Page 62 of Love You Madly

OWEN - JUNE 12, 2013

When I texted Callie early this morning before my shift, I expected the usual banter or a light-hearted message in return. What I didn’t expect was the picture she sent back—a shot of her in bed, the camera angled in such a way that the first thing I notice is the hint of cleavage. My heart races for a second, a grin pulling at my lips. I don’t know if she meant to show that much, but damn, I’m not complaining. It’s the kind of thing that makes me second-guess every choice I’ve made about keeping things friendly between us.

I shake it off, trying to focus on the job. But as the day drags on, one problem after another, my thoughts keep drifting back to that picture. I tried to play it off when she apologized for the picture and a part of me wonders if she did it on purpose just to toy with me.

Just as I send off my response admitting that I am, in fact, a boob guy, Will shouts my name, needing help with a valvethat’s giving him trouble. The day spirals into one problem after another from there, with no time to catch my breath, let alone check my phone. We even worked through our lunch break.

Now, eight hours later, I pull out my phone as I head to the break room to grab my lunch box full of food I didn’t have time to eat today, and there’s another message waiting for me—this time, a photo that’s even more daring. My breath catches. She’s really pushing the boundaries now, and I can’t help but wonder if I’ve been reading this all wrong.

“Damn, Callie,” I mutter, shaking my head but not able to suppress the rush of excitement. She’s bold. Bolder than I expected. I type out a quick message, trying to keep it light:

Me:

You sure know how to get a guy’s attention.

After I hit send, I feel a tug of unease. Callie’s playing with fire, and it’s making things complicated. I’m still seeing Karissa, and while we’re not exclusive, it feels like I’m stuck between two very different situations. As much as I’ve tried to keep things platonic with Callie, the lines are blurring fast.

My phone buzzes, and her message pops up, instantly pulling me back into the tension of it all.

Callie:

Well hey, stranger! Is that why it took you like eight hours to respond?

I chuckle, but the pit in my stomach grows. I type back:

Me:

Sorry about that, work’s been a beast today.

Before I can finish the conversation, Will claps me on the shoulder and I quickly exit the text thread. Callie’s pictures arestill burned into my mind, and I hope to God he didn’t see anything. “You heading out?” he asks, his usual smirk plastered on his face. I really hope he didn’t see her–because if he did, I might actually have to gouge his eyes out.

Callie may not be “mine,” but the thought of anyone else seeing her like that sends a flare of primal possession through me. I push the thought aside, shaking off the ridiculous idea of threatening one of my best friends over a girl I’m not even dating.

“Yeah, man. Just wrapping up,” I say, slipping my phone into my pocket, feeling like I’ve just dodged a bullet.

As soon as I’m out of the hospital and safely in my truck, I pull my phone back out. This thing with her is spinning out of control, and I need to reel it in before I end up doing something I’ll regret.

Callie:

It’s all good. Just forget I sent those pictures this morning. Obviously my brain fell out when I was sleeping last night.

Forget? As if I could.

Callie:

So, any plans tonight? Or just the usual unwind after a long day?

She’s giving me an out, and I should take it. But instead, I go for the safer middle ground.

Me:

Probably just the usual. Need to recharge. How about you?

I hit send, but my mind’s already racing. Just friends, I remind myself. But those pictures, that teasing—it’s makingme second-guess everything. I grip the steering wheel harder than necessary and start the truck, my thoughts a jumble of conflicting emotions.

I roll the windows down, knowing I’m going to need some fresh air on the way home. Just as I’m about to put the truck in reverse and pull out of the parking lot, my phone buzzes in the cup holder where I’d set it.

Callie:

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