Chapter 7 #2
“My parents would drag me to events all over the world. I rarely had time to explore like I wanted to.”
“Oh, how you suffered,” he jokes, but I can’t even fake a smile. He has no idea what I’ve been through. What my name and legacy mean to my family. What I must carry forward. For them. Never for me.
“I did, Caleb. My childhood was not…ideal.”
He blinks at me, his face falling.
“Care to elaborate?” he asks gently.
“No.”
I don’t want to bring that up, not now. Silence strains between us, my father’s voice making an appearance in my mind. I can’t keep this up. I told myself not to, and here I am holding his hand.
This is wrong. All of this is wrong.
I gently pull my hand from his, wiping my palm on my pants, and then place it back on the steering wheel. He sees it all, and I can sense his despair. He hides nothing.
“Sorry, man,” he mutters. “I just want to know you.”
He can’t. Doesn’t he know? He fucking can’t.
“I don’t want to be known, Caleb.”
He snorts in derision and then folds his arms across his chest, staring out the window.
When we arrive back at the apartment, Caleb is in a mood and I feel it, every bit of it, the way he won’t even look at me, how he seems to lean away from me.
This is exactly what I need. I need him to dislike me. To not want me.
As soon as the apartment door closes and I flick the lock in place, I turn toward him. “I think we should end this before you get hurt.”
He scoffs. “Oh, only I’d get hurt?”
He has no idea how much I ache already, how bruised my heart already feels. And it’s only been a day. My fingers tap a nervous rhythm on my leg.
“Yes, it’s for the best. You’re straight. This isn’t you. It’s a phase and…experimentation.”
“That so?”
I squeeze my leg tightly and nod. “You’re not my type, as we’ve established. And I’m clearly not yours.”
“You sure?” he asks, and our eyes clash.
“Stop it, Caleb. We should remain roommates, and that’s all. This whole thing was a bit of a mistake.”
He arches an eyebrow at me and then shrugs, like he doesn’t care. But I can tell he does.
“Whatever you want, dude.”
He pulls his shirt over his head and tosses it on the floor. I glance at it and swallow roughly. He unbuttons his pants next and kicks them off as he moves toward the bathroom.
He’s wreaking havoc in our apartment, the same chaos he’s leaving inside me.
“I’m going to shower,” he says.
My eyes flick to the clothes and then to him, the way his muscles ripple, the shape of his ass. He’s a detriment to everything I’m trying to uphold.
My irritation spikes.
“Pick up your clothes first.”
“Nah,” he says with a wink. “I’ll do it later, roomie.”
My skin flushes, my body tight and warm as he brushes past me. His hand touches mine, just once, and I can’t help but reach out and grab it.
“It’s for the best,” I say, my words tight and low.
“Is it?”
“You’ll see.” I let him go, watching him disappear into the bathroom without a backward glance.
The next several days are excruciating. I’m dealing with my parents every day, forced into conversations about my future. Plans I want no involvement in, but ones I know they won’t let me walk away from easily. No, if I leave them, if I disappoint them, it will be painful—a brutal amputation.
So, I’m left to make decisions. Big ones.
It’s taking a toll on me. I want to curl up in my bed and hide away, but I can’t.
This is who I am, who I was born to be. I can never be myself. It doesn’t help that Caleb isn’t around much, either. He’s either been in class or working extra hours—at the scrapyard, I guess.
I remember him mentioning that he had a job there, but I don’t think I was truly listening.
My eyes were focused on his face, the way he spoke, the way his lips moved.
I regret that now. I regret so much of my life.
It doesn’t help that when I see him in passing, his eyes soften, his cheeks flushing pink.
I hate to admit it, but I miss him.
I want him to crawl into my bed when he comes home from work late at night, but he doesn’t. He just slides under his own covers, like he should, and falls asleep.
By Friday, I’m sleep-deprived and desperate.
When I see Caleb is going out, looking put-together and sexy, I nearly crumple. He looks good messy, but that clean white t-shirt, flannel, and blue jeans are doing things to me.
I never thought I’d like a rugged man, but I do.
“Where are you going?” I find myself asking.
“Out,” he replies, looking away from me.
I shift on my feet and clear my throat, hating the way he sounds so dismissive. But this is what I wanted. I wanted distance, time apart. To be simply roommates.
“Obviously. Where are you going?” I ask despite telling myself that not knowing is better.
“What’s it to you?” He leans against the door, folding his arms across his chest. His shirt pulls deliciously against his pecs, and I see the indent of his nipple ring right there. It’s daring me not to notice, but fuck, I do.
I notice everything about him.
“I haven’t seen you.”
His eyes narrow. “That wasn’t by design?”
I glance away, shoving my hands in my pockets. He has no idea what I’ve been dealing with. Of course he doesn’t. I haven’t told him anything about my fucked-up life. Of what I’ve had to deal with the past few days.
He huffs in annoyance at my silence and adds, “Look, you don’t need to pretend to care, alright? We can just avoid each other like we’ve been doing, yeah? Better to be roommates like you said.”
I don’t know what to say to that because he’s right. Fuck, he’s right. We’d be better off as neutral, uncomplicated, just two people sharing a roof, a bedroom. Nothing more.
Whatever that thing was between us in the desert should be buried along with my hopes and dreams for the future. Right with the belief that maybe one day I could have something for myself.
“I need to go, man. Got to get some.”
He starts to leave, but the thought of him going out to a bar without me has my heart racing and my stomach roiling.
Jealousy. That’s what I feel.
Pure, unadulterated jealousy.
“Wait. Can I…” I hesitate, my breath stuttering out of me as I unexpectedly ask, “Can I join you?”
His eyebrows rise in surprise. “For reals?” He rolls his lips between his teeth and then shrugs. “If you want.”
“I do.”
And I know I shouldn’t, but I follow him out to his Jeep, feeling like I’m making a huge mistake but unable to stop myself. I’m walking into something that will probably swallow me whole, but I don’t stop myself.
I’m caught between desperation and denial, and I think there’s no way out but through him.
“This bar we’re going to is probably not your scene,” he tells me as I slide into the passenger seat. My feet hit some empty soda cans on the ground and a few old receipts, but I say nothing about the mess. How can I judge him when my own life is a fucking dumpster fire?
I stare out the window and bite my tongue. Of course, this place won’t be my scene. Why would it be? We’re so fucking different. In so many ways.
He sighs loudly and puts the truck in gear.
My eyes slide to the way he grips that shifter, and I feel my body light up.
How he manages to make simple things sexual is a phenomenon that needs to be studied.
My fingers itch to tap in that telltale nervous rhythm, but I shove them under my thighs instead.
I don’t want him to know how affected I am by him.
Thankfully, the bar is nearby. Which means I’m spared the agony of watching him fondle the stick shift like it’s an extension of himself.
When I hop out, I see Mal instantly. He towers over everyone, his tattooed arms waving us over.
I follow behind Caleb as he makes his way through the crowd to where Mal and a beautiful woman are waiting.
She has long, dark hair and deep blue eyes.
Gorgeous is the first word I think of when I see her.
Mal’s eyes narrow when he sees me, and I wonder if Caleb told him how I behaved after our trip to see his family. Still, I manage a small smile as Caleb slaps Mal’s back before pulling the woman off her feet and pressing a kiss to her temple.
Something ugly flutters inside me.
“Hey, Whit,” Mal nods at me, and then peers over at his best friend.
“Hello,” I say as my arm bumps Caleb’s. Just touching him like this is enough to send a shiver down my spine.
Mal leans over and whispers something in Caleb’s ear. As he does that, the gorgeous woman gives me a wide smile.
“Hey! You must be Whit. I’m Bree. I’ve heard so much about you.”
My cheeks warm. “Yeah?”
“Yeah, all good things, I promise.” She makes a cross over her heart, and I soften slightly. On top of being beautiful, she’s kind. I see why Mal and Caleb like her.
I peer over at Caleb, and he catches my eye, like he was waiting for me to look. Something dangerous flutters in my stomach, something impossible to ignore. I know what it is, but I can’t admit it. Not yet.
“Alright, well, let’s grab our drinks and then find a table. Then we can get to work,” Mal says, eyeing me suspiciously.
I don’t fucking know what he means by that, but when we find a table, I realize I’m out of my element. I order a double gin and tonic to help ease my nerves. I don’t like to drink—mainly because of my mother—but sometimes the situation calls for it.
And this one definitely does.
Because Caleb is sitting next to me, pressed in far too close. He has to be doing this on purpose, getting me all riled up as punishment for telling him things needed to end between us.
“Alright, bro,” Mal says, stretching his muscular arm around Bree. “Let’s see who we can find for ya.”
My heart stutters. Oh god, he’s really going through with it? This isn’t just a friendly get-together. Caleb is really here to find someone.
Someone other than me.
“What about her?” Bree asks, pointing to a brown-haired woman leaning up against the wall. She’s wearing cowboy boots and a short white dress. She looks fun and free. So unlike my emo self.