Page 156 of We Can't Be Friends

He’s not second place. I don’t know how he ever could be.

Chasing up the stairs after him, I try to open his door. It’s locked. Cal never locks his door.

I knock. “Callum.”

“Go away, Chloe.”

“Can we please talk?”

“I can’t right now.”

“I’m not talking to Seth. We haven’t spoken in over six months.”

“Tell me that again when you mean it.”

“I do mean it. . .” My voice breaks, a tear falling down my cheek. I wanted to feel everything with Cal, and here it is. Hurt. Confusion. Sadness.

I turn, back hitting the wall next to his door. My body slowly crawls down to the floor, slumping against it. Knees curled into me, a few more tears slip through.

Any guy before Cal, if they reacted this way, I’d call it off. Leave, ghost them, end it. He’s the first to ever have me chasing after them, desperate to fix whatever the hell just happened.

I’m not good at relationships, but this is me trying. I want a relationship with him. I want him.

The door opens. Cal sinks down next to me. His eyes rimmed red. The contrast of the colors is haunting.

“I’m not talking to him, Cal, I promise. Okay?” He nods. “Are you okay?”

“No, I’m not.”

We fell asleep there. Next to each other, my head falling to his shoulder, his hand in mine, empanadas discarded on the counter. Our exhaustion from our pasts catching up to us.

***

Tamara walks into my office, a pep in her step that has me immediately on guard.

“Michael,”—our VP of Marketing and Events—“wants to see you in his office.”

“And he sent you to fetch me? Yeah, sure.”

“You’re always such a bitch, Chloe,” she snootily responds.

“Takes one to know one.”

Weirdly enough, the makeup company we work for is filled with men in leadership roles. Why they believe they have the authority to make decisions around women’s beauty is every reason they shouldn’t.

I’ve never thought that my beauty is defined by anyone but myself.

And maybe Cal. Whenever he compliments my outfit in the morning and tells me how beautiful I am, I can’t help but blush like a seven-year-old.

He hasn’t been home in the mornings in a week. Not since the texts from Seth—that I left unanswered.

Michael has been here for fifteen years and believes he’s untouchable.

My boss, Ryan—the only guy around here I liked, because he actually listened and let the woman speak—left at the beginning of December.

I knew this was coming. He was transparent with me during our one-on-ones about the interviews and his goals. Ryan believed in mine, and I believed in his. He also believed I should be the next step into his role as Director of Events. I’ve wanted the job since I started, knowing I’d put my head down and grind till the opportunity arose to throw my name in the ring. If I wasn’t going to do what I dreamed of doing, might as well set aspirations here.

Michael stepped in after Ryan left. Unlike Ryan, he prefers when you kiss his ass, and that’s where I draw my line. Utilize your authority and power like that, and I will be on the opposite team in a heartbeat.

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