14. Callie
Chapter 14
Callie
I don’t know what it’s like to have a sister, but if I could be Lucie and Reagan’s third sister but not be related to Will, I’d sign up immediately.
Well, there is one way that’s possible.
Ope, too far. But I think I could argue my case for some sister adoption program. Reagan has this dark brown hair that matches Will’s; she also seems to be the more outspoken one, while Lucie’s blonde hair matches their mom’s and she is more bubbly and light. And here I am, a redhead who just wants to complete her dream of becoming the real life Powerpuff Girls.
Okay, maybe I’ve had enough eggnog.
I set down my empty drink, focusing back on Reagan as she tells the table about Will calling his teacher an asshole in high school.
“I stand by what I said.” Will pushes out his empty plate and looks at me to explain. I try to tell myself that he’s looking at me more than Adam since I’m in the middle of them, but my heart does beat a little harder when it’s more eye contact than a quick glance. “Mrs. Clancy was an asshole, not a bitch. An asshole who hated me specifically.”
“Who then hated me by extension!” Reagan exclaims.
“She liked me.” Lucie shrugs.
“Everyone likes you,” Will and Reagan both say at the same time. Their bond as siblings is clearly strong. I love Adam, but we don’t have this. We don’t have funny stories to look back on or stories from going to the same school.
Maybe it was the age difference and the fact that our parents sent us to a prep school that kept boys and girls on separate campuses. But I’m jealous of the Anderson siblings right now. They’re all relatively close in age, with Will being the oldest at twenty-eight, Reagan just slightly younger than me at twenty-five, and Lucie at twenty-three. They all went to the same schools and from what I can tell, actually spent time with each other with no obligations or strings attached.
“Okay.” Will’s mom clasps her hands together. “Before we start the long, drawn-out debate of why everyone is nice to Lucie, let’s decide—games or dessert next?”
“Games?” I ask, almost too excited at the idea. I’m down with some good healthy competition. Family game nights at the Reyer household included charades with “sophisticated” topics only. You try acting out King Henry VIII and having a good time.
“Birthday girl gets to pick.” Catherine smiles at me before turning to Will. “Will, do you mind helping clear the table?”
He nods, taking my plate first and stacking it on his.
Adam stands up, reaching for some more plates to take in the kitchen.
“Thanks, man,” Will tosses his way as Adam heads out. Will stacks some more stuff on top slowly. “Hey, don’t let Reagan talk you into Monopoly. She’s a sore loser.”
Reagan scoffs. “Don’t listen to him, Callie. He’s terrible to play with! He’ll start sweet talkin’ deals and taking all your money. He’s a con man when he plays. He’s trying to con you into playing now by placing blame on me.”
Peering up at Will, I can see this light on his face that’s been there since we all settled down to eat. He seems so comfortable here. He seems so happy.
“Oh, I think we need to play Monopoly,” I say, and Will winks at me in response before taking the dishes out.
I know there’s a blush creeping up my cheeks and I can feel his sisters’ stares. If they plan on asking if there is something going on between us, I honestly won’t know how to answer them. There are moments where our friendship definitely teeters on the flirty side of things, but I genuinely enjoy his company. I like being his friend and call me crazy, but I think he likes being my friend too…maybe more?
Maybe I’m reading too much into it, and I swore I would never date a baseball player again. But there are exceptions to every rule, right?
After clearing the table, we broke out Monopoly and let me tell you, I don’t think I’ve ever laughed this much. Like genuinely laughing with people I just met. It’s arguably one of the best days I’ve ever had and the fact that I haven’t heard from my parents today is something I’m oddly okay with.
Monopoly was the best decision I could have made. I thoroughly enjoy the sibling arguments, negotiating when rent couldn’t be paid, and rules—the rules in the Anderson Monopoly Playbook—that are apparently more like suggestions.
Lucie was the first one out, which, according to Reagan, happens every time. To which Lucie replied that her and Will’s competitiveness stresses her out. Then Will buys out his mom, much to Reagan’s protest. Catherine says she refuses to play past an hour, because it raises the stakes. Which it most certainly did because soon after Adam’s out and I’m surviving on community chests and chance cards.
My properties have all gone to Will in trades to stay alive and I can’t help but feel like my stakes weren’t ever as high as the others.
My luck is running out as my little dog lands just one short of “Go” on New York Avenue, which happens to be Will’s most valuable property.
“No,” I fake whine, and Will tenses next to me. I haven’t got shit to offer him and I know I’m screwed. “Welp, I’m out.”
At this point Adam, Catherine, and Lucie have all abandoned us to go watch holiday specials in the living room, so I scoot out my chair to join them.
Will grabs the leg of my wooden chair pulling it back in. “Hold on?—”
“Oh no, no, no,” Reagan stops before he can even get another word out. “Sorry, Callie. But she doesn’t have shit to offer you. If you want to keep her here, so you can keep looking at her every five seconds, then ask her to stay until you lose because she’s out.”
Will’s jaw clenches and his hand lets go of my chair. Tension fills the table, but I don’t think it’s because of the game. I’m honestly on cloud nine about it because a hot guy stealing glances—um, go me—obviously is good for the self-esteem. But I don’t think Will wanted me to know he was looking…or maybe he didn’t even realize he was doing it?
A timer on someone’s phone blasts from the living room and while Reagan and Will have their little stare down, everyone files back into the dining room.
“It’s almost like clockwork,” Lucie says as she comes up behind her sister. “Two hours on the dot and you two are fighting at the end of the game. We may have to set the timer for an hour and a half cutoff time now.”
Catherine chuckles as she leans over, sliding the board to the opposite end of the table. “I should have warned you, Callie, that I also have to set a timer for the game to end, or I fear Will and Reagan may kill each other.”
I chuckle lightly. “It’s okay, Adam and I would never be able to do this with our family, so this was a nice change in the holiday.”
Adam shoots me a sympathetic smile then squeezes my shoulder.
The tension that was coming off Will seems to dissipate as he stands from the table. “How about dessert?”
“I’ll help,” Adam says, releasing my shoulder to follow Will out, leaving just us girls at the table.
I start organizing the extra monopoly money on the table and hand it to Lucie while Reagan picks up the properties. “I wanted to thank you guys for letting Adam and I crash your holiday. Things have been tense with our family for so long, it’s nice to see how much fun Christmas can be. I hope we didn’t impose too much.”
“Oh, nonsense.” Catherine waves her hand, brushing off my words. “We’re happy you’re here. Will was practically on autopilot when he lived in Seattle. It’s nice to see this trade has brought you all closer together. I like seeing my boy smile for a change.”
The tug those words have on my heart is stronger than I expected.
“Did you and Will hang out in Seattle?” Lucie asks, putting on the lid to the game and sliding it to the end of the table.
“No, to be honest, I think I was on autopilot too for this past year while living with Adam. I never hung out with him while he was with the team and left his games right after they ended. I’ve been holding a bit of a grudge against baseball players for a while now. Bad ex, he kind of put a bad taste in my mouth for dating baseball players.” And when I realize how that sounds, I add, “Or being around them for that matter.”
Reagan and Lucie give each other a quick glance but I don’t really get a read on if it’s a good or bad telepathic message they’ve sent each other. It seems silly to care, but I want them to like me.
Behind me, I hear the start of the birthday song. Turning my head, I see Adam walking in with a round cake in his hands and Will trailing in behind him. Everyone around me starts to join in singing and when Adam sets the cake in front of me, the tears pool in my eyes at the realization that this was actually planned for me.
On the top it reads “ Happy (first) Birthday, Callie.” Beautiful icing flowers decorate the sides, and it even has a “1” candle lit on it.
When the singing stops, I have to wipe the escaped tears from my cheek before blowing out the candle. My wish is to pull myself back together because I’m about to look like a mess if I can’t get my emotions in check—but I’m pretty sure I’m already failing.
“Adam, you didn’t have to get me a cake.” I chuckle through the happy tears.
Much to my surprise, Adam replies, “Oh, I can’t take credit for this, Cals.”
Lucie raises her hand slowly. “I made it, but it was Will’s idea. He said you like chocolate cake with chocolate buttercream filling. I hope that’s okay.”
Will did this? This was his idea? I turn to him slowly, but he doesn’t meet my eyes.
“Adam told me the flavor, but?—”
“It’s perfect, thank you.” I don’t let the fact that he won’t make eye contact bother me. I can’t, because then I look back at this cake and no matter who did what, it means so much to me.
I pull out the candle and lick the icing off the bottom. My word, it’s good. “Since it’s my ‘first’ birthday, I want the piece with my name on it.”
“Coming right up.” Reagan picks my cake back up and carries it back to the kitchen.
When Lucie gets up to follow behind her she leans down next to me. “Happy birthday, Callie. Please don’t take this the wrong way but you have a little mascara under your eyes.”
Great. Kill me now.
“Mine and Reagan’s old rooms have a Jack and Jill bathroom. We crash here a lot so there’s tons of stuff that we leave in there. Use whatever you want.”
“You angel,” I whisper. “Thank you.”
Fucking mascara. I try to wipe a little out from under my eyes as I excuse myself upstairs, but as I reach the top, I realize that Lucie didn’t specify a door. I go for the first one on the right, and I’m pretty sure I’ve just walked into Will’s old room.
There are some baseball and motocross posters on the walls and medals and trophies that take up almost an entire bookcase. I check the back of his door because finding a poster of a girl out of a Sports Illustrated magazine would make my fucking day, but it’s bare.
I’m dying to snoop, but I know I shouldn’t. Shutting his door, I decide on the door across the hall and find a room filled with bright colors—this one has got to be Lucie’s.
After quickly freshening up, I tell myself to go straight downstairs, but impulsive me takes control of my body and somehow my hand is twisting the doorknob to Will’s room again.
Walking up to the bookshelf first, I see a mix of baseball and motocross everything. Baseball medals, motocross trophies, pictures of him throughout the years in both. I feel like I can say confidently that his mom set all of this up and he never argued.
“Sneaking away from your own party?” Will’s voice makes me jump back from the shelf.
“I got a little confused finding my way back,” I blurt out the obvious lie.
He walks up next to me with a quirked eyebrow and one corner of his mouth tugs up at my ridiculous excuse. “Okay, Callie, whatever you say.”
Knots start to form in my stomach. I should be embarrassed that he caught me snooping but I don’t think he cares. He almost seems happy that he found me up here.
I don’t even know how to begin to express how much today has meant to me. This was everything I ever wanted out of this day. I didn’t need the big parties or any presents, I just needed someone to show that they actually cared.
I open my mouth, unsure of what will come out first, but Will holds up a little ornament. It's a frame made with macaroni noodles and extremely worn stickers.
“I’m sure this wasn’t the present you were expecting, but you said that you were never allowed to have those shitty self-made ornaments on your tree, and I thought maybe this could be your first one.”
Will hands me the ornament, and my mouth is still open but there are no words coming out of it. I’m freaking speechless.
My fingers tremble slightly as I take it from him. Looking at the picture in the ornament, I see it’s a smaller version of one I just saw on the shelf.
“It seemed only fitting that you get your picture of me in my motocross stuff since you rode on my bike.”
He’s giving me this ornament…that he made himself…because I talked about wanting them on my tree. And the picture that’s in it is a picture I talked about a month ago.
I can’t tear my eyes away from the gift. I’m in complete shock.
Will runs his hand through his hair. “If you don’t like it, you don’t?—”
Impulsive me is still very much in control because before he can finish that sentence, I move up on my tiptoes and place my lips to his.
The kiss is soft and quick…but nice… As I slowly move back to my heels, I feel how stiff Will’s body is, and I already want to run and hide.
I just kissed him. My only real friend here and I kissed him.
“Sorry, I—I,” I stumble over my words. I don’t even really know what to say, but I need to fill this silence. “I shouldn’t have done that. We’re at your family’s house, my brother’s here, you’re a player on the team. I just—I’m sorry.”
Maybe I was in the wrong by taking control like that. Maybe I crossed a boundary that we should have talked about before. I had gone on and on about unwelcome advances and here I was doing exactly that tonight.
And what am I doing, really? Do I like Will or am I just caught up in all of the sentimental aspects of this day? No one has ever thrown a party for me before or given me such a heartfelt gift, but maybe I’m misreading this whole situation. I mean, I do overthink things. Is this just normal friend behavior? Wyla has been my only real friend and she’s only gotten me gag gifts before.
Will continues to look at me with this unreadable look on his face, and I should stop talking, I really should, but I count two whole seconds of deafening silence before I start again.
“That was a mistake, I shouldn’t have?—”
“A mistake?”