Meant To Be (The Callahans Book 4)

by Monica Murphy

  Though it’s pretty obvious that if I told Wyatt I was interested in him, he’d admit the same. He likes me. And while it’s flattering, and yes, he would probably make a great boyfriend, he isn’t the boy I want. Not even close.

  The boy I want doesn’t want me.

  And that is absolutely devastating.

  Three

  Eli

  I stay in bed all damn morning, because it’s all I can manage to do. No one’s home. Mom is still gone for the weekend, getting drunk by the beach. A weekend wasted. I was supposed to go with Ava to her homecoming dance tonight. Could’ve shown everybody at that lousy school the prettiest girl in the junior class—hell the entire school—chose me as her date. Chose me as her boyfriend. After the dance, I would’ve brought her back to my house, got her naked. Done all the dirty things I’ve been thinking about doing to her all night long.

  But then she and the rest of her family had to go and ruin everything.

  If I could smother myself with my pillow I would; I’m so pissed off and miserable. Girls suck. Their overprotective douchebag brothers do too.

  Finally giving up on sleep, I eventually reach over and blindly grab my phone to look at the time.

  It’s freaking past noon. Can’t remember the last time I slept that long.

  I check my notifications and I’m immediately bored. Same thing, different day. I see I have a Snap from Jackson Rivers and I open it, curious. We don’t communicate over Snap. Like ever.

  He’s sent me someone else’s story. A name I don’t recognize. It’s video of a game in the middle of the day. At my high school. It’s the youth league football, I can tell. The camera pans across the crowd in the stands, before zooming in on a couple sitting at the very top of the bleachers. They’re engrossed in conversation. I’d recognize that blonde hair anywhere.

  Ava.

  And she’s with that motherfucker Wyatt.

  Anger simmers in my gut as they continue to talk, their heads bent close to each other’s. At one point, Ava reaches over and pats Wyatt’s knee.

  What the fuck?

  There’s a little message on the video at the end.

  Who predicted this couple to happen? Yours truly.

  Jackson sent his own message to me as well.

  Did you see this?? I thought she was your girl.

  Look at how fast she moved on. I’m sure her parents would give their stamp of approval for that boring asshole. And how the hell do I answer Jackson?

  I decide to be honest.

  She was. Not anymore.

  Jackson: That was fast. You broke it off?

  Me: Yep. Pretty girls are poison.

  Jackson: Finally you see the light. Welcome to the club.

  Me: What club?

  Jackson: The fuck girls club.

  I have to make a joke with that. Seriously, he just set it up perfectly.

  Me: I am always down to fuck a girl, son. Been a member of that club for years.

  He sends me a string of laughing face emojis as his reply.

  There. That sounded like the normal me. Carefree, will fuck anything Eli. I need to keep up the persona.

  Even though I feel like I’m slowly dying inside.

  I don’t cry. I don’t like feeling sad. I mask sadness with anger. Anger is a proactive emotion. It propels you to do something versus sadness, which just leaves you a broken heap on the floor. Or in your bed.

  Or a ghost wandering the halls of your house. Which is what I’m currently doing.

  I force myself to eat something but it tastes like cardboard. I take a shower and consider jerking off, but I’m not in the mood. That’s when I know something’s seriously wrong. And yeah, there is definitely something wrong. A girl broke my heart. She lied to me. Told her brother all of my family secrets like they were meaningless. Like she didn’t care.

  That’s what makes me the maddest. She didn’t care about me. Did she ever? How’d I fall for that? Was it her beautiful green eyes? The sweet way she responded to me when I touched her? The way she kissed me? The taste of her lips? How she argued with me almost every single time we were together, to the point I wanted to make her angry because mad Ava turns me on? I could go on and on.

  I scrub my hands over my face before I glare at my reflection in the mirror, annoyed with my train of thoughts. I should forget her. Forget everything that happened between us.

  But I can’t.

  It’s steamy in the bathroom and the towel I had wrapped around my waist drops to the floor, heaping at my ankles. I kick it out of the way and take a step back, checking myself out in the mirror because…

  Why the hell not?

  My face is a mess thanks to Jake Callahan. A gash on my forehead, a nasty bruise on my cheek. The worst is the swollen corner of my mouth. When his fist connected there, my teeth cut into my flesh.

  I look like hell.

  Feel like it too.

  Pushing past my fucked-up face, I check the rest of myself out. I work hard on this body and it shows. I look good, minus my beat-up face. I’ve got a decent sized dick. I’m almost eighteen and in my prime. I look like a fucking catch.

  But maybe that’s another problem. Looks can be deceiving. I’m not the catch everyone thinks I am. I’m broken and fucked up. I have a shitty family and sometimes I feel like there’s no hope for me. My attitude is for shit, and I know it, yet I don’t do anything to stop myself from being who I am.

  I’m just me. Take it or leave it. And I suppose Ava chose to leave it.

  Fuck her.

  Jesus, fuck me too, if I’m being real right now.

  I’m about to exit the bathroom when I notice something. More like a lack of something.

  Where’s my necklace? My #1 pendant?

  Once I return to my bedroom, I search around for it, but it’s nowhere. The necklace must’ve broke during the fight with Jake ‘the asshole’ Callahan last night.

  Damn it. I loved that necklace. Figures Jake would tear it off my neck. I bet it’s lying discarded in a bush in their backyard. Maybe Jake found it later and tossed it in the trash.

  Asshole.

  Brenden texted me earlier asking if we could get together and I decide to invite a bunch of my friends over to hang out. I mean, why not? Mom’s gone and I have the house to myself. We can drink and smoke in the backyard and there’s no one I need to hide it from. I have some vodka in the house and, of course, a stash of wine bottles, but none of us want to drink that shit. Jackson promises to bring the beer, and Cory—yes, I invited his pathetic ass, so what—says he’ll bring some whiskey and Coke.

  I don’t even need the Coke. I’ll drink that whiskey straight. Fuck it.

  I’m gonna get fucked up.

  They arrive at my house within the hour, Brenden and Jackson and Cory and a few others. They bring along their favorite party favors—blunts and booze and snacks. We congregate outside by the pool, though it’s cooler today. If anyone’s jumping in the water, it’s either because someone dared them to, or they get so drunk they don’t care how cold it is.

  That’ll probably end up being me later tonight. Too drunk to care.

  “What the hell happened to your face?” Jackson asks me, after we’ve all settled in at the table with the giant blue umbrella.

  I send him a death glare. “It ran into someone’s fist.”

  “You’ve been fighting a lot,” Brenden says, sounding like he’s my dad.

  “You included,” Jackson reminds him, which makes Brenden seal his lips shut.

  “I got into a fight with Callahan last night,” I say, deciding I may as well lay it all out.

  “No shit?” Jackson lifts his brows. “Who won?”

  “It was a tie.” And I lost the girl, so I guess I’m the silent loser.

  “Uh huh.” Jackson smiles. Tips his beer bottle to his lips and takes a loud swallow.

  Smug fucker.

  I need to change the subject.

  “You break up with Kayla?” I ask Brenden.

&nbs
p; Brenden takes a hit off the blunt before he passes it to me, tilting his head back and exhaling a stream of smoke. “Nope.”

  “What? You chicken motherfucker.” I lean over and slap his arm, making him glare at me as he rubs the spot where I hit him. “You said you were going to do it. When I left the party last night, you told me you were about to let her down easy.”

  “Yeah well.” His cheeks turn crimson and he looks down at his lap, where I swear to God, it looks like he’s twiddling his thumbs. “We, uh, never got around to talking much last night.”

  “They fucked,” Cory adds, who I guess is eavesdropping on our conversation.

  “No shit,” I mumble with the blunt between my lips.

  “Big mistake,” Jackson mutters at the same time.

  Brenden glares at the both of us. “What, is it so impossible to think a girl would want to have sex with me?”

  I pluck the blunt from my mouth. “I never said that,” I start and Jackson just laughs.

  “It has nothing to do with your sex appeal and everything to do with the fact that you just had sex with a complete psycho,” Jackson explains, his tone dead serious. “That chick is toxic. She’s trying to change your entire life. And now that you’ve come inside her? Forget it. You’re dunzo.”

  I send Brenden a sympathetic look, but say nothing. Pretty sure the only other time he had sex was with some chick our junior year who was a sophomore. A transfer student who showed up halfway through the year. He befriended her, not to get in her panties—that’s more my shitty style—but because he’s an actual nice person. Things happened and they eventually did it.

  Then she transferred out again. And he was devastated. That girl was the only distraction he ever had from his undying lust for Kayla.

  “They don’t change just because you have sex with them,” I tell Brenden, my voice low. Jackson and Cory are having their own conversation about girls and sex. I’m sure Cory has zero experience there. A few other guys wander into my backyard and Jackson gets up to greet them like he’s the host of this party. Which is fine by me. I’m not in the mood. “She’ll still be the same person she was before you dipped your wick in her wax.”

  Brenden makes a face. “Dipped my wick in her wax? Where do you come up with this shit?”

  I shrug. “What can I say? I should be a songwriter.”

  “Sure. You’re a regular fucking poet.” Brenden grabs the whiskey bottle Cory left on the table and takes a swig straight from it, instead of being a classy motherfucker and pouring himself a glass. He wipes his mouth with the back of his hand before he says, “It wasn’t even that good. She just sort of…laid there the whole time. Didn’t do much. Said a bunch of stuff that felt fake.”

  “Lots of moaning and groaning and acting like she’s gonna come any second?” I ask.

  Brenden nods, looking as miserable as I feel. Damn, is this shit catchy or what? “Yeah. I was into her at first, but I realized what she was saying sounded really—fake, you know? Kind of turned me off. She wanted me to go down on her afterward, but I was over it.”

  These are all horrible signs. He’s not into this chick. Not anymore. I would’ve gone down on Ava for hours if she would’ve let me. Didn’t matter when or where. I’d lick that pretty pussy until she was about fifty orgasms in, begging and squirming, desperate to get away from my demon mouth. I was that horny for her all the damn time.

  Reaching down, I subtly adjust my junk in my jeans, so it doesn’t press against the seam. I’m still horny for her. Not like I can just shut off my feelings for her in less than twenty-four hours. I’m not that cold.

  “We should invite some girls over,” Cory suggests to us, and Brenden and I both immediately shake our heads no.

  “Kayla will kill me,” Brenden says morosely.

  Cory looks to me, his expression hopeful. “You’re always up for having girls over.” He bursts out laughing, slapping the edge of the table. “Ha! Get it? Up for? Because your dick is always hard for random chicks?”

  If I could kick him in the face, I would. But I don’t. There’s no need to cause a scene at my own damn house. I’ve done enough fighting. My face and body still ache from where Jake got his few punches in last night.

  I hope he’s in traumatic pain. I hope his dick is limp for life, too.

  “He’s still mourning the loss of his secret hottie,” Jackson says, as he approaches our table.

  I send him an angry glare, and Jackson immediately clamps his lips shut.

  “What secret hottie?” Brenden asks.

  “It’s nothing,” I tell him with a faint smile, my heart literally aching once the words leave my mouth. I called her nothing. She treated me like I meant nothing. That’s how it felt last night.

  I am so melodramatic right now, it’s pathetic.

  “Yeah, what secret hottie?” Cory pipes up.

  See what Jackson started? How am I supposed to explain myself out of this one?

  “Ah, he was chasing after Ava Callahan just to piss her brother off, and it worked. That fucker was steaming mad. Am I right, Bennett?” Jackson sends me a pointed look, silently asking me to play along.

  “Yeah. Totally.” I laugh, but it sounds so goddamn fake, I stop. “Just having a little fun.”

  “She is a hottie,” Cory says, making Jackson laugh.

  “Right? Completely fuckable. I bet she’d be a fun ride.” Jackson’s eyes are dancing when they meet mine. He knows he’s riling me up. I send him a death glare in return, but it doesn’t seem to faze him.

  “Getting it on with the freshly crowned homecoming queen, what could be better?” Cory asks, with a giant grin right before he takes a swig of beer.

  I take another huge hit off the blunt, holding the smoke in my lungs for as long as I can stand it before I exhale. I set the blunt in an ashtray we only bring out for special occasions such as this and lean back in my chair. “She was the princess,” I say, my voice deceptively calm.

  Cory frowns. “What?”

  “Ava was the homecoming princess, not the queen,” I remind him.

  “Oh.” He shrugs. “Who gives a shit?”

  I do, I want to say. I give a shit.

  Because I do give a shit, even though she clearly doesn’t. All that crying and carrying on last night was a dog and pony show. She was just upset over getting caught. I’m used to this sort of thing. My mother acts this way at least once a week.

  “I wouldn’t mind fucking her with the crown still on her head,” Jackson says, that devil’s grin on his face making me think he’s really enjoying this. Torturing my ass. Describing exactly what I did to Ava the night she won. “Maybe have her on her knees sucking my dick, wearing nothing but that little sash they give them?”

  I clench my hands into fists but otherwise, say nothing.

  “Maybe she doesn’t have a problem with sharing. You know, sharing is caring.” Jackson turns all of his attention on me, grinning like a loon. “Would you share that hot little piece with me?”

  I lunge from my chair like a madman, and the next thing I know, I’m standing directly in front of Jackson, my fingers curled around the collar of his sweatshirt, yanking his face into mine. That cocky smile fades, and his eyes go wide. “Shut the fuck up before I make you eat my fist,” I growl at him.

  Jackson just tips his head back and laughs, the asshole. “Give it up. You’ve got mad feelings for her, even though you don’t want to admit it. She wasn’t just some casual piece to get with to make her stupid brother mad.”

  “What the hell are you two talking about?” Brenden asks, appearing thoroughly confused. Cory’s eyes are wide as he watches us. The other guys have stopped talking as well. We are pure entertainment for them right now.

  Without a word, I shove Jackson away from me before I stalk back toward the house, slamming the door behind me. The door opens seconds later, and I hear Jackson calling my name, so I turn around in the living room and wait for him to come to me.

  “I was just giving you shit,”
he says, as he comes to a halt a few feet away. “No harm, no foul, right?”

  “Fuck you,” I spit out, not even trying to hide my hostility. “Why’d you even bring her up?”

  “You were sitting there like a little pussy, completely miserable because of whatever that bitch did to you last night, and I don’t like it. Now she’s with that Wyatt fucker, like you never mattered in the first place.” He points at me, his expression fierce. “This is what they do, man. This is how they act.”

  “Who?”

  “Women! Girls! Bitches! Whatever you want to call them. This is the way they operate almost every single time. They don’t care about us. They just use us. And when they’re done, they dispose of us like one of those raggedy, black smudged makeup wipes they use on their faces at night. Straight to the trash. Gone and forgotten.” Jackson’s face is red, he’s so heated.

  I just stare at him for a long, quiet moment, slowly shaking my head. “Who the hell did such a number on you?”

  “Every female in my life, that’s who. Fuck them,” he mutters, just before he strides past me and exits my house.

  Damn. And I thought I had issues.

  Four

  Ava

  I’m not usually one to beg but…

  “Please, please, please,” I say, stressing the last word and stretching it out. “I’m the homecoming princess, Mom! I have to go to the dance!”

  “You don’t have to go anywhere,” Mom says irritably, as she moves about the kitchen. She’s prepping for dinner and barely looking at me. Jake and Dad holed up in his study when Jake came home, and they haven’t left it since. I feel like Mom’s barely tolerating me and Dad and Jake don’t even want to look at me. I am on everyone’s bad side in this house right now, and it sucks.

  I realize begging and whining isn’t going to work on Mom, so I decide to change tactics. “Just—let me go tonight. That’s it. That’s all I’ll ask for. My one duty to the school before I’m grounded forever.”

  She sends me a look, like she doesn’t believe me. “You’re not grounded forever. Your dad said a week. If it would’ve been up to me? I’d given you two.”