by Ella Fields
“What about your mom’s parents?” she asked.
I poked my bottom lip out, swinging my head side to side. “They’re okay. They don’t visit much, but when they do, it’s always with awesome gifts.”
Renee was looking at me, her lips curling a little. She wanted to smile, I knew it, and so did she, yet she wouldn’t. “My grandma is kind of the same.”
“The one partying in the Bahamas?”
She nodded. “We don’t see my mom’s parents. They didn’t approve of her marriage, so she stopped talking to them.”
I grimaced. “Well, that sucks.”
Renee was quiet a long moment, then said, “Better not let your parents see you. You reek of alcohol.”
Blinking, I swiped a hand down my face. “You’re right about that.”
I didn’t move, though. Instead, I watched her continuously weave the needle in and out of the material.
“I have a large collection of comic books,” I said without much thought.
Renee said nothing, but her fingers paused as she no doubt remembered me discovering her small Sailor Moon collection last year.
“DC, Batman, especially the Joker, are favorites,” I continued, then laughed to myself when she remained silent. “If you think you can have a field day by telling everyone, go ahead. You should know by now I don’t give a shit.”
She blew out an annoyed breath, eyes glued to her ministrations. “I don’t care.”
I scowled at her small hands, puzzled, but too drunk and too tired to solve it.
People eventually started leaving, laughter and music turning to a quiet hum as I sat, oddly transfixed by the deft movements of those fingers, the concentration that marred her face contradicting her relaxed posture, and the way her tongue would peek out when she needed to give the needle a harder tug.
Footsteps sounded around the corner, and Renee’s parents called her name. She tucked the cross-stitch into a little bag that sat beside her, zipping it closed as she watched me.
I straightened, wondering how I’d ended up spending the last half of my own birthday party watching a girl I didn’t like take part in a grandma’s activity.
A fissure of panic sent the first words I could think of out of my mouth as Renee stood. “Not even going to wish me a happy birthday, Mini Mouse?”
Looking down at me, she stared for a few breaths. Then, without saying a word, she walked away.
Sixteen years old
I got out of my sixteenth birthday party thanks to the flu.
And if I was being honest, I’d never been more thankful for a virus in my life.
Not only did I not want the fuss or to play nice with people who pretended to be my friends just to score an invite, but I also didn’t want to see him.
Weird was the only word my frazzled brain could conjure to describe the few hours he’d sat with me at his own sixteenth birthday. But the weirdest part was since then, he’d tried to smile at me in the halls at school and in line in the cafeteria and tried to get my attention by kicking my chair or tossing paper at me during class.
All of which I ignored.
It was a pity I couldn’t ignore his friend, though, who had a habit of finding me after class these past few weeks and talking to me about random things.
“I didn’t even know you could put applesauce with it. Strange, right?” Mike said, a cute smile lighting up his blue eyes.
“Uh-huh.” I smiled back, not sure what he was talking about. I was busy reading a script for rehearsals tomorrow afternoon. I’d gotten the part of the evil witch in Clarke’s twisted retelling of Snow White. He was trying to do it without dwarfs since there were only eight of us in the group. Some of whom didn’t always show up for performances.
You couldn’t have Snow White without the dwarfs, but no matter how many times we’d told him that and suggested other ideas, he’d remained steadfast in his decision to be unique.
Hilda had gotten the part of Snow White, which was apt, and she was eating it up, discussing all the ways I could redesign the typical Snow White dress for her. Admittedly, I was more excited about that than the play itself.
“…And you’re not really listening to me, are you?”
I dropped the script to my side, smiling sheepishly. “Sorry, but I’ve only got another few days to get some lines right, and—”
“And she’s just not that into you,” Callum cut in, swinging an arm around Mike’s shoulders.
Mike scowled, shoving it off.
Mortified, I didn’t know what to say. Callum didn’t give me much time to say anything, though. “She’s into the more rugged types. Blonds especially. Aren’t you, Mini Mouse?”
“How the hell would you know what I’m into?”
Callum’s top lip curled, displaying a flash of his white teeth. “You mentioned it once. That, and well, I’ve just got you pegged.”
I laughed. “No. You really don’t.”
His frown made me smile until Mike cut in. “Yeah, I’m gonna jet. I’ll see you at practice in the morning.” A shy smile was directed at me. “Bye, Renee.”
“Bye, Mike,” I said, waving slightly.
“Don’t feel bad. It’s better he knows now than later.”
I headed for my car, Callum following and whistling as he ran a hand over the black paint. “Nice. What lies did you need to spin to get this?”
Trying not to roll my eyes, I opened the door and shoved the script and my backpack onto the passenger seat. “Go home, Callum.”
“Mini Mouse,” he said, voice far too close. Shocked, I spun around, my neck cricking back as he loomed above me, those dark eyes glowing with mischief. “Why do you always ignore me?”
“Do I seriously need to explain that to you?”
His brows furrowed. “That’d be great, actually.”
“Okay, fine. How about the fact that if I acknowledge you in any way, shape, or form, you make my life hell or you accuse me of trying to be your future trophy wife? Oh, and let’s not forget that”—I stabbed a finger at his chest when he started chuckling—“I. Don’t. Fucking. Like. You.”
He stopped laughing, his nostrils flaring as his deep voice lowered. “I’ll admit I might’ve jumped the gun, and yeah, I did some messed-up things, but—”
Brushing off the shiver that wanted to assault me, I straightened my shoulders. “I don’t care. Get out of the way so I can leave.”
A heavy moment settled between us as his eyes scanned my face, stopping on the bow I used to sweep my hair aside in a rush that morning. “You’re really kind of exquisite, but I suppose you already know that, don’t you?”
“Honestly,” I wheezed out. “Do you ever say anything without injecting at least a tiny barb of venom?”
He tsked. “If I remember correctly, you gave me some of your own two minutes ago.”
“I did not. All I said was …” I trailed off as his grin grew two sizes bigger, making his dimple deepen and the severe slice of his cheekbones more prominent. My eyes shut as I groaned. “Ugh, you’re infuriating.”
Warmth fanned over my cheek as I felt his body step close to mine. “Could make for some seriously hot chemistry.” I went to shove him back when his lips brushed over my skin. “You smell like peaches.”
“And you smell like an asshole. Get off me.”
He stepped back, chuckling again. “Later, Mini Mouse.”
With my blood boiling, I climbed into my car and shut the door, watching him swagger across the lot to a waiting Town Car.
“That’s not how it goes,” Hilda said, shoulders tight and mouth pinched.
“It doesn’t matter.” Clarke waved a hand. “Improvise. Imitation will only get you so far.”
Hilda glared at Tyson, who was playing the prince but had now decided he wanted to be the huntsman. “World of Warcraft style,” he said with a grin that was supposed to be menacing. “Let’s make it bloody.”
“Bloody means we’ll have to scrounge up more blood bags, and our budget is already
tight.”
“It shouldn’t be.” Tyson looked over at where I was standing in the wings. “Renee is making most of the costumes.”
“Regardless, we didn’t have the funds to start with,” Clarke said. “So unless you want to ask Mommy or Daddy, let’s not get too carried away.”
I’d come to notice in my time at Trellara Prep that these people never stuck to a well-written script. Rather, they liked to just keep bits and pieces from it. At first, it unnerved me, but after watching as an impeccably dressed tree in last year’s performance of Jack and Jill, I had to admit, their ability to make a hot mess out of a traditional story made for a far more entertaining show.
We wrapped ten minutes later, but I stayed back, my sewing kit sitting by me next to the stage as I finished replacing buttons and taking up the hem on a worn maiden’s dress.
“Are you coming?” Hilda asked, making me look up as she shouldered her backpack.
“Where?”
She half rolled her eyes. “Bits and Burgers. We’re all going to get shakes, remember?”
I knew Clarke would stay behind for at least another hour, so I shook my head. “I need to finish this for Alissa, then I’ve gotta get home to finish the math homework we have due tomorrow.”
I threaded some copper string through the needle, tying it off as Hilda’s feet stayed planted in front of me. “What?” I asked.
“You hardly ever hang out with us outside of school lately.”
“You guys want these costumes done, right?” I tried to keep the snark out of my tone and failed.
Hilda snorted. “Seriously, Renee. So boring.”
Then she was gone, and I stared down at my hands, at the dusty dress in my lap, and sighed.
“She sounds delightful,” Callum drawled, startling me.
Lifting his tall frame from the wall he’d been leaning against in the shadows, he strode over and took a seat beside me on the ground, his hair damp and a drink bottle in hand.
I blinked a few times. “What are you doing here?”
“Coach has us running double practice. Thought I’d say hello before I went home.”
It was just yesterday that he’d blocked my attempts of escaping him after school. “Well, say hello and run along, then.”
“Hello, and no thank you. I’m quite happy right here.” His eyes followed my every movement as I shifted the dress and started on the hem.
Let him watch, I thought. What harm could it possibly do?
“Is that your costume?” he asked after a few minutes.
Again, I shifted it in my lap, smoothing the hem with a finger. “No, it’s for Alissa.”
“Alissa,” Callum repeated. “Nope, don’t know her.”
I contained a snort. Of course, he wouldn’t. She was beneath his usual hierarchy. “You should take the time to get to know more of your peers.”
“I’m here with you, aren’t I?” he retorted, voice gentle.
“Not what I meant. You know enough about me, and I don’t care to know any more about you.”
“False and false.”
My hand jerked, slipping as frustration shot through me. “Shit,” I hissed, lifting my finger as a drop of blood bubbled on my skin.
Before I could do anything with it, Callum grabbed my finger and shoved it into his mouth.
My eyes sprang wide, the swiftness of the act and my surprise rendering me dumbstruck as his warm tongue slid around my finger. Something clenched in my stomach, my toes curling inside my shoes as his eyes danced with my startled ones.
He released it with a loud, sucking pop, his fingers brushing over my wrist as he gently situated my hand back in my lap.
“Why are you making the costumes?” he asked as if he didn’t just suck my blood like a vampire and cause me to have a prelude to what was bound to be a huge orgasm.
“Um.” After inspecting my finger, which looked as though nothing had happened to it, I tucked some hair behind my ear before picking up the needle and dress. “I enjoy it.”
“For this many people, though?”
“I only need to make three and fix a few others.” I lifted the dress an inch. “Like this one.”
“So, while you’re here, doing this, they’re all out there on their way to stuff their faces?”
“I’m here because I want to be.” Which was true. “You don’t need to be, so you can go now.”
“I’m here because I want to be, too.” He said it so casually with no trace of mockery in his deep baritone. “Did you know that when you’re concentrating, your nose twitches slightly?”
I raised a brow but otherwise ignored him and kept working on the dress.
He pressed some more. “What is it about sewing that you enjoy so much?”
“The silence.” Guilt pricked at my chest as soon as the blunt word filled the air between us, so I continued, “Aside from it being a much-needed time-out, if there’s something I want that I can’t find, I can create it.”
Callum hummed thoughtfully. The sound was deep and awakened jittery flutters in my stomach.
After a long stretch of silence, he started talking again. “I don’t want to take over the company.”
I knew that. Oh boy, I definitely knew that. “So don’t.”
He laughed without any hint of humor. “Not that simple. Dad doesn’t see football as a career, but he understands it can make me some money until I’m ready to take over for him.”
“Talk to him about it,” I said, when what I wanted to say was, don’t talk to me about it. I couldn’t, though. His rich, deep voice was softer, gentler. And I realized it was because he was being himself. And far be it from me to keep anyone from being their true selves.
“He won’t listen. Says I’m too young to understand right now, and that one day, I’ll agree with him.”
“Maybe. And don’t bite my head off for saying this, but maybe he’s right.”
“I don’t care,” he clipped.
I smiled down at the brown and gold fabric. “Okay. And you brought this up because …?”
He crossed his ankles, sneakers squeaking against the old wood floor. “Because my personal life is mine. I got scared that they’d try to control that too.”
“They?” My shoulders tensed.
“You know who I mean. Our parents.”
The seconds fell like rain as I mulled his words over. Eventually, I murmured softly, “Understandable.”
We sat in silence, and when I finished the dress, I looked over to see his head was inclined toward me, flopping against the wall as though he was about to fall asleep.
“You should go home and go to bed early.”
“Will you join me?” he asked with a groggy smile.
“You wish.” I folded the dress, tucking my needle and thread away and closing the kit.
“Stay,” he said, causing me to sigh and slump back against the wall.
I hadn’t seen or heard Clarke since Callum appeared. The dim lights over the stage casted Callum’s face in half shadow, outlining the deep cut of his jaw and cheekbones.
A handsome boy. Beautiful but like a wolf. He’d charm me, invite me in with sweet words and stomach clenching stares, then leave me half dead on the unforgiving ground.
I knew it, and still, I couldn’t stop myself from staring. Like a drug I’d never taken, my fascination with the danger became an oxygen-depriving thing between us, causing my chest to heave.
“Why?” I finally asked.
Lifting his hand, he kept his eyes on mine, his teeth scraping over his lush bottom lip as his warm skin met my cheek, his thumb caressing it.
His head fell forward. “So I can do this,” he breathed into my mouth. Then his lips were on mine. Soft, careful, and still.
My eyes shut, my heart halting then galloping as Callum melded his lips to mine. Pressing gently at first, he soon urged them deeper, his hand still on my face and his breath tumbling out of him as his lips parted. His tongue peeked out, separating my lips to inch inside jus
t enough to lick my top lip. A strangled gasp left me when he groaned, and I shoved him away, scrambling backward.
My face was a wildfire and his grin the gasoline as he sat sprawled out lazily against the wall. “What, what …?” I sputtered, blinking and uncertain what to do with my hands, my body, my tingling lips.
Callum stood. “You taste like peaches, too.”
I couldn’t control my own heartbeat as I stood on untrustworthy legs. His words had me blinded with rage, my hands slapping at his chest as I spewed obscenities at him. “You egocentric asshole. How fucking dare you?”
“What?” He laughed, trying to grab my hands.
“You don’t get to just steal someone’s first kiss. I want it back.” Another slap to his chest. “Now.”
He stopped laughing, grabbing my wrists as his face gradually fell. “That was your first kiss?”
I wouldn’t be ashamed, not when I was too upset over what he’d stolen from me. “Yes,” I said through my teeth, tears smarting.
His hold on my wrists loosened, but he didn’t let go. Humor left his eyes, his expression changing into something I couldn’t read. “I didn’t know.”
“You wouldn’t,” I bit out. “Because you didn’t ask. You never ask. You always just assume you know everything.”
“You had to know I was about to kiss you,” he said, brows furrowed.
I swallowed, taking my hands back. “I didn’t …” I stopped, remembering what happened in those moments before. I guess even if I didn’t know, some part of me did. Hoped for it, even. “Forget it,” I said, embarrassed.
I went to grab my stuff, but he caught my hand. “I know it might help if I was, but I’m not sorry.”
I huffed out a laugh, swiping at my nose with the sleeve of my blazer. I didn’t even realize I’d been crying.
“I’ve wanted to kiss you since I met you.”
I guffawed. “You’ve hated me since you met me.”
Pulling me to him, he surveyed me carefully as he set his hands on my hips. I let him, unsure why, unsure of anything at that moment. “I didn’t know you,” he said, “but you got under my skin.”
“You still don’t know me,” I whispered, my voice thick.