Page 56 of Simmer Down
Planting my feet into the sand, I look up at him once more. I can’t see his full expression—only his furrowed brow is visible in the darkness. But judging by his silence, I can tell he’s confused and weirded out by everything I’m saying. And even in my drunken state, I know why.
I’ve crossed a boundary. Me gushing over him isn’t casual hookup territory at all. I’m talking like he’s my one and only. I’m blurring the lines, and he doesn’t like it. I don’t like it either. I should know better—I’m the one who set the boundaries.
But this night? This moment? It is a perfect storm of feelings and alcohol and romance and ambiance. I broke the rules and let myself get pseudo love drunk.
Callum clears his throat. “And?” he repeats with an edge to his tone.
I shake my head, letting out a laugh that’s all nerves and pitchy. “Nothing. Sorry. That was the alcohol talking.”
A long silence follows. When he finally speaks, all he says is, “Okay.” Nothing more.
I let out all the air I’ve been holding in a slow, silent hiss. I’m relieved. I don’t want to talk about how I just made a fool of myself in front of Callum because I caught feelings for a split second in a drunken haze.
Staring straight ahead, he bites his lip before speaking again. “Ready to head back to the car?”
“You’re okay to drive?” I ask.
“I only had a few sips. I’m fine.”
We put our masks back on. He takes my hand in his and leads meup the beach to the street. We don’t talk the entire walk to the car or when he starts to drive back to his place.
We both yank off our masks and toss them in the back seat in silent unison. With each mile we cross, I sober up. I need to think fast. I need to fix this rift I just caused between us.
“I’m... I’m sorry for what I said. I didn’t mean it. It was just the alcohol and the mood and the fact that I haven’t been out in forever. I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable.”
We hit a stoplight, and he eases on the brakes. He twists his head to me, the look on his face blank. Does he think I’m a stalker now? Is he annoyed that I didn’t just drop it back at the beach? Am I making something out of nothing? I’d give anything to know what’s running through his brain.
“You mean that?” he asks.
“I do. I’m sorry that I gave off the impression that I wanted more. I don’t. I’m happy with the way things are right now.”
That last sentence falls out of my mouth so stilted that I cringe. Drunk me momentarily wanted something more, but sober me knows better. Sober me knows what’s on the line if we ever veer offtrack.
Callum nods. “Right.” The word rolls curtly off his tongue.
When the light turns green, he speeds ahead. In the silence of the drive, I wonder why it’s so hard for me to believe my own words.
Chapter 13
A few days past my drunken slipup, we’re back to normal. The morning after the block party, Callum didn’t mention a word of what I said the night before. I didn’t either. When I found my sriracha and sweet chili sauce bottles missing the next day, I breathed a sigh of relief. Then I stole the container of lemon wedges from the counter of Hungry Chaps food truck during a carefully timed garbage haul, and that was that. Things were back to normal. We dove right back into flirty texts and no-nonsense hookups, and I couldn’t have been more relieved.
I look through the window of my food truck, spotting Callum standing in his own truck’s window. All he gives me is a lift of one eyebrow, but that low-key flirt is more than enough to get me through the rest of the day.
Tonight I’m heading to Callum’s place after my shift. Finn is helping a chef friend with a late-night pop-up in Napili tonight, then camping at Haleakala, so I’m due at Callum’s at 9 p.m. sharp. And it’s doubly good because tomorrow is Easter, which means we’re closed,which also means I don’t have to rush home after fooling around like usual.
Mrs. Tokushige saunters up to the window for her usual lunch order. “Ay, Tiva.” She narrows her eyes at Mom, who’s finishing amalasada. “Do you know how much sugar is in those things? You should know better!”
I let out a laugh. “I think one doughnut is fine, Mrs. Tokushige. You see how well she eats the rest of the day.”
The concerned expression on Mrs. Tokushige’s face eases. “I suppose you’re right. You never can be too healthy at our age, though, Tiva.”
The two exchange a knowing expression. I decide it’s the perfect time to take out the trash to avoid whatever squabble they’re about to get into.
I haul the bag out to the garbage can just as a petite dark-haired beauty saunters up to the Hungry Chaps food truck, right in my line of sight. She slaps both hands on the metal ledge. Callum’s brow jumps, as do his shoulders.
My eyes go wide. She’s all smiles and curves with a deep olive tan and thick black hair that falls all the way to her waist. She’s a whisper above five feet tall, but she’s got the spirit of a giant. It’s obvious in the way she waltzed to the truck and the unflappable eye contact she’s making with Callum. She’s practically bursting at the seams with that effortless, raw confidence stunning women like her seem to have in spades.
In her presence, I suddenly feel like a gawky baby giraffe struggling to stand.
