Page 45 of Simmer Down
“We’d have to be discreet about the whole thing.”
“I’m not going to run and tell any food bloggers or vloggers, if that’s what you’re worried about.”
“Of course not. Sorry, that’s not what I meant at all.”
A beat of tense silence follows with us just looking at each other. Callum takes a gigantic bite of his sandwich. I finally dig into mine and moan at the burst of flavor. It’s the perfect bite of ham, malt vinegar mayo, fried egg, shoestring fries, and focaccia bread. I offer him a bite, but he declines with a wave of his hand.
I swallow. “I just don’t want to be gossip for the foodies. And I don’t want to jeopardize this career opportunity. I know getting first place at the festival is a long shot, but I want to try—I want to commit myself to it one hundred percent.”
“It’s not a long shot. You have just as good a chance as anyone,” he says without looking at me.
His lack of eye contact reads like I’ve offended him. I refuse to do this unless he’s genuinely into it. I reach out and touch his hand. When he looks at me, the softness returns to his face; that kindness in his eyes still radiates.
“You sure you’re okay with this?” I ask.
“Yes.” He pauses to take another bite, then raises his beer in a toast. “Cheers on it?”
I let out a slow breath to ease the tiny knot that’s suddenly settled in my chest. There’s no reason to be anxious. There’s nothing wrongwith a casual arrangement. I said it’s okay, and he said it’s okay. We’re two adults who are just being direct about what we want. We’re competitors-turned-friends-with-benefits.
I clink my bottle against his. “Cheers.”
•••
Callum leads me with a hand on the small of my back through the doors of the Washington, a pub in Camden Town. It’s the day after we agreed to be friends with benefits, and we seem to be settling into things nicely. His parents are out to dinner with friends this evening, so he invited me over to take advantage of the empty house. And that’s exactly what we did for a solid two hours. We took advantage of his bedroom, the living room, and the shower. It seemed like the fitting thing to do the day before his flight back to Maui.
With our physical needs sated and our appetites raging, we take a booth in the corner of the pub. Callum goes to the bar to fetch us beers while I reply to a text from Mom.
Having a good time? Doing anything fun?
I swallow back the sudden bitter taste in my mouth. Just the thought of her finding out about my newly formed no-strings-attached arrangement with Callum sends me into hives. I stick to the truth but leave out any incriminating bits.
ME:Yes, it’s been so awesome! I went sightseeing with Auntie Nora today while Uncle Nigel was at work. They’re out to dinner with friends tonight, so I’m exploring the neighborhood right now. I’m taking them to brunch tomorrow to thank them for having me, then we’re going to Leadenhall Market.
MOM:Sounds fun. Be careful, Auntie will try to grab the bill at brunch. Or if you pay, she’ll try to slip you money later on.
I sigh. Ever since I was a kid, Mom and Auntie Nora have fought over bills at restaurants and other expenses. It’s only natural she’d try to do the same with me now that I’m an adult and can pay for things.But even though I appreciate her generosity, she and Uncle Nigel have done enough by flying me to England and letting me stay with them. The least I can do is treat them to a meal.
ME:I’ll be ready. Want any souvenirs?
Callum returns with two pints just as she texts back that she wants a refrigerator magnet with the Union Jack flag on it. I chuckle and show him the text.
He lets out a soft laugh. “Really? A magnet? Your mum doesn’t realize you don’t have to travel to London to get one of those? She can order one online.”
“Even if I told her, she wouldn’t care. She would still want me to get her one from here.”
We take long sips of our beers, and I peer around the pub. It’s bustling for a weeknight, with the after-work crowd filing in for a drink before heading home.
“I totally dig the pub culture here, by the way.” I tilt my head to the line forming at the bar. “We have happy hour in the States, but nothing like this.”
“It’s ingrained in us from an early age. Any excuse to day drink.” Callum takes another sip.
A trio of middle-aged men make their way to the table across from us, pints in hand. I focus on the one seated nearest us, who has an old-school flip phone tucked inside the leather cell phone holder on his belt.
The memory of my dad sporting the exact same look pops in my head. I cup my hand over my mouth to stifle my laugh so the table doesn’t hear.
Callum’s face is pure confusion when he looks at me. “What’s so funny?”
“It’s nothing. Just...” I nod to the table, and he twists to take alook. “My dad used to wear his cell phone on his belt just like that guy. It drove me and my mom crazy. He was the most stubborn person ever when it came to technology. Like, our family phone plan would let us upgrade every year, and every year either my mom or me would get a new phone. Not my dad.”
