by Rion, Paige
“Bozo’s not with you, is he?” Jinny asks as rudely as possible.
Emmett’s forehead furrows. “Who? Dean? Nah, he went to your place when I left to come here. He said he needed to talk to you,” he says, glancing at Callie. “Looks like he’ll be pissed when he gets there and you guys are gone.” Emmett smiles. “Thank God I decided to go out!”
“Yes, thank God,” Jinny mutters.
“See! I knew someday you’d be worshiping in my presence.” He grabs her hand and brings it to his lips.
Jinny scoffs, but Callie notices the way she lets him hold her hand longer than necessary and smiles. Sidling up next to Emmett, Callie places her hand on his shoulder. “What would you say to spending the night with us and treating us ladies to a few drinks?” She raises her brow. Tonight, she has no shame.
Emmett smiles, glancing from one to the other. “I say, what’s your poison?”
“That’s what I’m talkin’ about,” Callie quips.
Two cosmos and three shots later, walking in a straight line seems impossible. Callie sways as they move from the bar to the dance floor, another cosmo nestled comfortably in her hand. The fog of alcohol has slowed her brain to a sluggish pace—one where she’s not thinking much of anything except that moment. In her haze, everything is better. Nothing matters and what seemed so dire hours before is a distant memory.
She raises her arms above her head and begins to dance off-beat to the music. “Whooo! Liberation!” she screams, and Jinny just laughs.
Chuckling, Emmett nudges Jinny. “What’s she talking about?”
Before she can answer, Callie’s placing her arms around both Jinny and Emmett, only staggering slightly. “I’m talking,” she says, slurring slightly and breathing heavily, “about my liberation from men. From The Unmentionable One.”
Emmett raises a brow. “O-kay.”
“She’s talking about—ow! What the hell?” Jinny swings around to see Mr. 1970s, up close and personal. “He just—”
“Did you just smack my best friend’s ass?” Callie slurs.
Before Jinny and Emmett can react, Callie throws her drink at the man, then reaches next to her and grabs Emmett’s beer bottle and chucks that, too, glass and all. It shatters in applause behind Retro Man, but not before Callie gives him a little shove. Or, at least he tries, but his scrawny frame is deceiving and it’s like trying to move a brick wall.
Callie stumbles, and before anyone else can react, two hulking arms come around her and Jinny like a vice. “Let’s go. You’re outta here.”
The giant bouncer begins to lead them through the throng of people. “Hey, what about that asshole?” Callie yells, nodding behind her. But Emmett’s already on him. She gets one last glance before being thrown outside into the cold, but it’s enough to see the way Emmett stands toe-to-toe with the man, sidesteps one sorry punch, then delivers a blow of his own, connecting squarely to the guy’s nose, before two more bouncers appear to lead him out as well.
“Did you see that?” Callie asks excitedly.
But Jinny says nothing as the bouncers escort a grinning Emmett outside. He raises his hands in surrender and steps back of his own accord as the huge men eye him, stone-faced, as if he might suddenly throw another punch.
“Well, ladies, I have to say this night has been nothing but interesting,” he says. “Getting thrown out of a bar, that’s a first for me.”
“Surprising,” Jinny mutters, but her usual venom doesn’t stick.
“What now?” Emmett asks, as if prolonging this evening is nothing but normal.
“Food.” Callie nods with wide eyes, as if this is the best idea she’s ever had. “The taco joint.”
Shrugging, Jinny says, “Why not?”
The three of them walk two blocks in the cold until they arrive at the taco place, with the flashing neon sign proclaiming, “Drive-in open until 3 a.m.”
“The restaurant isn’t open inside,” Callie says, and the three of them walk to the side of the squat building to the takeout window.
“Do these things work without a car?” Jinny asks.
Emmett shrugs. “Guess we’ll find out.”
Callie walks up to the window, directly in front of the menu and the speaker, but nothing happens. She gives it a little knock. “Hello? I want some tacos. Anybody there?” Then, turning to the others, “Damn, it’s not working.”
“What if we both walk over it?” Jinny suggests.
In her drunken stupor, this seems like a grand idea to Callie. “Yes! Let’s try that.”
Both women stand back about a hundred yards to get a good starting run. “Ready… Go!” Jinny yells, and they both jet, running as hard as they can with the balance of preschoolers over the thick black line in front of the menu that signals a customer, then wait, but still nothing.
“What if we hop on it?” Emmett suggests.
“Okay, maybe,” Callie says. “Come on.”
All three of them jump on the black line, but still, to no avail, the speaker doesn’t work. Then, as if it’s another gift from the gods, a rusted out pickup truck slowly pulls up behind them. “Yes! My prayers have been answered.” Callie lifts her hands and gazes to the sky in prayer, then shouts, “Taco time. Emmett, ask this guy if he’ll drive us through. Come on.”
Emmett shrugs. “All right.” He moves to the truck and Callie watches as he speaks quickly with the man, who looks to be about the same age, maybe a few years older.
“Let’s go.” Emmett waves them on.
Callie grabs Jinny’s hand. Jinny looks slightly more concerned than she about going with a stranger, but the minute the three of them climb into the bed of the truck and not the cab, Callie can see her expression relax.
They order their tacos straight from the bed truck before the man drops them off in front of the restaurant with their food, bidding them a good night. Callie takes a bite of her taco, groans like it’s filet mignon, and chews with her mouth full. “Best night ever!”
Emmett laughs. “It certainly ranks up there as one of the most interesting. I’ve never seen you two drunk before.”
“I’m not drunk,” Jinny says, unconvincingly, as she misses her mouth and sneers at him.
“You just hide it better,” he says, winking at her. She blushes.
“How lame was Mr. 1970s?” Callie laughs hysterically, nearly choking on her bite of food. “I mean, who wears that much polyester anymore? And the sideburns. Seriously?” Jinny joins in and the two of them laugh until they cry.
Wiping at her face, Callie straightens and says, “Hey, you know what I’ve never done before? It’s supposed to be a college tradition.”
“What?” Emmett asks, smiling and looking clearly amused.
“Streak.”
Emmett chokes. “Wh-what?”
“Seriously. This is my night. It’s my fresh start. My new awakening. It’s a rebirth,” she says, an excited gleam in her eyes. “My liberation from the chains of love.”
“Um—” Emmett starts, but Callie shushes him.
“We’re going. Right now. Who’s with me?” Callie stands and pulls her shirt off first, followed by her pants, revealing her matching pink underwear and bra, her tacos forgotten. “I don’t even feel the cold!” she screams.
“Uh, Callie?” Jinny says, but before she can say anything else, Callie’s jetting off down the street, screaming the entire time. See? I can do this. I can forget Dean! Easy peasy.
Glancing behind her, she sees Jinny and Emmett scramble to their feet to follow. Five minutes later she also sees the squad car, with its flashing red and blue lights, pull up behind her as she runs.
CHAPTER SIX
DEAN
“You what?” His head pounds like the ancient chant of a million drums. “Jinny, please tell me I heard you wrong.” He waits, but he’s only met with silence. “Hello?”
“You heard right.”
Her voice is meek, as it should be, Dean muses.
“So, let me get this straight.”
He draws in a deep breath, trying to calm himself. “You, Emmett, and Callie went out, got drunk, got kicked out of a bar, then went running around the city half-naked, and got arrested for disorderly conduct and public intoxication?”
“Yeah. That pretty much sums it up. Listen, can you just forget the lecture and come and get us, please? They’re holding us all together in the front of the station, but not for long, and it smells like sweat, coffee, and hot dogs in here, and it’s freaking me out. Plus, there’s this girl they brought, with a shaved head, that was eyeing me up on the way to her cell, and if you don’t come soon, they’re going to put me in there with her and I’m afraid she’s a little too interested in me. I might not leave a lesbian-virgin. Is that what you want for me? To be a prison wife? This isn’t Orange is the New Black!”
“Wha—never mind. That is so messed up.” Dean runs a hand over his eyes.
“Listen, if I wanted the lecture, I would’ve called Mom.”
“Fine. Of course I’ll be there. Give me five minutes.”
“Thank you,” Jinny says, and the relief in her voice is palpable.
“And Jinny?”
“Yeah?”
“How’s Callie?” He stares at the floor as he asks this, guilt gnawing to his bones that he has yet to tell her the truth.
“How do you think?”
Nodding, Dean swallows over the lump in his throat. “Yeah. Okay, I’ll be there in a few. Bye.”
He hangs up and grabs his keys from the dresser, then heads out into the brisk a.m.
* * *
Twenty excruciating minutes later, Emmett, Callie, and Jinny are in Dean’s custody. The four of them ride in silence, all of them straight-faced and quiet, three of them far more sober than they were over an hour ago.
Dean pulls up outside Jinny and Callie’s apartment, and he waits for Jinny to get out before turning to Emmett. “Hey, do you mind…”
“No problem. I’m dying to walk my jailbait to the door,” he says with a smirk, sliding out after Jinny. “Yo, Jinny! Wait up,” he yells, jogging after her. “The Unmentionable One needs a minute.”
What the hell?
Shifting his gaze to Callie, he watches her stare out the window after Emmett’s retreating form. “He never stops. Does he?” she murmurs.
“Callie, how could you do what you did tonight? It was reckless. I expect that kind of idiotic crap from Emmett, but you and Jinny? You could’ve gotten hurt.” A million grizzly images—of what ifs—enter his mind in frightening clarity. “Or attacked on the street, or hit by a car, or…” he trails off, quieting when he notices the subtle vibrations of her shoulder.
Is she crying?
Her shoulders shake harder and a sob rips through the quiet confines of the car. Placing a hand on her shoulder, he gently turns her toward him. He would do anything to stop her crying. Anything.
He watches as the tears roll silently down her cheeks, each one a shard to the heart. “Hey, Callie, I—“
“I had no family to call. None. Jinny was with me. All I had was you. That’s it. There’s no one else that would’ve come, that I even could’ve called that would care. And how sad is that? What happens if one of us moves away? Or you get a girlfriend, or a wife, or—”
“Hey, shhhh…” He presses her into his shoulder, letting her tears melt into his shirt. Closing his eyes, he pictures her pain and tries to absorb it. Because if he could take even an ounce of it as his own to relieve some of her burden, he would. “You have tons of people that care. Don’t even say that.”
“I don’t,” she insists, shaking her head.
“Your boss. You two are close. He would’ve come,” Dean points out, knowing it’s weak.
“Yeah, and then I really would’ve lost my job.”
“My parents. They’re your family too, Callie. We all are.”
He lifts her face from the crook in his neck and stares at her. Even with her pink nose, red eyes, hair a tangled mess, and booze on her breath, she’s the most perfect thing he’s ever seen.
He runs a hand through her hair. “Besides, I’m not going anywhere,” he whispers. “We’re here for each other. We help each other out. It’s what we’ve always done, because we care. I’ll always be here for you.”
Sniffling, Callie dries her eyes and opens the door. “You can’t promise that,” she says, and without another word, she exits his car and runs for the apartment.
CHAPTER SEVEN
CALLIE
They sit in the lobby of Langley Hall. It’s been their regular hangout these last few weeks, since Maya has a noon biology class. Normally they cuddle up on a chair together, chat, and wait for her to exit the building, but hopefully not before Maya gets an eyeful of Callie and Dean together.
But today Callie’s not in the mood.
She sits in a chair across from Dean, and despite the rapid thrumming of her heart, her head is pounding like a gong, and she can’t even manage to muster a smile, let alone act like they’re in love. Because the act is all gone. In its place lies reality—her feelings are now real and unreciprocated.
They make small talk for a few minutes, both of them neglecting to mention the events of last night and Callie’s short stint in the slammer. Callie, because she’s far too mortified, and Dean because—well, who knows why. Whatever the reason, the conversation soon feels forced and Callie can’t take the mundaneness of it any longer. This isn’t them. They always have something to talk about, to laugh about.
What if I’ve ruined us? What if I’ve destroyed our friendship with my feelings and my ridiculous behavior, and nothing will ever be the same again?
A small crease burrows in the space between Dean’s brow and he leans forward in his chair. “Callie, I can’t do this anymore.”
That catches her attention.
She freezes, her heart in her throat. For a moment, she thinks he means this charade—Operation Get the Girl. And for a split second, after the shock of his words subsides, she’s relieved. And though this reaction surprises her at first, because wanting Operation Get the Girl to be over means no more holding Dean’s hand, no more kisses, no more touching, pretending, it makes sense.
I could move on. Because when the time comes for Dean and Maya to get back together, at least I wouldn’t have a front row seat.
Her stomach sinks, despite the tinge of relief. “What do you mean?” she asks.
He reaches across the coffee table and grabs her hand, enveloping it in his. “This isn’t easy.”
No, it’s not, she thinks as he strokes her knuckles with his thumb, and hating the way her heart pumps a little bit harder with each touch.
“Yesterday at Buzz, I didn’t say what I needed to… I haven’t been completely honest with you,” he continues.
His gaze meets hers and she can feel his apprehension. It’s thick, rising in the air around them like an impenetrable smog, making it difficult to breathe, choking her. And suddenly she’s afraid of what he’s about to tell her.
“Callie, I—”
“Emmett!” Callie yells, two octaves higher than normal. She’s waving vigorously at him from across the room while her pulse thrums in her chest like a hummingbird’s wings. Swallowing, she watches Dean out of the corner of her eye, the way he exhales like someone just pulled a plug from his lungs, the way he sinks back into his chair.
She’s a coward for interrupting him, but her stomach’s churning like a witch’s brew and she’s not sure that she has the strength to hear whatever it is he has to say.
Coming to a stop in front of them, Emmett grins at Dean and nods. “What’s your problem, dude? You look like shit.”
“Thanks, Emmett. It’s always a pleasure. And you have fantastic timing, by the way.” He glares at him, but Callie just keeps smiling uncomfortably through it all.
Emmett simply laughs. “At least somebody’s happy to see me.” Turning his smile to Callie, he says, “Hey there, beautiful. Whenever you’re ready to break up with this loser, let me know and y
ou can see what it’s like to date a real man.”
Next to her, Dean grunts and mutters, “Nice to see you two are all cozy.”
Callie glances at Dean. She notes the scowl on his face and the knot in his forehead, but for the first time that morning, Callie can feel her mood lift. Maybe that’s exactly what she needs. Not Emmett, of course. But maybe getting her mind off Dean is the solution. Maybe dating someone else is the key to Operation Get Over the Guy.
CHAPTER EIGHT
DEAN
Dean serves up his last coffee for the day. It’s already the middle of another week. He’s tried to tell Callie the truth dozens of times and failed. Chicken shit doesn’t even begin to describe…
Every time he’s come close to telling her, all his old insecurities and nerves would come flooding back, embracing him like an old friend. In his mind, he’d become Jinny’s little brother again instead of the man who’s trying to win Callie’s heart, and he hates himself for it. That, or the tiniest of distractions would send him off course. Like her getting arrested—a biggie. Or Callie spotting Emmett at Langley Hall or Maya making a sudden and unexpected appearance. And what’s worse is that he can feel a sort of tension building between him and Callie, some silent rubber band being pulled too tight, ready to snap at any moment. Whether it’s just his apprehension he’s feeling or something else, he’s not sure, but he can feel her slipping from his fingers. And not even the comfort of Buzz—a place, a job he’s come to love—can ease the gnawing in the pit of his stomach. Not with Callie on her way over here. Not knowing that she has something she wants to discuss with him, instead of it being the other way around.
The door chimes, and in walks Callie. Dean swallows over the lump in his throat. She’s gorgeous, as usual, but the bounce to her step is missing and lines crease the plains of her normally unmarred forehead. Moving from behind the counter, Dean yells to Sara, who is stocking shelves in the back room, that he’ll see her tomorrow.
“I’m glad you called,” Dean says as he walks up to her, and lightly tugs on a lock of her hair.