Claiming Callie: Part two

by Rion, Paige

  “Do you? See something you want?” she whispers back.

  “I do.”

  The protective circle of his arms scatters her thoughts. She can’t think. She has no idea what she was looking at a second ago. The only thing she’s aware of in this moment is him.

  She turns in his arms so that she’s facing him. His eyes are on her, and in them she sees an emotion she’s never noticed before. Longing? Hope? Need? “Dean—”

  “Can I help you?” a voice next to them asks.

  Callie blinks. It takes her a moment, but she glances to her right to see the young woman behind the counter staring at them. And in the split second before she says something else, Callie realizes that to her and other passersby she and Dean look like any other young couple.

  “Um,” Callie starts. A blush rises in her cheeks, but Dean jumps in and saves her.

  He drops her arms and grabs her hand again, gesturing around the store. “Pick your pleasure. I believe you found something you liked, before I interrupted you. What’ll it be?”

  Callie looks at him, grateful for his grace, and smiles. “The chocolate waffle cone.”

  “Blech.” Dean makes an exaggerated face. “You’re such a girl.”

  He orders their popcorn while she laughs. Then they head to Crazy Mocha. They make themselves comfortable at a little table next to the windows so they can people watch while they eat and drink. Dean begins to eat his dill popcorn, then takes a sip of his coffee.

  “See. That’s just proof that you’re a garbage disposal,” Callie points out as he shoves a handful of popcorn in his mouth.

  She brings a piece of the flavor she picked to her mouth and chews. When Dean swallows, she hands him a piece. “Here, try this.”

  He obeys and eats the sweet concoction and grins. “Okay. That. Is. Amazing.”

  “So, my popcorn wins?”

  Dean grips his coffee and grins. “Geez. Do there have to be winners and losers here? The dill is a totally different experience. It’s robust. Bold. Manly,” he says, deepening his voice. “You won’t be tempted to eat an entire bagful like your devilish chocolatey stuff.”

  Callie laughs. “Okay, fine.”

  Callie nibbles on another piece of popcorn and lets her gaze fall on the cluster of brightly-colored canvases on the wall emblazoned with the coffee shop’s logo—a goat holding a mug of coffee—and smiles, thinking this is the perfect place for Dean. She hadn’t really thought about it until now, but his entire being is just like that goat with the mug. Easy. Goofy. Bright and joyful. At least to her that’s what he’s been, like some giant ray of sunshine in her life, bathing her in his light and his warmth.

  It’s so funny how you don’t notice these things and then, BAM.

  “So, how are things at GG Financial? Have you talked to your boss yet? Told him you took care of some of your debt?”

  Callie’s smile fades. Biting her lip, she squirms in her seat. “Not yet.”

  “I was just wondering if you’d want to clear the air and see if that was going to be enough money. I thought maybe you said something to him.”

  “Well, I don’t think it’s going to be that easy. He said something to me a week ago that makes me think he expects more than a lower figure. I think he’s going to pay attention more to my actions. My spending, and what I do with my money from now till then. GGF actually has a sister company. I don’t know…I’m pretty sure he thinks I should consider them. And who knows? Maybe my place isn’t here.”

  Dean sits back in his seat, his face a mask of concern. “But, I thought… GGF is your dream. Have you been...spending?” He squints at the question, as if he’s afraid to hear her answer.

  Callie twists her mug in her hands. “Actually, I haven’t since you lent me that money. Nothing. It’s pretty miraculous for me, but…” How could she tell him that the money he gave her is just sitting in a savings account? That she hasn’t actually used it yet?

  She had been waiting to see if this scheme with Maya actually worked, if she was able to help him. Only then would she use the money. It seemed the fair way to handle things. At the time he gave it to her, she didn’t want to take advantage of him, and now… Well, her insides are so mixed up, and if these feelings she’s having about him have any substance to them at all…

  If there’s any chance of being with him—God, did I really just think that?—or even if there’s not, how could I use his money, feeling the way I do about him right now? It seems wrong somehow.

  Furthermore, she doesn’t want him with Maya. She’s not right for him, and regardless of whether he may or may not have some semblance of feelings for Callie, the irony of the situation isn’t lost on her. The only way to keep the money and her chance at GGF is to ensure Dean wins Maya’s heart. And that’s a thought that inexplicably tears her apart.

  Knowing Dean would be angry with her if he knew she has yet to use the money, she says, “Mr. Bucek seemed like he was pushing their sister company. They had a representative in the office from there, and I just got the feeling he was trying to tell me I should consider them. I feel like he’s setting me up, letting me know ahead of time that I probably can’t make it work there.”

  “Where is this other place?”

  Callie swallows and moves her finger across the image on the mug. “California.”

  Dean’s face pales at that. Is he upset at the thought of me leaving? Or because he worries his money has been wasted?

  Callie adds, “I’m not really considering it. I don’t know what’s going to happen. Right now, I’m still determined to somehow win back my position at GGF.”

  Dean nods and takes another sip of his coffee. A tiny crease forms between his brows, and her fingers itch to lean forward and smooth the small line with her fingers. She wants to erase any worries he has.

  “So, what’s next on the agenda?” she asks.

  Dean glances at his watch. “Well, there’s somewhere I wanna take you. It’s almost dusk, which is perfect. Then maybe after we could catch a movie? Since, thus far, this date is all about Pittsburgh traditions, I think a traditional date activity is fitting. We can gorge ourselves on buttery popcorn until we want to puke. What do you say?”

  “Yes, to the movie. No, to the popcorn.”

  Dean shakes his head, frowning. “No. You can’t go to a movie theater and not get popcorn. That’s not an option.”

  “What do you call this?” Callie waves her hand at the popcorn on the table.

  “This is different.” Dean waves her away. “Besides, I’m making this up as we go, and I didn’t know we were going to the movies. It’ll be at least an hour from now and it’s a must for movie theater dates. You get a big tub of ridiculously overpriced corn with extra butter and eat it until you feel completely and utterly nauseous. Like you might puke. That’s pure movie theater tradition.”

  “Whatever you say. What movie?” Callie raises a brow.

  “We could go see the new Will Ferrell one.”

  Callie groans. “I can’t think of anyone less funny.”

  Dean gapes. “Will Ferrell? Not funny?” He grabs her bag of popcorn and inspects it. “Is there crack in this stuff?”

  Callie snatches the bag back. “He is so not funny.”

  Dean’s eyes widen, his expression so serious she has to bite the inside of her cheek not to laugh.

  “I have one word for you,” he says. “Elf.”

  “Terrible.”

  He straightens in his seat, his eyes wide as the moon. “How could you not like Elf?”

  “Okay, Elf is probably his best movie. I’ll admit it, but even it’s a little macabre. Didn’t I get you that for Christmas one year?”

  “As a matter of fact, you did.”

  The things we do for love.

  OMG! You did not just think that. Thank God you didn’t say it.

  Dean takes another sip of his coffee, eyeing her in silence, and Callie can feel the horror wash over her. Suddenly, her chair seems to drop out from under he
r.

  Wait, you didn’t say that out loud, did you?

  “Okay, change of plans,” Dean says, and Callie almost sighs in relief. She takes a deep breath and waits for him to continue. “We’ll go to the special place I mentioned first, since I want to get there before nightfall. Then we’re grabbing my copy of Elf, and we’ll go back to your place and watch it, so that I can prove the genius that is Will Ferrell in an elf costume. Deal?”

  Relieved, Callie smiles and says, “Deal.”

  #

  They’re on Grandview Avenue. Callie knows now where Dean’s taking her. The Mon, or known to older locals as Coal Hill. It’s hands down the best place for a panoramic view of the city. Expecting him to park at one of the overlooks, she startles when he slows down in front of a huge Victorian home. It’s peeling paint and weathered eves give it an untended appearance, as well as the old apartment building that sits next to it, but both nest on the precipice of Mount Washington, more than making up for their lack of outward appearances.

  Dean parks just outside the home. “Don’t worry. I know the owner. Come on.”

  He gets out of the car and moves around to her side, where he opens her door and reaches for her hand, which she gives him. The concrete overlook of the city comes into sight as they move past the front of the house. Expecting to stand at the overlook, Callie halts when he suddenly stops at the side of the house and turns to her.

  “Do you trust me?” he murmurs.

  Callie raises a brow and glances around her. There’s no one around; only the passing of cars and the distant sound of traffic indicates the existence of life around them. She turns to Dean and nods.

  “Okay, then. Up we go,” he says, and for the first time Callie’s gaze catches on a thin metal ladder extending up the side of the house.

  Dean places his feet and hands on the rungs and begins to climb.

  “Um. What are we doing?” her voice quakes. She’s not particularly afraid of heights. Still, the idea of climbing up a monstrous house on the edge of a cliff is a bit disarming.

  “It’s the best view of the city. I promise.” He reaches a hand down to her, beckoning her with the curl of his fingers.

  Inhaling, Callie squeezes her eyes tight a moment—here goes nothing—then begins to climb.

  Dean makes it to the roof and he reaches a hand down to her as she ascends the side of the house. She clasps it in her own as she reaches the top of the ladder and allows him to help steady her as she steps up onto the old slate roof.

  Dean grips both of her arms and ducks his chin so that he meets her gaze. “Okay, stay low so that your body’s centered as you walk, and don’t look down. Not yet. You’re not going to fall. We just need to move a couple feet. Got it?”

  Callie nods rapidly, swallowing down the fear that has lodged itself at the base of her throat. She follows Dean, his hands still gripped in hers as he guides them several feet to the left. “Okay, now you can sit.”

  Callie lowers herself—stomach tumbling with the movement—until she feels the smooth surface of the roof on her bottom. Once seated, she rubs her now-damp palms on her pants. But when she takes in her surroundings, she realizes they’re nowhere near the ledge of the roof. Dean has positioned them so that they’re seated on the edge of a dormer, where the roof flattens slightly, forming a secure seat.

  “Now, look out,” he says, his voice soft.

  When she lifts her gaze, she gasps. The entire city sits hundreds of feet below them. In the purplish dusk of the night, the Monongahela River stretches before them like an exotic, inky snake. She can glimpse the points where the Allegheny meets the triangle of the city, creating the Ohio River. Among the water, the city lights give off an ethereal glow, and as the sun continues its descent in the sky, Callie knows those lights will only get brighter until it looks as though thousands of fireflies are dancing through the city streets.

  Of the sweeping view, the largest buildings stick out the most, scraping into the sky, their roofs stretching into the cloudless night like open arms. She can make out the U.S. Steel Tower, the Mellon Center, and Macy’s. The view takes her breath away, making her feel oddly small. Insignificant.

  “Wow,” is all she can think to say.

  “Exactly,” Dean says. “I used to come out here a lot, more than I do now. I used this place in the past as a sort of thinking post, and lately I’ve been doing a lot of that…thinking. I missed this place. And I thought maybe you could use it, too.”

  Callie glances over at him. He’s leaning back on his hands, his face relaxed. A breeze lightly ruffles his dark hair and she wishes she could see his eyes, but he continues staring ahead, his gaze unwavering in its focus on the city, and she wonders what he’s thinking about now.

  “Whose place is this?” Callie asks.

  “This house?” He points down at the house and finally turns to her, his eyes wide. “Hmmm… That’s a good question.”

  She swallows as her stomach jolts. “Please tell me you’re joking.”

  He grins. “Well, I wanted to woo you with my mysterious connections and all, but it’s Mr. Davidson’s, the owner of Buzz.”

  “Oh, wow. This is a nice perk of your job.”

  Dean shrugs. He falls silent once again, staring out at the city. “I came out here a lot in high school. After the accident,” she hears how his voice trips over the word, and she knows she’s to blame for that. Anyone who knows her well steers clear of the subject.

  “I’d come out here and I’d sit and wonder… What made me so lucky? Why was it your family and not mine? I would never want anything bad to happen to my parents, obviously, but so many times I couldn’t help but consider the fact that at least I have other family. I have two sets of grandparents, aunts, uncles, cousins, a sister. And you…you had no one but them. The only two people you had were taken from you. It just seemed so unfair…”

  Unbidden tears collect in her eyes, obscuring the view. She turns to him and places a hand over his. She can’t find any words, so he continues, filling the silence. “I remember holding you as you cried. And what was even worse than that, than watching your pain, was when you started to hide it. You became so careful about showing emotion, but I can still hear the sound of your tears as I stood outside of the closed bedroom door. I might’ve been young, but I never felt more useless. You were in pain and there was nothing I could do...nothing I could really say to help you.”

  He glances over at her and the raw emotion etched in the lines of his face leaves her breathless. Not the view. Not the city. But this man—Dean—and the way he feels at this exact moment, reflected in his stormy gaze.

  She, too, remembers those days. Far too clearly. After her parents’ deaths, grief weaved itself deep within the fabric of her life, and he had been the one who tried to untangle it the most. Only Dean had tried so hard to pick apart the threads. Looking back, not even Jinny or Mrs. Michaels had been as strong for her. Maybe it was easier for him. Because he hadn’t been as invested in her parents as the others. As her best friend, Jinny grew up with sleepovers at her house, her parents driving them to the mall, her mother taking them for manicures, and girls’ days out. Mrs. Michaels lost her lifelong friend, whereas Dean had only played a minor role in her parents’ lives—only connected to them through his mother and Jinny. So, when they died, he hadn’t lost as much with the accident. He was able to only see Callie, focus only on her pain.

  But the thing is… Dean could’ve avoided all of it. He had no obligation to help Callie, to take her grief, make it his own, and try to turn it around. He could’ve went off and played ball with his friends, focused on the trivialities of high school, but instead he stayed and held her hand. How many nights out with his friends had he skipped? How many silly high school dances had he missed that year?

  Dean has always been there, waiting in the shadows, a steel beam, holding up the walls of Callie’s crumbling life.

  Thoughts of her parents start to dissipate, a thinning fog on her mind, as Dean f
ills every thought with startling transparency. Callie can see through the looking glass of her life where the one constant, other than Jinny and the Michaels, has been—and always will be (of this she knows with complete certainty now)—Dean. He’s been the constant in her life, and with sudden clarity, her heart triples in size because she realizes that these last couple weeks he’s become more. More than just a friend. More than Jinny’s brother. And that’s why she doesn’t want him with Maya. Not because she can’t stand her, but because she wants Dean.

  Feeling wells up inside of her, hot and bright. How long have I felt this way and not realized it? How could I have been so blind?

  She wonders, now, if he has always been there, perching in her subconscious like a dove, waiting to be discovered. Her mind reels with this thought and as she takes in the sharp lines of his jaw and his rumpled dark hair, she questions everything about the last couple weeks.

  Does he feel the same way?

  While the rational part of her knows he’s trying to win Maya back, a glimmer of hope sprouts that maybe some of the sentiments have been real.

  She reaches out and places her hand on the side of his face, feeling the rigid muscle of his jaw on her palm. The touch seems to startle him. His pupils dilate slightly, even in the dimming light. His eyes wander to her mouth, and she wants him to kiss her. She’s never wanted anything more than to taste him, feel him in this moment.

  A gust of wind makes her shiver—or is it just him?—as she leans close, glancing at his lips, giving him the invitation. He reaches out and grips the back of her head and brings his mouth down to hers. This kiss is different than their first. It’s spontaneous, raw, and full of emotion.

  He brushes his lips over hers softly, then again with more passion. She melts into him, forgetting where she is, forgetting everything except his lips on hers and how he seems to be made for kissing her.

  Angling his head, he deepens the kiss, erasing all thought. All questions. Callie can’t think about Maya, their fake relationship, his parents, or hers. Her thoughts are only of him.

  His hands move to her waist, just under her coat. Shuddering, his touch demands she can’t be anywhere but in this moment. Her breathing hitches and just as she feels she’s falling off the edge of something wonderful, dangerous, and exciting, he pulls away slightly and leans his forehead against hers.