Chapter 7 #2
"I have no idea what you're talking about." I gather everything, carry it to the kitchen, well aware my face is getting redder by the minute.
"Mm-hmm."
I busy myself at the sink and absolutely do not think about Callahan naked in that shower.
I stay for dinner and help Callahan clean up afterward. He'd made one of the four things he can make, according to him, and tonight it was pasta. Delicious, actually, not that I'd give him the satisfaction of saying so.
By the time I check my phone, it's past eight and the window is black. I'd walked here. The walk is twenty minutes of quiet, and I like the way the town looks in late afternoon with light going gold over the harbor. But the light is long gone now. The street outside is dark and cold.
"I should go." I stand and reach for my things. "It's late."
"How'd you get here?" Callahan asks from the kitchen doorway.
"Walked."
"You walked?"
"I walk every day. It's twenty minutes."
"It's twenty minutes in daylight, Lily. Now it's dark."
"I have a phone. With a flashlight. I'll be fine."
With an exasperated sigh he says "I'll drive you."
"You don't have to do that."
"I'll drive you."
I hold his gaze. I always do, even when I shouldn't, and when his eyes move over my face my skin hums with it. I forget what I'd been about to say. Forget that his father is sitting eight feet away watching us like we're the season finale of his favorite show.
"Fine." I turn to Will and tell him goodnight.
"Goodnight, sweetheart." He catches my hand as I pass and squeezes it. "Same time tomorrow?"
"Same time tomorrow."
Callahan is already out the door and I follow him out into the cold. The night air bites my arms immediately and I wrap them around myself.
I'd seen the Escalade before, but I'd never stood next to it. This thing is not a car. It's a spacecraft. Black and gleaming and enormous. I never could have guessed that Callahan Holt drove a car that could be seen from actual space.
"This is a satellite, Callahan."
He snorts and rolls his eyes. "It's a Cadillac. An Escalade."
I walk around it. It keeps going.
"How does this even fit on the roads here? The roads here were built for horses."
He unlocks it. The headlights flash, a quiet electric hum as the whole thing wakes up, silent and massive, like a predator opening its eyes.
He opens the passenger door for me and I have to step up to get in. Actually step up, like climbing into a truck bed.
Then I see the interior. Dark leather everywhere, stitched and gleaming.
The dashboard is a single screen stretched across the entire width of the car, edge to edge, glowing with maps and displays and the ESCALADE IQ logo floating in the center like a screensaver from the future.
It's just one enormous unbroken display and ambient lighting that makes the cabin feel like the bridge of a very expensive spaceship.
I'm sitting inside a satellite that happens to have tires.
"Callahan."
"Yeah?"
"I'm rethinking medical school. If this is firefighter money, I chose wrong."
"It's not firefighter money."
I stare at the screen for a long second, then lean across the center console, close enough to smell the clean woodsy soap from his shower, and whisper:
"Drugs?"
He laughs. I've never heard him laugh. His head tips back against the headrest and the sound that comes out is completely unguarded.
I see his full teeth for the first time. Straight and white, canines slightly longer and sharper than the rest. Just enough to make the whole smile look a little wolfish. A little dangerous. I’ve obsessed over his teeth for the longest time. How is this remotely sane?
The laugh crinkles the corners of his eyes and transforms his entire face from beautiful to devastating.
Still grinning, eyes bright, he meets my gaze, smile wide and open with those canines catching the dashboard light.
"Ramsey." He shakes his head, still grinning. "It was Ramsey, you lunatic."
“Must be nice with millionaire friends,” I shrug and he only gives me a side glance.
I reach over and press the screen. The whole thing lights up. I log into my music app, scroll past anything that might mean something, and land on a playlist of modern hits. Safe. Neutral.
He glances at me. I keep my eyes on the screen. He listens for a few seconds. Nods once, slow.
"This is good."
"You sound surprised."
"I'm not surprised. I'm acknowledging."
I settle back into the seat. The leather is warm. Heated seats.
"You know, this car has every streaming service known to man. And you were listening to a preset radio station."
"I like that station."
"Callahan, you are driving what looks like a very expensive computer with a screen the size of a dining table, and you're using it to play the same twelve classic rock songs on a loop.
You are not utilizing this baby to its full potential.
" I press my hand to my chest. "I'm genuinely upset about this. "
"I'm a simple guy." He says it without apology, eyes on the road, one hand on the wheel. "Once I find something I like, I don't change my mind. That includes radio stations."
He's talking about radio stations. I'm absolutely not going to read into it. I read into it.
"Can I ask you something?"
"That depends."
"When did the Obama thing fade?"
He laughs again, cutting a sideways glance at the road before it slides back to me. "My dad ran his mouth again, I see." He doesn't answer the question.
"Stop avoiding it and tell me about your crush on THE Barack Obama."
Callahan stares at the road. A little flush creeps into his cheeks, visible even in the dark.
"Cut me some slack." His shoulders lift. "I was eleven."
"You cried during the inauguration."
"It was a historic moment. A lot of people cried."
I turn in my seat to face him fully. "So when did it fade, huh?"
He's quiet for a second, nodding like he's genuinely turning it over. Then that smile deepens and he meets my eyes, straight and unhurried.
"It didn't." Simple as that. "That man is the single most beautiful man to ever exist and the best president this country ever had and he will forever be my first love. I'm not taking that back."
I feel a flutter in my belly. I turn toward him a little more.
"Callahan Holt."
"What, Lily Moreland?" he mimics.
"That might be the most attractive thing you've ever said."
The flush on his neck deepens. I sit in the passenger seat and know, with complete certainty, that I am in so much trouble.
The town is quiet around us, the car sliding through Harbor Hill like a ship through still water.
"So. Four things." I break the silence.
"What?"
"You said you can make four things. Pasta, and breakfast, although that is not a dish. What are the other two?"
"Steak. And grilled cheese."
"Grilled cheese is not a meal."
"Again, it's a thing I can make. So yes it is."
"It's bread and cheese. That's assembly, not cooking."
"The bread is buttered and there is timing. There's technique."
"Technique." I shift in my seat, turning toward him as much as the seatbelt allows, knee angled in his direction. "So you're telling me your entire culinary repertoire is pasta, steak, grilled cheese, and the vague concept of breakfast."
"Yes," he says without shame.
"And you've survived on this for how long?"
"Twenty-nine years and counting."
"Your poor body." I click my tongue.
"My body's just fine, thank you."
He regrets it as soon as he says it. My eyes drop along his body before I can stop them. I fold my hands in my lap and say nothing. No matter how much I want to.
He casts a glance at me before returning to the road. "Wow. I fully expected a smart-ass remark there. You're more mature than I gave you credit for."
Callahan, you innocent lamb.
"Don't tell me you're disappointed I didn't jump at the chance to sexualize you." I let it hang there. "Or just jump you."
His head turns toward me, just barely. In the dashboard glow I catch his eyes go dark and his grip tighten on the wheel before he faces the road again.
"You're trouble," he grits out. "You know that?"
"Only with you."
I hadn't meant to whisper it, but it was true. He made me want to push, to see what lived underneath all that restraint. The more he pulled back, the more I leaned in. I wasn't sure that said anything good about me, but I couldn't seem to stop.
The car slows and stops in front of my building. His hands are still on the wheel. We're sitting in his car in the dark and neither of us is reaching for the door handle.
"Thank you for the ride." I make no move to leave.
"Any time."
I study him, but he's staring straight ahead, at anything that isn't me. Thumbs pressed into the steering wheel, both hands sensibly occupied.
"Goodnight, Callahan."
I bite my lip hard to keep the giggle in when I hear his sigh.
"Goodnight, Lily."
I open the door and step down from the satellite into the cold. The door closes behind me with a heavy sound. I don't look back, no matter how much I want to.
I walk to the building, unlock the front door, press my back against it and listen. The Escalade doesn't move.
I run up the stairs, not bothering with the elevator. No lights. Just me at the window, shoes still on, looking down at the street.
He's still there. I wait a few seconds, then I reach over and turn on the lamp. The headlights come on immediately.
I press my hand over my mouth. I watch the taillights disappear around the corner, slide down onto the sofa, and smile until my face hurts.