Page 23 of Because of Her

“Is this … are we … do you …” Reaching for my cheek, he fumbles over his words. The way he struggles to form a sentence feels like the moment I’ve been waiting for. It’s now, or it will probably be never. I cut him off by crashing my lips against his.

I should go slower, savour the moment, try to show him how much I care. But I can’t. Years of wishing and dreaming and waiting have left me starved. Our lips tangle together in a frenzy, and when he runs his tongue along my lip, I open my mouth to let him in. I stretch my body up against his, bracing my hands on his shoulders as I climb onto his lap.

Before I can seat myself against him, my pocket vibrates. I want to ignore it. I want to ignore the world and get lost in Callum’s embrace. I grab the back of his head to show him I don’t care about my ringing phone, but he breaks us apart.

“You should get that,” he says through bated breaths.

As I climb off him, I scratch at my fingers. Callum’s knee starts bouncing again.

I stand, watching him until my phone finally stops ringing.

“Callum,” I say.

“Rogue, I … I’m sorry,” he says as he shakes his head. Standing, a visible shiver runs up the length of his spine. His breaths become raspy as he tries to slow them down.

Knocking his fist against his chest in the way he always does when panic overrules him, Callum reaches to the ground to grab his beer.

“I’ll, um.” He stumbles over his words as he walks past me.

“I’ll see you around,” he finally says over his shoulder as he walks away. I fight the urge to race after him and check he is okay.

I don’t think I can be his rock. Not anymore.

Eventually, I tire my legs out and collapse on the couch. As I brush my hands through my knotted hair, I change my mind and get up to open a bottle of wine. I forego a glass, and slump back into the couch to take a long swig before looking at the bottle. Rosé … not as great at room temperature as it would be chilled, but right now, I couldn’t care less.

All those years ago, that kiss with Callum marked the end of our friendship. I’d known before I threw myself at him that he was moving to the other side of the city, but I didn’t care. I thought we were worth the travel. But to him, we weren’t. He left me.

I sob into the silence. My heart aching at being rejected, again.

Keys rattle as Amira calls out to announce her arrival. She walks down the hall with one hand covering her face. “La la la,” she sings, “I’m just running to my room.”

The idiocy of her actions after how my night ended turns my sobs into laughter. “No one’s here,” I squeak through sobs.

“Oh.” She ends her crazy dance-slash-run and moves to collapse onto the couch next to me. Catching herself before gravity takes over, she gestures to the wine bottle on the table.

“No glass?”

She side steps to the kitchen cabinet, pulling two cheap stemless wine glasses out. “I thought … Cal?”

I shake my head.

“Well at least I’m not the only one sleeping alone tonight,” Amira whines as she places the glasses on the table. In one swift movement, she falls back onto the couch beside me. Her legs stretch up as she places her feet on the coffee table.

“You have no idea.” I elbow her in the ribs. “But you go first.”

Grabbing my hand she massages my palm the way she does when I complain my fingers hurt from twisting bouquets.

“Eh, there’s not much to tell. It was … awkward.”

“What? How?” I question, pulling my hand away. She’s been out with this guy a couple of times in the space of just a week. I figured any potential awkwardness would be gone.

“It was just … I don’t know … weird. Neither of us knew she was coming, but his mum was there the whole time.”

“His mother?”Wow.

“Yeah.” She grabs my hand back and continues her massage. “Anyways, it was super awkward, obviously, so in the end we called it a night and went our separate ways.”

“Argh, that’s shit. I’m sorry.”

---