Page 55 of Unforgivable

I couldn't do this. It suddenly felt wrong to track Cal down like this and force him to acknowledge me. It was even worse that I had dressed up like a horny club bunny in the hopes of getting his attention. If he had really wanted me there, he would have texted back this week. I needed to get out of there.

Before I could bail, a hand grasped my arm. “Rhys? That you?”

I whirled around to see Bash's friend Dawson, those powder blue eyes of his looking me over curiously. I had only met him a couple times so far, but he was super nice and yes, also gorgeous.I swear, these dudes look like the unrealistically beautiful cast of a CW show. Just my luck, I look more suited for Nickelodeon.

“Oh hey, Dawson. What are you doing here?” I asked dumbly, but really he had more cause to be there than I did, being a football player and all. I was under no illusions about being an outsider at this party.

“Eh, a bunch of guys on the team were invited and they dragged me along. It's not too bad so far. You here with Micah?” He asked, smiling at me kindly.

“Uh no, Micah's hanging with Bash tonight. I was looking for someone, but I think I'll just head home instead,” I said lamely. Dawson's brows knitted in concern.

“Well, don't go home yet. Come hang out with us,” he suggested, tugging me gently with him to a group of guys talking and laughing by the back patio.

“D-man, there you are! Where'd you disapp—oh hello there!” a shaggy cute blond guy shouted at Dawson before his eyes zeroed in on me, a wide grin on his face. “Who'd you kidnap this time, D? Props to your choice!”

“Shut up, Nate. Do not scare him. This is Rhys, Micah's roommate. Rhys, this asshat is my best friend Nate,” Dawson said. Nate's smirk told me he didn't mind the insult in the slightest.

“He loves me. He just likes to play hard to get,” Nate winked at me, taking a swig of his beer. “So Rhys, what brings you here on this fine evening dressed like that? I definitely approve, by the way.” His bright smile was warm and teasing, so I didn't take offense. He struck me as the casually flirty kind.

“I-I was invited by a friend. I just can't seem to find him. Not really sure if he even wants me here, actually,” I mumbled, fairly certain my cheeks were bright red.

“I'm sure that's not true. What makes you think he doesn't want you here?” Nate asked sympathetically.

I squirmed, not really wanting to delve into the circumstances that brought me there. “He just hasn't talked to me in a few days, and he hasn't brought up the party except the one time. I only want to talk to him, but he's been avoiding me, so I thought this was the best way to make him stop running. Is that stupid? It's so stupid, right? Ugh, this was a mistake,” I rambled, wanting to run away myself and hide in embarrassment.

Nate slipped his arm around my shoulder and gave me a reassuring squeeze. “Hey, it's not stupid. Sounds like he's being a superdouche and ignoring you, so you didn't have an option. You know what you need? A drink. You know what they say. When life gives you lemons, add Vodka. I doubt Vodka is the answer, but it's worth a shot…or five. After five, it'll definitely feel like the answer.” Nate nodded and smiled like he'd just solved all my troubles.

“Oh my God, you're lucky it's not illegal to give shitty advice,” Dawson groaned beside him. “Since when has getting drunk ever been the solution to a problem?”

“I think the better question is when is it evernotthe solution to a problem? I've always felt better after a session with Mr. Jose Cuervo, but I'm sure vodka is a suitable therapeutic alternative. Don't you worry, Rhysie boy, I'd only give you advice I'd give to myself,” Nate said, giving my shoulder a tight squeeze.

“Okay, now I'm seriously concerned. I feel like I need to call CPS and have you taken away from yourself,” Dawson said solemnly.

It didn't phase his tipsy friend in the slightest. “Umm, it's called Cocktail Therapy, man. Look it up. No better cure for whatever shit life throws at you. That's why chicks are always going out for mimosas and brunch. It's cheaper than a shrink to just have a drink,” he cackled at his ridiculous rhyme.

I laughed as he and Dawson bantered back and forth after Nate finally released me. My gaze kept pinging around the room, finally searching out the person I’d been looking for. I instantly regretted it.

I watched Cal's toned body curve around a short, dark-haired guy who was grinding his hips forward, his fingers sifting through Cal's unruly blond curls. The sight made my stomach churn with nausea and my heart plummeted.

Logically, I knew Callum and I were only friends, no matter how many times I'd lost myself in his touch. He'd made me no promises, but it didn't stop the suffocating knot working its way up my throat. I watched the scantily clad pretty boy koala-climbing on Cal in a mission to mount him right on the dance floor.

I assumed I had died because I seemed to be in rigor mortis. My limbs failed to move an inch and my brain was nothing but white noise. Pain ricocheted through me like a sadistic pinball, every nerve ending fried. When I thought it couldn't get any worse, the guy dragged Cal down to him and licked a path up his neck to the corner of his lips. My lungs froze in horrific anticipation, and only when Cal pulled away from that questing mouth was I able to pull in a full breath.

Cal's gaze instantly floated up to mine and the world stopped. I silently prayed that he would come to me, telling me it was all a misunderstanding before wrapping me in his arms. But when those full lips curved into a wicked smile, I knew immediately I was screwed.

Cal unlatched his handsy partner who pouted angrily as Cal made his way over, his eyes never straying from mine. I moved away from Dawson and Nate, so they didn’t have to witness what was sure to be an awkward conversation. I willed myself to stay calm and hear him out since that was the whole point of me being there.

“Look at you, Sweetness. You wear this hot number for me?” Cal drawled, grazing a finger down my chest slowly. Even after what I witnessed, his touch still left sparks of heat in its wake.

“I wanted to talk to you. I've been worried and you haven't answered my texts,” I said, ignoring his remark.

“Haven't had anything to say to you,” he responded flatly. “I'm surprised you showed up here. Thought you were smart enough to take the hint.”

His words stabbed at me, my hope for reconciling dying a slow death. “I'm smart enough not to give up on a friend when he's obviously hurting,” I retorted. “I'm not an idiot, I know something's wrong. What's changed?”

“Nothing's wrong. Everything's great,friend,” Cal spat out the word like it was poisonous. I wasn't backing down though.

“That's crap. For some reason, you're running away again and I'm not going to let you,” I told him firmly.

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