by Anna B. Doe
Her eyes have that faraway look in them. The look of the person lost in her memories.
“The night before I was studying late. I told myself I’ll just write it down as a part of my revisions, but then I woke up late and I was panicking so I took it with me. I know it’s not an explanation you wanted to hear and I don’t expect you to forgive me, but I need you to know how sorry I am. You didn’t deserve it. Not after everything you’ve done for me.”
“It’s…” I inhale sharply, trying to compose myself. “It’s okay. I forgive you.”
It’s like the weight has been lifted off my shoulders. Saying those words out loud, meaning them. Really meaning them, it eased something inside of me. The weight I didn’t even know I still carried inside of me.
Would I wish for things to have been different? Yes, but in the long run, what Callie did, changed my life for the better too. God knows if my dad would have insisted I leave, if I weren’t expelled from the school, what would have happened then? It was a shitty situation, but I did come out on top of it in the very end. Unlike Callie.
More tears spill out of her eyes. She sniffles loudly, trying to hold them in, but there is no stopping them. It’s like a wall inside of her broke and she can’t hold back her emotions any longer.
“Shhh…” I come closer, tentatively wrapping my arms around her. “It’s okay. I forgive you. Don’t cry.”
“I-I d-don’t deserve your f-forgiveness.” The words are a stuttered, barely audible mess, but we’re so close I can hear them. Her shoulders shake in my embrace.
“Well, you have it, so deal with it,” my weak attempt at a joke fails.
“I-I just miss them so much.”
I can actually feel my heart break for her. She slays me to my very core. Every look. Every word. It’s my undoing. She is my undoing.
She burrows her head into my neck and I tighten my grip around her, throat dry. I don’t know what to say. What to do to make it better. Is there even such a thing one can do to make it better? No, I don’t think so because no matter how hard I try to think of the words they don’t come to me, so instead I just hold her stronger, pulling her in the warmth of my body.
She tries to resist it, her body rigid against mine, refusing the comfort, but then she finally gives in.
“Shhh… you love them, of course you miss them.”
A heart-wrenching sob rips from her lungs and punches straight into my heart. So I keep on whispering. It’s all just a bunch of nonsense. Reassurance that it’s not her fault. Pointless words that can’t take the pain away, but not once does she try to pull away.
I’m not sure how long we stay like that. Me holding her on my lap, my hand slowly going up and down her back. Steady, soothing until her breathing calms and tears dry, only an occasional hiccup left.
Then she pulls back, leaving just enough space between us so she can look at my face. She blinks a few times, clearing the tears from her eyes, and I can’t help but stare at her.
God, she is beautiful. Even with puffy, red-rimmed eyes, spiky, glued with tears eyelashes, and a snotty nose she’s the most beautiful girl I’ve ever met in my life.
She licks her lips and my eyes are instantly drawn to them. Full and rosy, they beckon me, begging to be kissed. There is liquid in the corner of her mouth. I wipe it with my thumb.
Our eyes clash, and I can see the need in her irises. The same need that’s slowly, but steadily burning brighter inside of me too.
Dammit, get a grip man.
The girl just cried in your arms after we brought all the dirty laundry from our past front and center. And the first thing you think about is kissing her?
I guess some things actually never change.
“Hayden…” she whispers softly, her fingers digging into the soft material of my shirt. Pleading.
I groan, fingers clenching.
I shouldn’t.
We shouldn’t.
But the way she looks at me...
“Tell me to stop,” I beg. Her? Myself? I’m not even sure which one.
This has disaster written all over it, but I can’t seem to stop. The last thing I want is to take advantage of her when she’s vulnerable like this and while I myself am conflicted about what comes next. Is there even a possibility for something next for us? Or do we just move on? Actually move on, like we couldn’t before.
She shakes her head, her soft hair brushing against my cheeks, grip on my chest growing stronger. Her nose brushes against mine, the hot breath touching my skin as she whispers, “Kiss me.”
Her words are my undoing.
Not like there was any chance I’d refuse her. I can lie out loud all I want, but deep inside I know the truth. I never stopped wanting her. I wanted her back then, and I still want her now. Consequences be damned.
Closing the distance between us, I lock my lips on hers.
It’s completely different from the first time we kissed. Then it was about dominance, control, punishment. Every cell in my body was on fire, the kiss bruising as we batted to see who’ll end up a winner. It was a kiss to conquer.
Not now.
My whole body shudders at that first contact of our lips, warmth spreading slowly through my body. The need to deepen the kiss, to move faster, harder is as present as ever, but I rein it in. This isn’t about me. It’s not about conquest or dominance, it’s about Callie. About what she needs. What we both need.
To heal.
We kiss softly, our lips barely touching. I hold her head in my palms as our mouths move tenderly in tune. I can feel the saltiness on her lips. Her hands cover mine as I let my lips swipe over her face, leaving small kisses and brushing away what’s left of her tears.
“I hate seeing you cry,” I murmur as I kiss her cheek.
“It hurts.”
Her nose.
“So. Fucking. Much.”
The side of her eye.
“Don’t cry, angel.”
Over her scar.
“Hayden…” A shaky breath parts her lips, but she doesn’t move to stop me so I continue. Kissing the path of her scar until I’m back at her mouth, nibbling softly at her bottom lip.
Her fingers dig into my hair, nails scraping at the back of my skull and making the gooseflesh rise on my skin.
I murmur in approval, urging her to continue.
She tilts her head, and my tongue slides inside her hot, sweet mouth. There is no holding back my groan.
God, how did I survive without this for so long?
It feels like ages since our last kiss. Ages since I had my hands on her.
“You okay?” I breathe, needing to know that she’s fine with this. That she wants this as much as I want it. As much as I want her.
“Y-Yes,” Callie whispers, going in for another kiss.
Her tongue slides inside my mouth, our tongues swirling against one another.
She moans softly, her hips rocking against me. My dick is painfully hard, and the feel of her heated pussy isn’t helping the matter. But I don’t stop her.
My hand slides down her back all the way to her ass and pulls her closer to me. She rubs against my cock and we both moan in unison at the sweet friction.
“M-More. I need more,” she says, her hands pulling at my shirt. I help her pull it off, hissing slightly when her cool hands land on my chest.
Callie breaks our kiss, her heated gaze looking over my exposed skin. She sucks her lower lip into her mouth, nibbling at the soft flesh.
“You look gorgeous,” she whispers, the tips of her fingers tracing over my pecs and down my stomach following the lines of my abs.
I push her messy hair back, revealing her face to me. “Not as much as you.”
Moisture fills her eyes, but she blinks it away. Leaning down, she kisses me again. Harder this time. Desperate and needy.
My hand slides underneath her shirt, exploring her soft skin. I want to feel her. See her. Every single inch of her.
I start to raise her shirt over her head, but
she suddenly freezes in my arms.
“What’s wrong?” I breathe, confused but not moving an inch.
“I…” Callie licks her lips, looking away from me.
“Callie?” I whisper, bring her attention back to me. “What’s wrong?”
“My face… it’s not the only scar I have. There are…” She swallows before forcing the words out. “There are more. Many more.”
My grip on her hip tightens and it’s then that I notice it. The contrast between her right and left side. Soft and flawless on one side, rough and ridged on the other.
“I didn’t even notice,” I whisper, forcing myself to loosen my grip on her.
“Yeah, right.” The look she gives me is skeptical.
With the tips of my fingers, I slowly trace the scars on the left side of her body. She wasn’t lying. There really are many of them.
“Do they hurt?”
“Sometimes.” She shrugs like it’s not a big deal, but I know better than to believe it.
“I don’t care about your scars, Callie,” I say firmly. And to prove my point, I kiss the side of her face, right over her scar. “Not this one or any other you might have. You’re a warrior.”
She looks away again. “Most of the time I don’t feel like one.”
“Well, you are. Now, come on, let’s put you to bed.” I get up, Callie in my arms and all. Her hands wrap around my neck, holding tight.
“But…” she protests when I put her in her bed and tuck her in. Her hand shoots out and wraps around my wrist when I try to pull back. “You’re leaving?”
“I…” I run my fingers through my hair. “I’m not sure it’s the best idea to stay.”
“Oh…” There is no missing the look of disappointment that crosses her face, no matter how quickly she tries to look away to hide it.
“Hey.” I cup her cheek, making her turn to face me. “I just think we both need some time to process all of this before…”
Callie nods. “I get it.”
“No, I don’t think you do. I was in love with you, Callie.”
She blinks, clearly surprised with my honesty, but I’m done with bullshit and games. If anything happens between us, it has to be different than the first time around. It has to be real.
“And I used it against you.”
“And this,” I move the finger between the two of us. The space that’s sizzling with surpassed energy. “I’m not sure what to do about this.”
“I shouldn’t have asked you to kiss me. God, Hayden, I’m so…” I press my fingers against her lips, effectively shushing her. I wanted to do it with my mouth, but I know if I kiss her again, there will be no stopping me, no going back.
“I wanted it.” When she doesn’t seem convinced, I repeat, “I did. I do. But I’m not…”
I trail off, not even sure what I want to say.
“Time to think.”
“Yes.”
“Okay,” Callie whispers, snuggling into her pillow. “Hayden?”
“Yes, Callie?”
“Could you…” She nibbles at her lip before letting it pop. The motion makes me question my sanity. “Could you stay with me? Just until I fall asleep?”
There is darkness creeping behind her. The one I was used to seeing, only now I know the reason behind it.
“You don’t have to get in bed with me or anything, just… be there?”
I can see how hard it is for her to ask this.
“Sure.” Popping down on the floor next to her bed, I lean my back against the frame. I hear the comforter rustle as she snuggles into it. From the corner of my eye, I can see her arm hanging off the side of the bed.
Not giving myself time to overthink, I reach out, lacing our fingers together and giving her hand a soft squeeze. She returns the gesture.
“Night, Hayden.”
“Good night, angel.”
Chapter Thirty-One
HAYDEN
I’m startled awake by a sudden noise followed by a blinding light.
What the fuck? I jump in surprise and look around, completely lost for a moment. Where am I? What’s going on?
My back protests the sudden movement, my whole body aching from an uncomfortable position I’ve fallen asleep in. I try to pull my hand back, only to realize I’m holding onto something.
Someone.
Callie.
All the events from the day before come rushing back. Seeing Callie, fighting with her, finding out her parents died, her rushing away, punching the wall, Nix… all of it.
Fuck.
My head falls down on the mattress behind me, eyes zeroing in on the open doorway and the person standing in it, looking at me contemplatively. She’s on the taller side, dressed casually, with her hair pulled in a bun on top of her head. She looks vaguely familiar, but it takes me a bit to place where I might have seen her.
Then I remember—that first party where I saw Callie. And given the fact that she’s standing in the room in the dead of the night, she has to be Callie’s roommate.
I’m not sure who’s more surprised to find the other in the room. She tiptoes in the doorway, unsure if she should enter or go away.
Giving another quick glance over my shoulder, I confirm that Callie is still sound asleep. All that blonde hair is spread behind her back and over her pillows, eyelashes casting a shadow over her cheekbones, lips slightly parted. She looks almost peaceful.
Rustling from the doorway draws my attention.
“Stay,” I whisper, turning back to Callie’s roommate.
She stops and looks between me and Callie, before finally settling on me.
“I can come back later or…”
“No need.” Sudden chatter from the hallway makes us both wince. Callie murmurs something behind me, but she doesn’t seem to wake up. “Come, I’ll go in a second.”
This time, she does as I said, slipping inside. The door falls shut behind her, clouding us in darkness. The sound of feet moving down the hall and quiet chatter is muffled once again.
I hear her soft footsteps as she crosses the short distance and then the small light flips on.
“I didn’t know she had company.”
I wave her off. “I was supposed to be gone, but I fell asleep.”
Reluctantly, I let go of Callie’s hand. It falls with the soft thud. Standing to my feet, I lift my arms in the air to stretch my sore muscles.
Her curious gaze follows me, to the point it makes me feel self-conscious. Something I haven’t felt in a while.
“What?” I ask, dropping my hands down. I should have grabbed my shit and left as soon as that door opened.
“What’s the deal with you and Callie? I thought you guys couldn’t stand each other.”
And isn’t that the question of the day? I run my fingers through my hair, probably making a bigger mess out of it than it is. “Look…”
What’s her name? I’m not sure if it’s something I’m supposed to know or not and I don’t want to seem like a dick for not knowing.
She must see my struggle because she supplies: “Yasmin.”
“Nice to meet you, Yasmin. I’m…”
“Hayden Watson, or so I’ve been told,” she interrupts. While most of the girls would gush over the fact to meet me, she’s completely straight faced.
My eyebrows shoot up. “What else have you been told?”
“Just basics.” She shrugs, as she sits down on her bed and starts pulling stuff out of her backpack. “So what’s your deal with Callie?”
“You’re such a chatty person,” I say dryly.
Yasmin rolls her eyes. “It’s two in the morning. I had to close the coffee shop where I work and study before coming here. Sorry for not meeting your social standards.”
“Sorry,” I have to bite the inside of my cheek to prevent the smile from forming on my lips. “Callie and I… we go way back.”
“So I’ve heard. Still doesn’t explain what you’re doing sitting next to her bed at two in the morning.”
>
I wince at her words. They’re not accusatory per se, but still… I give a look around the room, making sure I didn’t leave anything. There is a lock of hair falling over Callie’s face. She must have moved at some point. Slowly, so not to startle her, I reach forward and brush it behind her ear.
“We’ve had a chat. She asked me to stay until she fell asleep.”
Yasmin nods, like that explains everything. Maybe it does.
“You two close?” I ask, suddenly interested in what kind of relationship these two have. Callie seems like a loner, but then again, there’s that black-haired girl who sits next to her in our Spanish class. Yasmin chooses to ignore me. “She has nightmares most nights. I pretend not to notice, but…”
Nightmares? A chill runs through me. Does she dream about that night? Is she reliving the accident over and over again?
I don’t ask the questions out loud since chances are she won’t be able to give me an answer.
“Why are you telling me this?”
“Because I don’t want to see her get hurt.” Her words are soft, but the warning in them is clear as day. “I know the guys like you and I saw how you looked at her that first night.”
“Guys like me?”
What’s that supposed to mean?
Yasmin gives me a slow once-over, those amber eyes finally reaching mine. There is an edge to them that wasn’t there before. Or maybe I just didn’t see it. “Guys who think the world owes them shit just because they know how to throw a ball.”
“I’m a wide receiver,” I point out, but she waves me off.
“Same difference.”
“Not in my book.”
“Whatever you say. The point is, you better not hurt her.”
“Wasn’t planning on it,” I grit, suddenly irritated with the whole conversation. “I gotta go. Night.”
Refusing to look back at the girl peacefully sleeping in the bed, I leave like I haven’t been there at all.