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“Good night.”
“Good night, Calla.”
No one called me that anymore, not since my parents died. Everyone knew me as Casper. Even Beau hadn’t called me by my given name. I liked how it sounded on Spider’s lips, in his voice.
I kept walking until I reached the last door. Before opening it, I looked behind me. Spider was still standing on the guest room’s threshold. When I raised my hand in a wave, he did the same.
I never slept wellafter I had too much alcohol, and tonight was no exception. I tossed and turned, woke up every hour at least, and by three in the morning, I had a pounding headache. By six, I forced myself out of bed and went into the kitchen to make a cup of coffee, drink a gallon of water, and wash down a couple of ibuprofens. When I heard another door open, I was glad I’d remembered I wasn’t alone and had put a robe on before coming out of my room.
“Good morning,” I said when Spider rounded the corner into the kitchen, surprised to see he was fully dressed. “I hope I didn’t wake you.”
He ran his fingers through his mussed hair. “No, I didn’t expect you to be up.”
Why did this have to feel so awkward? There were weeks of mornings when we met in the kitchen, me typically still in my flannel pajamas and him in sweatpants but no shirt.
I pointed to the coffeemaker. “I’m hoping caffeine will help. Can I get you a cup?”
He looked at the phone I hadn’t seen in his hand. “No, thanks. I, uh, called a car service.”
“At six in the morning?”What the fuck?“Were you trying to sneak out of here before I got out of bed?”
“I figured you wouldn’t want to see me this morning.”
“Why?”
“Maybe you don’t remember—”
“I remember, Spider,” I snapped.
“Don’t get mad. I was trying to make it easier on you.”
“The other thing I remember about last night is you saying I didn’t ruin things between us.”
His eyes scrunched. “You didn’t.”
“Then, why are you sneaking out of here like you never want to see me again?”
“That isn’t what I’m doing.”
When the coffeemaker sputtered, indicating it was done brewing, I poured a cup. “When’s your ride supposed to be here?”
“Twenty minutes. I planned to walk up to the gate.”
“Instead of waking me?”
“Come on, Casper. I really was trying to make it easier on you.”
“Casper.” I hated that he’d called me that instead of Calla.
“What?” His eyes met mine, and in them, I saw pain. And not the kind of hurt caused by a hangover.
I shook my head. “Nothing. You better go if you want to get to the gate in time. Have a nice life, Spider.”
When I brushed past him to retreat to my bedroom, he grabbed my arm. “Don’t do this.”
“I’m not the one sneaking out of here. I’m not the one putting an end to our friendship. I’m not the one…” I had to stop talking. If I didn’t, I’d cry, and the last thing I wanted was for him to see how much his actions hurt me.
“I’m not putting an end to our friendship.”
