by Rion, Paige
What would they say if they were here? If they were still alive?
She’ll never know. And that is the fact which continually disappoints her.
“Shhh…it’s okay,” Mrs. Michaels says, and her arms come around her. “I miss them, too. I’m sorry I upset you.” She leans away from Callie for a moment to wipe away her tears. “Maybe I should’ve waited. I just thought… I wasn’t sure I was even going to give it to you until I saw you and Dean together, and then I saw how happy you looked. I wanted you to know I had this…to know that if your thoughts start going down that road—to the future—that you knew you’d have a piece of them with you. But if it’s too much, you don’t need to think about that now.”
Callie presses her face against Mrs. Michaels’ shoulder. “It’s not too much,” she lies, realizing the evening has been nothing but one giant tall tale.
What kind of person lies to the only family she has left?
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
DEAN
Dean throws his car keys onto his desk and flops back on his bed, grateful Emmett’s not there. Now that he’s back from dinner at his parents’ house, he needs time to think, to mull over the events of the evening. Overall, it had been a success, or at least he thought so until Callie went upstairs with his mother. Afterward, she seemed upset and he would’ve sworn by the looks of them—their red-rimmed eyes and splotchy cheeks—that they’d been crying. On the way home, Callie stared out the window, saying little to him. Instead, he had to listen to Jinny’s one-sided conversation with Todd on the phone, and no matter how many times he lightly prodded for information, she revealed nothing.
He lay there, his mind drifting. It’s funny how things work. So many nights he had dreamt of the day Callie would be in his life, not only as a friend, but also as his girlfriend. He pictured her coming to family dinners, much like the one they shared this evening. He imagined her laughing with his mother and Jinny, sharing jokes, and spending time together—everyone he loved all under one roof. The only difference from the way things have always been is that she would go home with him at night. They would share goodnight kisses, warm embraces, and the promise of another day together. Maybe she’d even slip into his bed, or he in hers…
He reaches up and touches his lips. If he tries, he can still feel hers there. He always knew when the day came their first kiss would be amazing. But amazing doesn’t even come close to describing what they shared tonight. He’s not sure there is a word to do Callie Cartwright—her lips, her taste, and touch—justice. Kissing her, feeling her hands in his hair, on his arms—it was like drowning and having someone throw you a life raft at the same time. It was like that first long pull of oxygen into your lungs when you finally break water.
Their kiss was real. She held onto him, trembling at his touch. It wasn’t part of the charade. There’s no way they could share a kiss like that and have it be one-sided. No way.
The fact of the matter is that Callie felt something in that moment. Whether she wanted to admit it or not.
Dean stares at the bottom of Emmett’s bunk, clenching his jaw, remembering what Callie said to his mother at dinner—when asked how she realized she had feelings for him.
It was like someone flicked a switch. In a room that had once been dark, where I could only see shapes and shadows, suddenly everything turned bright, and I could see… I saw him.
The words are etched in his heart, and he can only hope there might be a grain of truth to them. The way she refused to meet his gaze. The soft tenor of her voice… Could she feel something for me?
If she does. Even if it’s a fraction of what he feels, well, it would all be worth it—this whole scheme, lying…
I won’t drop the ball now. Not if her eyes are just beginning to open. Once and for all, I’m going to make her see me…
He just needs to do it before Maya ruins everything.
#
Dean works the early shift at Buzz, then returns to the dorm to change. He pulls on a pair of dark jeans and his navy blue Pitt hoodie, then stands in front of the mirror, inspecting his reflection.
What does Callie see when she looks at me?
Running a hand over his four-day stubble, he considers shaving, changing into something dressier, something she’d consider stylish and fashionable—but then, that wouldn’t be him. He can clean up damn good if he needs to, but he’s a casual kind of guy. He may as well keep it real. After all, he wants Callie to fall for him, not an artificial version of himself.
He grabs a bottle of cologne out of his dresser and sprays some over his body, then fingers his hair into place with some gel. He’s ready to go, so he grabs his wallet off his desk and pockets his car keys.
He makes the five-minute drive to Callie’s apartment and gives a quick knock on the door before he pushes it open and lets himself in. The sunny apartment welcomes him, as always. Wiping his shoes on the rug by the door, he spots Jinny making her way into the kitchen.
“Is Callie here?” he asks.
“Yeah.” Jinny sets the glass she’s holding on the counter and moves over to him.
“How is she today? She seemed…I don’t know…bothered by something last night.”
Jinny glances behind her, as if checking to make sure Callie hasn’t appeared suddenly behind them. “I think something upset her. I’m pretty sure it’s the time of year, about hanging with Mom, and…well, you know…”
Dean nods. Of course. The unmentionable. They don’t discuss the accident or her parents. It’s been that way the last three years. In the first year after their deaths, Callie unraveled and it seemed all anyone could talk about. She became a shell of the version of the carefree teenager she had been when they were alive, and then suddenly, as if her grief had withered and dried, she stopped crying. She cut it off so quickly, going from broken to seemingly healed in a heartbeat. Only the ones closest to her knew better. They saw the ways in which she still drained her emotions. But the moment she seemed better, it was as if some unspoken pact was formed. No one spoke about the accident or her parents unless she brought it up, which was never.
Jinny pokes him in the arm. “What happened with you guys? I mean, how’s it going?” she whispers.
“We kissed.”
Jinny rolls her eyes. “Obviously. And?”
Dean shrugs, never one to kiss and tell—especially with his sister and her best friend. That would just be creepy. “And I don’t know. Mom interrupted us. I’m not sure where we stand. We haven’t even had the chance to be alone since then.”
Jinny’s eyes pop open wide. “What? You haven’t talked to her at all?”
He shakes his head. “Nope.”
“So, for all you know, that kiss blew her away. And if it did…” Jinny trails off, staring at the floor. When her eyes travel back to him, she gasps. “If it did, she’ll probably think it meant little or nothing to you because—”
“Because I supposedly want Maya. I know.” Dean lets out the breath he hadn’t realized he’d drawn in.
“Crap. When are you going to tell her?”
“I don’t know. I need to make sure it’s the right time. If I tell her too early, I’ll scare her off… I just don’t know.” He runs his hands through his hair, completely destroying the gelled style. “I need some time with her today.”
“Hmmm… Now that I think about it, she’s been a little out of sorts today. Flighty. Maybe that’s a good sign.”
Dean bites the inside of his cheek. “Yeah. Who knows. It’s coming up on the anniversary. I just need to find out if that’s the only thing occupying her mind, or if I have a piece of it.”
Please let there be more.
Jinny starts to speak, but stops when Callie enters the room. She’s wearing leggings and a stretched-out sweatshirt that falls off her shoulder, exposing her bare skin.
“Hey,” Callie says and stops in her tracks. A smile flashes over her face. “What’s up?” she says as she makes her way toward them. As she nears, Dean can see the pl
aces where stress—or lack of sleep—have nested in the shadows below her eyes.
She meets his gaze and the hope that ramps up in his chest can’t be forced down. His heart is on the line, and he’s praying it won’t get crushed.
Jinny steps back and hooks a thumb in the direction of her bedroom. “Um. I need to, er, I have some things… I’m leaving.” She pivots on her feet and rushes to her bedroom.
Dean rolls his eyes inwardly. Way to not be obvious.
Dean shoves his hands in his pockets. “So…” Energy radiates between them to the point of suffocating.
Where should I start?
Her jewel-blue eyes blink back at him. All he can do is shift his gaze from her eyes to her mouth. Lips-mouth-kiss. Lips-mouth-kiss. Lips-mouth-kiss. It’s all he can think about.
He forces his gaze away from her and clears his throat. “I think we need to get out of here,” he croaks.
Callie narrows her eyes, seeming to be taken aback.
Dean continues before she can say anything. “I know you’re having a hard time and I don’t know what brought that on last night, whether it was just the time and place, but I think you need to get your mind off of everything. Let’s forget the whole girlfriend thing for today. I don’t want to think about any of it. So let me take you out and let’s just have a good time.”
“Like a date?”
He can feel his confidence waver. The part of him that’s hidden in the shadows the last seven years wants to keep hiding, but he won’t allow it. “Sure. Or we don’t have to label it. It’s just two people spending time with each other, enjoying each other’s company.”
The corner of Callie’s mouth curls up in a smile. “Okay, sure. I’d like that.” She pauses and runs a hand over the low ponytail that lays over her shoulder. “I need to get out. But I should go get ready first.”
“No,” he blurts, before he can stop himself. “Let’s just go. You’re perfect like that.”
The only times he can recall seeing Callie dressed so casually is during a cleaning spree or a workout, but he loves it. She’s more vulnerable this way, her guard somehow lowered. This is the real Callie, and he wants her. Not her fancy clothes, designer labels, or anything else she hides behind.
“I can’t go like this,” she says, glancing down at her clothes, her expression horrified.
“You can, and you will.” He grabs her hands and leads her toward the door.
“Wait,” she protests, but he half drags her to the entryway closet as she tries to run for her bedroom.
He flings open the closet door and grabs a down coat and hat. Tugging the hat over her head, she laughs when he starts to force her arms into the coat. “I feel like you’re dressing a child.”
“No. But we’re going out, and I want you just like this.”
“I never go out like this,” she says between laughs.
“Exactly. What’s wrong with that picture? You’re a college student. You need to let loose like the rest of us. Be grungy once in a while.”
“Oh, is that what you call it? I at least need my purse.”
No way. You’ll use that as an excuse to go to your bedroom to freshen up or grab some clothes.
“I’m paying. It’s a date, remember?” he says, then winks at her, enjoying the stunned way she stares at him as he gently guides her second arm in the coat, then zips it up.
They’re standing close now. Face to face and only a foot apart. He can smell her, the familiar scent of spice and lavender. He brushes aside the hair in her eyes, tucking it under the hat, and whispers, “You look perfect. Beautiful.”
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
CALLIE
He brushes the hair from her face, his fingers searing right through all her pretenses, and she knows in those blue-gray eyes that he sees her. Maybe for the first time, she realizes that he might see her better than anyone else, even Jinny. He feels her pain, knows she’s unravelling and that’s why he’s doing this—taking her out to relieve her from her self-imprisonment.
But what he doesn’t know... What I can’t tell him is that part of the reason I’m reeling from yesterday is not thoughts of my parents, or their anniversary, the photo albums, or wedding dress. No. It’s thoughts of our kiss.
She keeps replaying it over and over in her head like a worn-out commercial, thinking that she’ll see something that negates or explains the way it felt.
Our kiss couldn’t possibly have been real. It had to have been some sort of emotionally-driven response. A result of nerves. A freak physical response. But as she stands there, staring into his eyes, the warmth of his fingers on her skin, she knows that there’s no reasoning the heat behind their lip-lock. The heart-thumping, nerves on fire, stomach-flopping, dizzying reaction is real. And she can’t make sense of it.
“There. Ready,” he says, clearing his throat and tapping his nose with her finger. The gesture is playful and she can’t help but feel Dean’s hiding his emotions with it.
“Where are we going?” she asks.
Dean and I are going on a date. A real date. But he has his sights set on someone else, she reminds herself. And that thought is worst of all.
An image of Maya, with her inky crop of hair and flawless skin, poking her in the chest with fire in her eyes, pops in her head and Callie grimaces.
“Are you hungry?”
His question brings her back to the present, and she has to laugh, grateful for the interruption of her thoughts. The last thing she wants to think about is Maya and how much she despises her.
“Of course, any date with you would start with food. But, sure. I haven’t eaten yet,” she says.
“Then we’re going to Primanti Brothers.”
He grabs her hand as she wrinkles her nose. “I’ve never understood the reverence of that place. Coleslaw and French fries on a sandwich? It’s just not right.”
Dean gasps and turns his shocked gaze to her. “You’re not a Pittsburgian if you don’t like Primanti’s.”
“Pittsburgian? That’s not even a word.”
“It is now. But, whatever. How can you be from Pittsburgh and not appreciate a true quality sammich?”
She raises her hands in defense. “I am very much a Pittsburgian, as you say; I just prefer my sides on the side. So don’t go all crazy if you see me picking my fries off and dipping them in ketchup.”
“That’s blasphemy.” Dean stops dead in his tracks and clutches at his chest, as if he’s wounded. “And you’re saying that now. But you’ve never experienced When Pigs Fly.” They begin to walk again, coming up on Dean’s car in the parking lot.
“I’m afraid to even ask.”
“Their latest masterpiece. Turkey, ham, bacon, all piled high with a fried egg, slaw, French fries, cheese, and tomato. It’s like heaven between bread.”
She gets in his car as he opens her door. “Whatever you say,” she says, smiling.
#
They sit in a booth. The soft glow of light illuminates the restaurant while the clatter of dishes and chatter of patrons serve as the backdrop to the iconic city diner. On Callie’s plate the second half of her sandwich—if you can call this monstrosity that—remains uneaten.
Dean wipes his hands on a napkin as he chews the final bite of his food. “Well?” he asks, eyeing her under the brim of his Pitt baseball cap.
“I have to admit it was pretty good.”
“Ha!” He smiles. “Told you.”
“I have no idea how a normal person can eat this much, though.”
“You’re not going to finish it?”
She shakes her head, grimacing.
“That’s sacrilege, but whatever. I’m just getting started. Next we’re going to the Pittsburgh Popcorn Company and getting dill pickle popcorn, then to Crazy Mocha, where we will feed our caffeine addictions with a huge coffee to wash it all down.”
“That’s a gross combination.”
Dean shrugs. “Hey, it’s what I do. Don’t knock the combo until you’ve tried it. It’s surpr
isingly pleasing to the palette.”
Callie laughs. “Whatever you say.”
#
Dean reaches down and grabs her hand as they enter the Pittsburgh Popcorn Company. It’s funny how that one gesture—something they’ve been doing for weeks now—makes her stomach flop. But then, all the other times were for show. This is for real. And her proximity with Dean, this date, makes her wonder if maybe they do have something between them.
There are so many questions bouncing around her head that she can’t keep up. Does he still want Maya? Does he want me, or am I imagining it? Was there truth to his mother’s words last night? Is there even anything here, or have I completely lost touch with reality? I mean, this is Dean we’re talking about.
They stop in front of the glass display of popcorn and Dean rubs his hands together. “Okay, now for the dill.”
Callie wrinkles her nose. “Are you really going to get dill pickle popcorn to go with coffee?”
“I’m telling you, it’s surprisingly delicious. However, I sense your distaste, and because I’m a gentleman I will also let you pick a flavor.”
Callie laughs. That’s the thing about Dean; he makes anyone feel comfortable.
When was the last time I laughed this much?
“Well, thank you for the consideration.” Callie taps her lips and moves around the small storefront checking out the varieties, both fresh and pre-bagged. “Oooh. Yes.”
He comes up behind her and wraps his arms around her, pulling her gently into his chest. The move is so unexpected, Callie freezes.
“See something you want?” he whispers in her ear.
His voice sends chills shooting through her body from head to toe. Her heart raps a staccato beat against her ribs, and the air seems to have suddenly been sucked from the room.
His chest is firm and warm. It takes a moment for her to wrap her head around the fact that this is Dean’s embrace she sinks into. She releases her pent-up breath and breathes him in. He smells of sandalwood and something softer, citrus.