Chapter 34
CALLUM
High Hopes - Panic! At The Disco
Callum was finally—and happily—sprawled on his couch, half-listening to the chaos around him.
It was Board Night. Leif and Asma were there, along with Sebastian and Omar, two French rugby players they’d met years ago who had become regulars in their friend group whenever they weren’t off traveling internationally during the season.
“So, are you and Ale a thing or what?” Asma asked, her head resting on Omar’s shoulder, much to Leif’s very visible disgust.
Sebastian caught it immediately, shooting Callum a knowing look. Asma, however, seemed blissfully unaware—or just didn’t care—about the quiet tension her newfound relationship had injected into the group.
Callum had walked into that mess tonight. One week away, and suddenly everything had shifted.
Omar and Asma were now a thing.
And Leif looked like a Viking who’d just been betrayed by his blood brother. Which was complicated. Because Callum knew Leif genuinely liked Omar. Not in a casual way. Not in a we’ll laugh about this later way. In a real way. And this is going to explode at some point.
Callum just prayed it wouldn’t be tonight.
He needed this. Needed to sit here, drink a beer, crush everyone at Risk, and pretend his life wasn’t quietly unraveling in multiple directions at once. Because right now, the only thing keeping him afloat was a woman living in Spain.
“We’re… getting to know each other,” Callum said, trying to keep his tone casual, unaffected.
Which was a lie. Or at least, an understatement.
You don’t think about someone like that if you’re just “getting to know them.”
He could feel Leif’s relief from across the room, that the spotlight had shifted away from Omar and Asma.
“I can’t believe you’re dating Alejandra López Romero,” Sebastian said, raising a blond eyebrow. “Omar had a thing for her at the Olympics and she didn’t even look at him.”
“In my defense, everyone had a crush on her, and she had a boyfriend back then,” Omar admitted easily. “Another surfer from the UK, I think. She was off-limits.”
“She can be a stuck-up bitch sometimes,” Asma added, far too casually.
Callum pinched the bridge of his nose. “Asma, could you not?”
“What? I love her,” she said, waving a hand dismissively. “But the no contact thing? Come on. Who does that? Who ghosts Callum fucking Evans?”
“A professional athlete?” Sebastian offered. “It’s ingrained in our minds since we’re kids. The goal is to win, and Ale’s one of the most focused people I’ve met. After winning gold at the Olympics, she was already thinking about winning another USL title. She’s obsessed with being the best.”
Then he looked directly at Callum.
“How’s she doing since the injury?”
Callum exhaled slowly, gaze drifting for a second before he could stop it.
“Not great,” he admitted. “She spiraled a bit in Ericeira.”
Understatement of the century.
“I get it, though,” he added quickly. “When I blew out my knee and missed the Olympics, I felt like I didn’t exist anymore.”
“Ooooh,” Asma cooed sarcastically. “Cute. Trauma bonding.”
“Why are you like this tonight?” Callum groaned.
He couldn’t deal with this. Not tonight. Not when everything already felt too close to the surface.
She smirked, unapologetic. “Because it’s fun watching my best friend fall in love with someone who took way too long to realize how much of a prize he is.”
Callum stilled for half a second.
Fall in love. That’s not— That’s not what this is. Is it?
“Someone should take their own advice,” Leif muttered under his breath.
Sebastian patted his shoulder, handing him a beer that Leif took and basically chugged.
Yeah. That definitely wasn’t good.
This is going to blow up. Not tonight. But soon.
“At least Ale focused on her career,” Omar said calmly, his voice steady as ever. It was almost disarming, how grounded he always sounded. “Can’t fault someone for that, Asma. You’re one of the most career-driven people I know.”
Asma shrugged, snuggling deeper into his side.
“I just want Ale to realize how good Callum could be for her. Not just sexually,” she added with a teasing grin.
“Callum ‘the Magic Dick’ Evans,” Sebastian crowed, way too pleased with himself.
Callum sighed, dragging a hand down his face.
Why do I invite them again? Oh right. Because without them, I’d be alone with my thoughts. And that was worse.
“Have you seen what Vanessa’s doing now?” Leif asked suddenly, shifting the mood, and clearly the topic.
Callum froze internally. He didn’t know what he hated more—talking about his dick, or having his ex brought up immediately after talking about his dick.
“What did she do now?”
“Since you’re chronically offline, I’ll update you,” Asma said gleefully.
Of course she would. Shit-talking Vanessa was practically a hobby for her.
Wonder if she’ll do the same to me when I inevitably fuck something up. Especially with that sabbatical idea Leif had planted in his head, one he couldn’t shake. It sat there. Persistent. Almost as loud as the memory of Alejandra’s cunt on his mouth.
“She’s aligned herself with some far-right party in Wales, right?”
Callum nodded. His mum had already sent him about twelve messages on WhatsApps about it.
“Yeah. It’s embarrassing.”
“She’s now saying immigrants are stealing jobs—”
“—which is true,” Sebastian cut in, deadpan in his French accent. “We came to the UK, stole British jobs. She has a point.”
Callum huffed a quiet laugh despite himself.
“Oh, and let’s not forget Ale,” Sebastian continued, grinning. “She’s out here stealing pure British sperm—”
“—I’m Welsh,” Callum cut in automatically.
Sebastian waved him off. “Details. And you, Asma? Clearly seduced by a giant Frenchman.” Then he pointed at Leif. “And this guy? Many women would love to have his children.”
Leif rolled his eyes, muttering something in Swedish.
Definitely not in the mood.
“But seriously,” Asma said, her expression souring now. “Vanessa’s influencing kids with her bullshit. Millions of followers, and none of her data is real. It’s all made-up crap, and people believe her.”
Callum leaned back into the couch, staring at the ceiling for a second.
There was a time in which Vanessa was his problem, now it felt like a distant memory and nothing more.
What she had turned into, he somehow had predicted it—her devotion, her desire of power, new positions opened in the right wing.
He was quite sure that even though she would believe most of those idiotic things she shared online, she amplified it for the sake of gathering votes.
“She’s dating that politician now… what’s his name?” Leif frowned.
“Please don’t say Garramond,” Callum groaned.
“That one,” Leif confirmed.
“Isn’t he, like… ancient?” Callum asked.
“Sixty-something,” Asma said, visibly disgusted. “She’s completely lost it.”
Sebastian shook his head. “And she’ll lose it even more when you go public with Ale.”
Callum’s chest tightened slightly.
When. Not if.
“When,” Sebastian repeated, grinning, looking at him pointedly, probably sensing his doubt or realization. “I can see the headlines now: ‘Hot Ex of Welsh Far-Right Politician Now Dating Sexy Spanish Surfer.’”
Callum shook his head, letting out a breath.
“Yeah, well… when the time comes, I’ll deal with it.”
If the time comes.
If she even wants that.
If this doesn’t fall apart before it even starts.
He truly trusted that whatever was going on between him and Alejandra, it was actually meaningful, but he knew she was in a very delicate moment of her life and she was standing on shaky grounds. He wanted to give her stability, but did she want it from him?
“For now,” he added, pushing himself forward slightly, grabbing the Risk box, “can we just play? I need to conquer the world to get my adrenaline fix since Ale’s not around.”
“Oh, he’s joking now?” Sebastian laughed. “He’s so fucking in love.”
Callum didn’t answer. Didn’t roll his eyes.
Didn’t argue. He just focused on setting up the board, on handing out territories, on anything that required his hands, his attention.
The room buzzed back to life around him.
Arguments over rules. Someone accusing Sebastian of cheating before the game had even started.
Leif opening another beer. Asma laughing too loud at something Omar whispered in her ear.
Callum placed his pieces down carefully. But his mind drifted anyway. To sun-warmed skin.
To salt in the air. To a girl who looked fearless on a board, and completely lost when she wasn’t.
Is she okay? Did she go to that appointment? Is she pushing me away again?
His grip tightened slightly around the dice.
“Your turn, Evans,” Leif said.
Callum blinked, snapping back.
“Yeah,” he muttered, rolling the dice.
They clattered across the board.
Random. Unpredictable. Out of his control. He watched them settle. They were yet another representation of life. And yet, he felt it was time for him to take control of it again.