by Ella Fields
Yet he was doing just that.
“Look, it’s your ex, right?” one of the guys said, followed by laughter as they all turned and saw me standing in the hallway.
Callum’s eyes locked on mine, and I tried; with everything in me, I tried to beg him with one look not to destroy me. I should’ve known it would only give him further fuel to do just that.
He looked down at the girl, who was biting her nail, glancing warily at me and then back at Callum. “She doesn’t matter anymore, don’t worry.”
Despite the music and the distance, his words traveled. Or maybe it was just my ability to read his lips, his thoughts, as though I’d lived inside him for far too long.
“Prove it,” one of the guys said with a snicker.
Callum sent a glare his way. The guy merely shrugged, sipping from a plastic cup.
“I don’t need to prove shit.” But his arm wrapped around the girl, and he walked her over to the far side of the room, taking a seat with her on a couch tucked in the corner.
“Hey, there you are. This beer is warm. Gross, but here,” Hannah said, passing me a cup.
I took it even though I knew I wouldn’t drink it. I doubted I’d ever drink again, then glanced back at Callum.
His gaze was a dare, one that told me to go right ahead and make a mess of myself again.
I looked down at the beer, then lifted my eyes to Callum before tipping the contents of the cup behind me into a small hipster looking cacti that sat on a shelf in the wall. Without sparing him another glance, I followed Hannah.
When we reached the kitchen, I feigned disgust, pretending to spit the beer out. “Ew.” I turned on the tap, tipping the empty cup upside down over the sink. “That’s so bad.”
Just the scent of it was enough to transport me back to a night that started out not so differently from this one. My stomach curdled.
Hannah laughed, linking her arm through mine and dragging me through the large house and up the stairs. “Wanna get high instead?”
“No, thanks. But you’re welcome to.” I eyed the living area upstairs, where only a few people sat around, playing video games, drinking, and talking. “I’ll hang out here for a while.”
“Okay, I’ll be back in a few.”
Spying an empty futon in the corner, I took a seat on it, not wanting to invite conversation. I’d wait until Hannah came back, then I’d leave. My skin felt like it was tingling, itching, knowing I was sitting above the room Callum was in with another girl. Not knowing what he was doing had my legs crossing and uncrossing, and my hands fidgeting with the skirt of my dress.
Quit slouching and don’t fidget. Chin up, shoulders back, smile on.
I’d never been so grateful for my mother’s nagging. Or the drama classes I’d taken through school. I might not have been anything special, but I knew how to fake it enough until I hopefully made it.
I don’t need to know what he’s doing, I tried to tell myself.
But I knew all too well that not knowing was worse. I needed facts, needed to quell the swirling of my thoughts.
“Renee?” Oh, shit.
Mike approached with a tentative smile on his face and leaned against the wall next to where I was sitting. My hands shook. I didn’t want to be sitting when he was standing over me. I’d made myself vulnerable enough around him for one lifetime.
I stood. “Can I help you?”
He frowned, looking down at his beer for a second before returning his blue eyes to me. “I just …”
“Let me guess, Callum is still friends with you, but I’ve been kicked to the curb, and you want to apologize.” I twisted my lips, pretending to think about it. “Don’t waste your breath. Apology not accepted.”
I went to move around him when he gently grabbed my bicep. “He hates me, too.”
“Then why are you here? Talking to me?”
His lip sandwiched between his teeth, he took his time staring at me before saying, “Because I was hoping you might be, so I could talk to you.”
I shook my head, and his grip on my arm as I thought about what I could do with this. “You should be talking to him and straightening this mess out.”
Mike licked his lips, gaze darting to the ground a second.
“You haven’t even tried, have you?” I all but screeched.
“I have, but it’s not that simple.”
“You’re damn right it’s not. I can’t even remember what happened, Mike.” I paused to gather some composure. “Tell me, please. Tell me exactly what happened.”
Laughter rose from the floor below us, cheering and hooting following it, as Mike’s eyes dug into mine. “Does it really need explaining, Renee? I’m sorry, but I don’t regret—”
“Stop.” I closed my eyes, confusion clouding everything I wanted to say, but it was pointless. Looking at him again, disgust swept over me. Not for him, but at how we’d wound up here. All three of us.
An idea formed then. As ludicrous and wrong as it was, I was desperate, and I wasn’t afraid to show it when I grabbed his arm and said, “You could talk to him, tell him nothing happened, that, I don’t know, someone must have photoshopped the image. Something. Anything to fix this.”
“Renee,” Mike whispered, his hand rising to cup my cheek. “I have spoken to him.”
I swallowed, feeling stupid. “You didn’t even try to deny it, did you?” My voice cracked, and my eyes stung with the threat of tears when Mike just stared at me, lips pinched tight. “Why?” I hissed.
He hissed back, “You know why.”
“No,” I said with a humorless laugh. “I really don’t. This goes beyond—”
“Because I love you.” The blue of his eyes darkened, and I’d never seen his jaw harden quite like that. Never heard his voice sound so rough.
“You don’t.”
“I do,” he said vehemently. “And because I do, I’d try to fix it, I swear, but I’ve already made it worse.”
“You don’t love me,” I said, stunned.
His hold on my cheek tightened. “Renee.”
“No, you don’t. You simply want what you can’t—”
“This looks cozy.”
Callum’s voice reached into my chest and squeezed. I clenched my eyes shut, screaming at myself in my head when I thought about how this must look. Bad, with barely enough space for another body to slide between Mike’s and my own, and his hand on my cheek, really bad.
I turned, Mike’s hand falling away as I looked at Callum.
“It’s not—”
“What it looks like?” He chuckled, eyes lighting with intoxication and disbelief. “Sure.” With a nod at Mike, he said, “You already know this one is bound to stray, so good luck keeping a leash on her.”
With that, he stalked down the hall to the stairs, leaving me there with a useless heart that wouldn’t stop its incessant whining.
“Renee, he’s just hurt.”
“You don’t think I know that?” I spat at Mike, then drew in a long breath. “Just … stay away from me.”
I tried to ignore the pain that flickered over his face at my words and walked to the stairs. Hannah was walking up them as I descended. “I’m going back to the dorm,” I told her.
“Okay, bye,” she said, continuing up the stairs.
I didn’t want friends, and I tried to remind myself of that as her nonchalance shocked me. It shouldn’t; no one really gave a damn about anyone but themselves.
It was my own fault for continuing to think that someone could be different from all the rest. I should’ve known we’re all fickle, selfish creatures better than anyone by now.
I reached the bottom of the stairs when I saw Callum again. He was at the end of the hall, and the brunette he was with earlier plastered against the wall as their hands roamed and their mouths no doubt met.
I watched, making myself endure the torture, for it needed to be witnessed. To sink inside my defiant brain and send a message to my heart. If someone has control over your heart, the wors
t thing you could do was make an enemy out of them.
And like a fool, I had.
He lifted her, her ankles crossing above his ass and causing one of her shoes to fall off. She broke away from him with a giggle, then saw me standing there.
She whispered something to Callum, and his back straightened. Then, with a wink in my direction, he stalked down the hall to where the bedrooms were with her still attached to him.
Christmas arrived. It was one thing not to go home for Thanksgiving, but there was no way I could skip Christmas without someone knowing something was up.
My mother was beside herself that I’d chosen to volunteer at a homeless shelter rather than go home and spend time with them.
I hadn’t really planned on volunteering, but after I’d used it as an excuse, guilt nagged at me. And so I actually did. Not at a homeless shelter, but at a soup kitchen near campus.
Close enough.
Callum had been having fun, of that I was sure. Not only had he made a habit of frequenting more parties since our split, but he’d made quite a name for himself among the female population at Gray Springs.
“Fox indeed,” I’d murmured, watching him grin that devious grin of his at a lovely little blonde one morning after everyone had returned from Thanksgiving break.
He could do what he wanted. There was no way for me to stop him. At this rate, I doubted anything could. And so after that first night of drowning my pillow in tears, I refused to let myself cry like that again.
He was just fucking them to fill the void I’d left. The hurt I’d inflicted. Because he’d loved me. And I had to believe this was his way of coping. It was too dangerous to think of it as anything else.
The roads were wet, the sky gray and filled with fat clouds that hovered ominously as I drove into town. Small houses and modest yards soon gave way to sprawling blocks of land, shrouded in trees, or shaved fancy hedges to show off the expanse of their loaded bank accounts.
I pulled into the drive, my heart leaping at the sight of the white two-story home I never thought I’d miss so much. My mother raced out, barely waiting until I’d parked to draw me into a hug and then slapped at my upper arm. “You’re staying right here for Christmas.” When I laughed, her lips puckered. “I’m serious. It’s been so boring.”
“Lovely to see you too.” I got my stuff out of the trunk, quickly closing it when I realized some of my boxes were still in there. Shit. I’d have to find a storage place where I could pay in cash.
“Your father is the worst, working even more than he used to. I need a vacation at some point.”
“I’m sure he does, too.” I hefted my leather mustard tote to the porch, then returned for my handbag.
“I’m considering getting a job, that’s how bored I am.”
“Yeah? What do you want to do?”
“Is that all you brought?” she asked, scrutinizing my bags.
I couldn’t tell her that I didn’t need to pack any more since some of my belongings lived in my car on a permanent basis. “Yes, I have stuff here still.”
“Oh, right.” She waved a hand, then grabbed my handbag and walked with me inside the house. “And I don’t know what I’d do.”
“There’s a nice nursing home in town,” I said, dropping my bag at the base of the stairs. “You should volunteer there; they’re probably always looking.”
“No. Old people can get smelly.”
I took my handbag from her. “So can young people.”
Her lips twisted as though she didn’t believe me. “Enough about that. Did you buy me something amazing?”
I decided I’d already had enough of her company and grabbed my tote to head upstairs with. “Maybe. You’ll have to wait and see.”
“Where are you going? We need to have tea and gossip.”
“Later, I want to unpack and get settled first.”
“Bo-ring,” she sang, her heels clacking on the floor as she wandered off.
Had anyone been around to hear it, the sigh that left me when I stepped inside my room was almost embarrassing. I dumped my bags by the wall, then walked over to my desk where my sewing machine once sat.
Now it was in a box under my bed in my dorm room. Collecting cobwebs, no doubt.
My bed was made as though I’d never left. The rainbow netting peeled back to the posts and the pillows all nestled together on the ruffled peach duvet. My unicorn, the one Callum won for me, sitting front and center.
Stepping up onto the dais, I ran my hand over the satin material, scrunching my fingers over the ruffled frills when I reached them. I sat down, looked over at my bookshelves, and almost let the sorrow back in when I saw a Sailor Moon comic sitting where Callum had last left it out on the shelf.
Mom must have ordered our cleaner to dust around it. She could get sentimental like that.
Still, I couldn’t tell them, and I wondered if Callum felt the same. It was one thing for them to want us together in theory and another to actually take it a step further and get married.
If they found out we’d fallen apart, especially in the way that we had, they’d find out everything.
There was no way I could deal with that. Not right now.
“I’ve never liked eggnog. It’s so weird.”
“Agreed,” I said into my tea as we sat around the fire in the sitting room.
My father was responding to emails as my mother sorted through all the jewelry she’d received, placing it carefully into her new jewelry box.
The diamond earrings I’d gotten her had made her clap and squeal like she was a kid again.
People could say what they wanted about her, and I’d likely agree, but I loved her. Something that had become more apparent since I’d gotten home three days ago. She could make me smile with an ease I’d never encountered before. My father too, I guessed from watching the way he watched her open her gifts with such obvious delight.
“No eggnog will be served. I’ve declared it.”
“I like eggnog,” Dad said, eyes steadfast on his phone.
Mom stabbed a finger at him. “Not once have I seen you drink it.”
He shrugged. “But if the option to have it is removed, I’ll probably want it.”
My mother looked at me with a brow poised high. “Such is the way with men.”
I laughed into my tea, wrapping my hands tight around my mug as I stared at my gifts lined up in front of me on the floor.
New cross-stitches, albums to store my designs, bundles of material, stationery, a necklace, ribbons and bows, and the list goes on.
“Kian said they’ll be here for lunch, too, instead of dinner,” my dad called as Mom went to leave the room.
“Damon, a little more warning would be nice.”
“Why?”
Mom huffed. “Because I haven’t washed my hair since yesterday morning, and this room is a mess.”
“It’s Christmas,” my dad said, looking up from his phone. “And you always look beautiful, you know that.”
Mom blushed, her protests dead and buried as she happily flitted out of the room. Dad winked at me, then returned his attention to his phone.
I started cleaning up the wrapping paper, getting far too much satisfaction from scrunching it into a ball and tossing it all onto one couch.
“How are classes going?” Dad asked.
“Well,” I said, bending to dig out a rogue piece of paper that laid half hidden beneath an armchair.
“You’re taking theatre?”
“I am,” I said. I stacked Mom’s things on the coffee table, then started gathering mine to take to my room.
“You don’t have to. You know that, right?” His voice was low, but it still shocked me.
“What?”
He actually rolled his eyes. “We both know you didn’t join drama clubs for the reasons your mother wished you would.”
“I …” A small laugh slipped free. “But then, I don’t know what else I should do.”
Dad put his phone down, risin
g from the couch and collecting his presents. Mostly gift cards to various golfing stores, a new watch, some ties, and new dress shirts. “You’ve always known what you wanted to do.”
I had. “Just because you love something doesn’t necessarily mean you need to make it your career, though, does it?”
He stopped moving then, turning to me with eyes much greener than my own. “You’re afraid you won’t love it then. Is that it?”
I shrugged.
“I don’t love what I do, but I do love one thing.” He smiled, no need to say anything further.
Smirking, I said it for him. “Money.”
He chucked me under the chin. “You have time. But pretty soon, you’ll need to spend it doing the right things and thinking long-term.”
After he’d left the room, I pondered his words for the next few minutes until I remembered what he’d said earlier.
Callum would be here soon. Or maybe he wouldn’t bother showing. I hoped he did. Not only for selfish reasons, but also to ensure our parents stayed in the dark.
I hadn’t gone near him in weeks, only looked on from afar. Preservation had me slinking around like a fool. It was one thing to know what he was doing, but another entirely to see it all the time.
I wasn’t sure if I could handle it. Seeing him today, or any day, just yet.
Yet I wasn’t sure if I could handle the alternative, either. The one where he didn’t show up, potentially sending our worlds tumbling into further chaos.
A text came through right before they were due to arrive, and my hands shook as I opened it. It’d been too long since I’d seen his name flash on the screen of my phone.
Callum: Are we playing pretend?
Me: If you want.
Callum: Oh, I want. I get the best of both worlds then, don’t I?
I scowled at the message and another one followed shortly after.
Callum: … or should I say best and worst.
Me: Just don’t do anything stupid.
Callum: So many things I could say to that. See you soon, Mouse.