Page 8 of We Thought We Were Invincible
“What do you want?” She lifted her head to look at me.
“That's not a thank you.” God, why did I always say things like that around her?
She let out a grunt. I chuckled, trying to hide my nervousness as I sat beside her.
“To tell you the truth,” I started, turning serious. “I was worried about you.”
“Since when do you care?”
Okay, maybe I deserved that.
I didn't answer her question, but only because I knew she'd laugh in my face if I said it out loud. I knew what she thought of me. She never tried to hide it. Her bluntness was one of the things I'd always liked about her.
“Senior year starts on Monday,” I said instead.
“No shit, Sherlock.”
I grinned in the dark. “Can we call a truce?”
“Why?” Skepticism clouded her voice.
“Well, I did just beat up the prized football team's tight end for you.”
That finally got her to laugh. “I meant why do you want a truce?”
“I've always wanted us to be friends. You're the one who hates me.” The truth of my words stung as I spoke them, but I hid it with a smirk.
“I'm not going to stop fighting you.”
“Good.” I laughed, glad she was considering it. “We couldn't have that.”
Her laugh was interrupted by uncontrollable shivering.
“I'm such an idiot.”
“No argument here.” Her teeth chattered.
“You're freezing.” I pulled my shirt over my head.
“What're you doing?” She shrank away.
“Getting you out of your wet shirt at least.” Holding my dry one out to her, “Take this.”
She was so cold she didn't argue or even wait for me to turn away before stripping off her sopping shirt. Her skin shone in the dark and I had to bury my hands in the sand to keep from reaching out to touch her. Having mercy on me, she threw my shirt on over her head. God, she looked good in that shirt.
Callie wasn't the usual kind of girl I'd dated and there'd been a lot of them. I wasn't what you'd call the relationship type. But there'd always been something about this girl that kept me around. It helped that her brother was my best friend, and I spent more time at their house than my own.
I watched her, my eyes latching onto hers.
“Thank you,” she said.
“It's just a shirt.”
“No, I mean for earlier.”
My lips turned up. Maybe Callie and I could be friends after all. “Just make me a promise.”
“What?”
