promote it so that the people who can't can fill their pockets. Fucked up system if you ask me.
Tonight is slightly different however, since this is a luxury club. I'm only advertising to other rich fucks.
Our IDs are checked at the door and we're let in to the sleek, slightly futuristic, nightclub. It's not what I expected. Somehow looking elegant and cool as fuck all at once. Lots of shiny black surfaces and neon blue LED lights. It's like a fancy spaceship.
There's seating scattered about around the dance floor, but when we're shown upstairs there's another bar and more places to sit down. It's just as cool as the dance area.
We also get to see the VIP area which is similar to the other space but without the addition of a bar. It's more closed off and a bit quieter than the rest. I'll probably spend most of my time in here.
"I'm gonna go dance, c'mon." Echo says, pulling Scout and Oliver away with him after our tour guide leaves. I bristle. Suddenly I don't want to stay here the whole time.
Since fucking when does he dance? Let alone at a club. What the fuck is he playing at?
I move to stand at the bar as I watch the trio skip arm in arm to the dance floor. It's kinda cute, with Echo in the middle, but still confusing.
I turn around to order a drink and the bartender flirts a little, probably hoping for a better tip. I'm polite, but clearly disinterested. Even if I had eyes for anyone else, I'm not into women.
My drink is already paid for but I still tip the girl handsomely after informing her of that. I'm not worried about being outted because of the privacy of this place. She smiles, thanking me before turning to other customers. When I turn back around Echo is staring at me with what appears to be anger on his face.
