23. Calista
TWENTY-THREE
CALISTA
T he music at The Underground was booming.
It vibrated through me until I could no longer distinguish between the sound and the beating of my own heart.
It was a deep house mix that reminded me of the night Lincoln called me and asked if I could bring Sadie home for the first time.
It was maybe a month ago at this point, but it felt like forever.
It was such an odd sensation, knowing everything and nothing about Lincoln at the same time. He held his walls up high, but there were cracks beginning to form in the armor he wore so well.
I poked at the ice in my glass with a thin black straw.
From what Andrew mentioned on our walk across campus, visiting The Underground was a post-match tradition.
It wouldn’t be too far-fetched for me to believe that they had been celebrating down here that night when he asked for his favor.
Perhaps he saw the perfect opportunity and took advantage of a night of partying and no responsibility.
Harper’s cautionary words replayed in the back of my head before I could bat them away.
Maybe he had been trying to pawn some of his responsibilities on me.
Taking advantage of my kindness, as Harper had called it.
She made sense. She always did. But something deep down told me Lincoln wasn’t that kind of person.
He wouldn’t hand her off at the first ripe opportunity.
That’s why, as much as I wanted to write off the kiss we shared the other night, part of me wanted to believe it was something.
It sure felt like something. I reeled at the thought of his hands on my thighs.
His thick, coiled muscles pressed against me.
Lincoln didn’t seem like the kind of guy to get with girls for the fun of it. He barely had time for himself.
But what if I was wrong?
I leaned forward on the bar, resting my head in an open palm. Letting out a sigh, I analyzed the remnants of ice cubes in my drink. My senior year was meant to be focused on getting into Fenton’s grad program for my master’s. Not wallowing in the bar over a boy.
As I was swirling my drink around, a warm body slid in next to my stool.
I didn’t need to look away from my half-empty glass to know who it was.
The scent of Ella’s peach perfume wafted over me, and while I normally found the scent overbearing, it was a welcome change from the B.O. emitting from the guy on my right.
Ella made herself comfortable, standing with her back against the bar counter. She collected her blonde hair over her slender shoulder before leaning back on her elbows.
“Okay, what’s going on?” Ella questioned, her sharp eyes pinning me to where I sat.
I tried putting off my response by taking an extra long sip of my rum and coke. “What do you mean?”
“You and Lincoln can barely make eye contact. What happened between you two? ”
“Nothing happened,” I replied, swiveling in my seat to stare off into the bodies gyrating on the dancefloor.
She took a sip of her own drink before raising an eyebrow. “You really expect me to believe that?”
My tongue lapped at my bottom lip. “I was hoping you would.”
I was never very good at lying. Even when I was in elementary school, my classmates refused to tell me secrets because I wasn't able to lie when asked what everyone was whispering about. I didn’t blame them.
But that’s probably why Ella was able to sniff it out within a few minutes of Lincoln and me being in the same room. The woman was too well-versed in romance novels not to spot the clues.
“Go on then,” Ella prompted, a grin sliding across her face. “Spill all the tea.”
The temperature in the bar was rising by the second.
Did I want my best friends to know about the kiss?
About the feelings for Lincoln that, as much as I was trying to repress them, were becoming impossible to ignore?
The last thing I needed was either of them pitying me for harboring feelings for a boy who couldn’t return them.
I bit the inside of my cheek. “If I tell you, you have to promise me you won’t tell Harper.”
While I could take Ella’s scrutiny, I wasn’t ready for Harper’s wrath. She wasn’t a big fan of Lincoln as it was. I could only imagine what she would do to him if I told her. Especially when I didn’t know what to think of it myself.
I did a sweep of the big, open space. Andrew still had Harper locked in conversation by the billiard tables.
Her arms were crossed, swishing her drink in her hand as she looked at anything that wasn’t the freakishly tall boy who rambled on next to her.
If I wasn’t being interrogated at that very moment, I might have laughed.
Ella cocked a brow at me. “Are you planning on telling her?”
“Eventually.”
“Fine,” Ella said after a moment. “I won’t tell Harper.”
“Cross your heart and hope to die?”
Ella rolled her eyes. “Stop stalling.”
I drew in a deep breath before the words tumbled out. “The other day… Lincoln and I were at the gym and we… we ended up kissing.”
“Like kissing or kissing-kissing ?” She leaned in closer, whisper-shouting in my ear.
I brought my straw back to my lips and mumbled, “Kissing-kissing.”
Ella squealed, almost spilling her drink. When she realized I wasn’t celebrating with her, she stopped. “Why aren’t you happy dancing with me? Did something else happen?”
“No, nothing else happened,” I spun around on the stool, placing my drink down. “That’s the problem. He hasn’t even mentioned it.”
“Did he say anything before you two kissed?”
I thought about her question for a moment, drawing in the condensation on my glass. “Before he kissed me, he said he was glad I was on his team.”
A shit-eating grin erupted on Ella’s face. She gave my forearm an encouraging squeeze. “He’s into you. Lincoln Pierce is so freaking into you.”
“I don’t know…”
“Come on, Cali,” she bumped her shoulder against mine. “It’s so obvious, just by the way he looks at you. I thought he was going to pass out when you found us after the match. He couldn’t take his eyes off you.”
“You think so?”
“Even if I’m wrong, which I’m not,” Ella said with a manicured finger. “Would it be so bad if he was just looking for a little bit of fun? Would it be so bad if you were to have a little bit of fun?”
Fun? With Lincoln? The more I mulled over the thought, the harder it was coming up with negatives to that hypothetical situation. Lincoln was attractive. Hell… he was hot; one of the most beautiful men I had come across on campus.
Ella pressed on in my silence. “Lincoln’s passing Hamilton’s class. You guys are getting closer… would it be so bad to have something casual?”
Casual .
That was a word I was afraid of. I wasn’t opposed to casual relationships. I had a couple myself a few years prior, before college consumed my life. But would I be okay with a casual relationship with Lincoln? Especially since I was already catching feelings?
I gnawed on the inside of my cheek. “I don’t know, El. My head has been a mess since it happened.”
Ella’s gaze softened. The buzz of excitement that was coming off her began to calm. “You really like him, don’t you?”
I shrugged, bringing my bottom lip into my mouth. “I think I do. More than I probably should.”
Ella leaned in closer, nudging me with her shoulder again. “Go and talk to him.”
“Right now?”
“Right now,” Ella ordered. Her hand wrapped around my wrist, guiding me out of my seat.
Once I was standing on two feet, she picked both of our drinks off the bar, handing mine to me.
Without giving me a chance to lose my wit, Ella linked her arm with mine and hauled me across the bar towards the billiards tables.
As we neared the games, Ella shoved me in the direction of a nearby wall where Lincoln stood before detouring off towards a cross Harper.
“Hey,” I squeaked when Lincoln’s dark eyes fell on me. I wasn’t sure if he heard my greeting over the music, but then he responded.
“I wasn’t expecting you to show up tonight.”
That simple sentence caused the nerves that had bundled within my stomach to tangle even more. I really hoped he didn’t think I was stalking him.
“If I’m being completely honest, neither was I.”
Lincoln gave a thoughtful nod. His shoulder was pressed against the exposed brick wall, his hands stuffed deep within the pockets of his joggers.
The Underground didn’t have a dress code, but most students around campus used their nights out there as an opportunity to show off their fashion sense.
Needless to say, Lincoln stood out like a sore thumb.
“Not thirsty?” I asked, settling in on the wall next to him.
When he raised an eyebrow at me, I clanked a fingernail against my glass.
“I’m good,” he responded with a shake of his head.
“Are you sure?” I held the drink out between us. “You can have a sip of mine.”
It wasn’t as if we hadn’t already swapped spit.
“I don’t drink,” Lincoln declared.
“Really?” I twisted my body to face him. “Does Whitmore’s meal plan prohibit alcohol?”
“No,” Lincoln drawled. He hesitated for a second before continuing. “It’s a… personal choice. ”
If this were a conversation we were having during a study session, I probably would have left it at that.
Lincoln didn’t have to explain himself to me, despite my wanting to delve deeper.
Unfortunately for him, I was already feeling a bit of a buzz, and any caution I would have otherwise was being tossed into the wind.
“Does this have something to do with you being a control freak?” I flashed him a teasing grin.
Lincoln coughed out a laugh. His hand rose, trying to wipe the smile off his face. “I guess you could say that.”
“That’s unfortunate,” I said, peering up at him through my lashes. “I feel like you would be a fun drunk.”
Lincoln’s dark eyes locked with mine. They were hypnotizing. “I don’t need alcohol to have a good time.”
“Prove it,” I challenged, bringing my drink to my lips.
He paused for a moment, glancing over his shoulder at the empty billiard table. “Face me in a game of pool?”
“I don’t know how to play.”
A grin inched onto Lincoln’s face as he pushed himself off the wall. “Well then, I guess it’s my turn to teach you something.”
“Like this?” I asked, leaning over the billiard table with the cue in hand.
“You’re getting there,” Lincoln said. “But angle it more like this.”
I felt his calloused hands enclose around mine as he guided me into position. His hard chest pressed into part of my back, and I tried not to let the butterflies in my stomach get the best of me. He moved my arm, getting me used to the motion .
“Just like that,” he said, his breath warm against my ear.
I swallowed. What was this man doing to me?
Instead of releasing me, he continued to guide me, helping me strike the white ball into another. His aim was so precise, so sharp. The balls connected with a clack —sending another flying across the table and into a corner pocket.
I jumped up with a cheer, giving a little happy dance. “If you keep this up, I’m going to end up winning.”
“Luckily for you, I’m not a sore loser.”
I turned to face him, and my mind stalled when I realized how close he was.
Lincoln was mere inches from me, the space between our bodies minuscule.
Every other time he had helped me with a shot, he was on the other side of the table before my body was even upright.
This time he stayed. My skin buzzed at his proximity.
I pressed my back against the billiard table, using it to keep my legs from giving out on me. His hands were back in his pockets, the veins in his forearms visible. It was as if he were straining not to touch me, trying to practice self-control.
I wished he wouldn’t.
The rest of the world fell away when he looked at me like that. But this time, I wasn’t able to enjoy it. The familiar sensation of someone staring at me forced me back to reality.
Whoever it was, they were burning a hole in the side of my head. I was tempted to ignore it, thinking it was Ella wiggling her eyebrows at me from the bar again. But when I checked, she was deep in conversation with Harper and a group of girls I didn’t recognize.
Unable to shake the feeling, I scanned the room.
My eyes glanced over the dance floor before landing on a man on the far side of The Underground.
He was in the opening of the hall that led to the washrooms. The vibes he was giving me were questionable.
He stood there in a power stance with his arms crossed—just staring.
It was then that I realized that I recognized him. I just couldn’t place where.
“Do you know him?” I asked Lincoln, taking in the man standing on the other side of the room. Between the lighting and the distance, it was hard to see any defining features. But even from our spot by the billiard tables, I noticed the salt and pepper hair and his stubbled chin.
“I—” Lincoln interrupted himself. “I’ll be right back.”
Without any further explanation, Lincoln stepped away from me and moved deeper into the bodies of mingling university students. I watched as he reached the opening of the hallway, brushing past the middle-aged man before disappearing around the corner and out of sight.