Page 7 of We Can't Be Friends

Steam rolls out as the door gets caught on the towel, and it slips from my grasp.

Roaming over my body are a pair of eyes that don’t belong to Emerson.

We stand off for a few beats before he goes into the bathroom. When he comes back out, butting in on my conversation with Emerson, I trade places, needing to get dressed.

***

Fully clothed, I pull my hair back and walk two steps into the living room.

Why is he still here? And what is he doing at Emerson’s apartment?

“Couldn’t get enough?” I lean over the back of the couch. My head is parallel to his. Callum pulls the tablet in his hand to his chest. “Ooo, secretive.”

“Nosy.”

“I call that curiosity.”

“I think I’m going to take off.” He stands, picking up a book from the counter. “Thanks for this, States.”

“You sure? Chloe doesn’t bite, I prom—”

“Wouldn’t promise.” I follow him into the kitchen, perching myself on the counter, swirling an iced coffee. We make eye contact, and for a split second, I’m hypnotized. Studying his eyes, the deep ocean blue, I wonder if Cal can see right through me.Through the bullshit, through the storm that caused mine to cloud over. Raw. Vulnerable. Bare.

That’s how he’s looking at me, and I can’t have it.

I wink, snapping myself back to reality, trying to level the playing field.

“See you this weekend?” he confirms with Emerson. She nods, walking him out.

“Bye, Calvin.” My fingers wiggle, waving at him.

“It’s Cal,” he groans.

Emme closes the door, heels spinning.

***

“Was I seeing double, or do you have two British boys wrapped around your finger?”

Emerson chokes on her water. “I do not have Cal wrapped around my finger. We are practically siblings. Always have been.”

I hip bump her, walking back to her apartment after a yoga class. “What’s his deal?”

After the pretty blond boy from London left—I hate how much he reminds me of young Heath Ledger, my kryptonite—Emerson and I finished our work day from her couch. The luxuries of hybrid, flexible jobs. I traded my jeans for a pair of leggings, stretching out and trying to forget about today's series of unfortunate events.

“You want his dating profile summary?”

I roll my eyes at her, stepping into the elevator. “Does he have one?”

“I don’t know. I’m fresh out of an engagement and learned the ex-love of my life has been living in the same city as me for a year. I haven’t had the mind capacity to keep tabs on Cal’s dating life.”

“So?”

“No, he doesn’t have one.” Emerson opens the door to her place. I eye her, silently sayingI knew it. Her quick smile, a silentshutup. She’s observant and mindful of everyone in her life to a fault. Sometimes caring too much about the emotions and opinions of others. “Cal doesn’t date. In the six years I’ve known him, he’s never had a girlfriend. Flings? Sure. A steady girlfriend? No. He’s always been work first, work second, pleasure third.”

She pulls a meal kit from the fridge.

“You staying?” I nod. Emerson swiftly changes the subject, dicing a red pepper, “Have you heard more from Seth?”

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