Page 163 of We Can't Be Friends

Cal moves to the side of the bed, pulling back the covers for me, helping me under them before he turns to leave. I shoot my arm out, grabbing his elbow.

Callum’s upper body pivots in my direction.

Our eyes meet and I can see swarms of emotions swimming in the pools of blue.

I shake my head no. “Don’t leave. He–you can’t.”

Cal swallows and bites his lip. “Okay.”

I drop his elbow, watching as he steps away. Removing his shirt, he folds it and sets it on my dresser.

The bed dips as Callum climbs in.

He wraps an arm around me. The towel slips and his hand meets bare skin. We lay like that momentarily before I twist around to face him.

“Kiss me,” I beg.

“Chloe. . .” he drags out my name with a shake of his head, an exhale.

“Cal, please. Please touch me.” Take away the pain, take away the ache and emptiness that my heart can’t take anymore.

I know the request is unfair to him, to use him for that here. Right now. I know I shouldn’t, but I can’t. . . I need this.

“Kiss me,” I beg again. He stops my hand from dragging down his bare chest. “Please, Ineed this.”

“No.” His shoulders tense. “Chloe, you know that I want to. I want to be with you badly, but not like this. I’m not a toy for you to use. When we kiss, when we touch, when I’m with you, it is because you want to feel everything.”

I try to pull out of his hold because he’s spot on.

“Stop. This doesn’t mean I won’t hold you or stay. I’m here for you, going to get through whatever this is with you, but I’m not going to let you use sex to escape. You’ve told me before that’s what you used to do. I care too much about you to let you continue to do that to yourself.”

I inhale sharply.

I’ve never been turned down before.

A tear drops down my cheek. “Thank you,” I sniffle out. “For saying no,” I clarify when his brows furrow, lips pursed in confusion. “And for being here right now.”

“There’s nowhere else I want to be, Dais.”

“There’s no one else I’d want. . .” I trail off, my eyes growing heavy. Sleep looming over me. “To. . .” Breathe. “Be h-here. . .”

48

CALLUM

Chloe’s side of the bed is empty when I wake up.

As I adjust to the light, I stretch out a hand to where she was lying. I startle. Kicking at the sheets to sit up and scan her room for her.

The door is closed, lights off. No Tucker.

I’m not sure when I fell asleep last night. . . or what time it is now.

Chloe fell asleep. Deep breaths, lips parted. She was so peaceful compared to when I found her in the shower. Body still from exhaustion—she didn’t move once in my arms. Her head resting on my chest, a hand interlocked in mine.

My heartbeat synced with her breathing while I watched her. I laid there for hours, alternating from stroking a thumb on her forehead to twirling a strand of drying hair between my fingers.

The marathon I’m training for had nothing on the marathon my thoughts were running last night. Around 3 a.m., my stomach growled, reminding me I hadn’t eaten last night. Glancing down at Chloe, her words replayed,you can’t leave. She might be fast asleep, but I couldn’t leave her still.

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