Chapter 25
Lana
I didn’t see him for the next few days, and honestly, it was a relief.
The distance let me focus on my essay instead of replaying that night in my head.
I set a hard deadline to finish by today, and I did.
I only needed three thousand words, which wasn’t much.
I stayed in the library until it closed every day, and I only went back to the house to sleep, slipping in late and leaving early, successfully avoiding any and all interactions.
It was done, and I read through the final sentence, my eyes scanning the carefully constructed argument one last time.
I was proud of it. It was a piece of work I didn’t think would work out for me, but it did.
I ran a final spell check, corrected a few minor punctuation errors, and then hit ‘print.’ Professor Hayes always expected us to print our essays, which gave me an excuse to print them twice and keep one copy on my desk.
While I waited, I decided to print a third copy.
I didn’t owe him anything, and I wasn’t even sure he’d want to read it, but I wanted to offer Callan a copy since he had let me write about his set.
Once everything was printed, I stacked the freshly printed pages and clipped them together.
One copy stayed on my desk, another got put in a folder to take to Professor Hayes, and the last one lingered in my hands.
I thought about it again, going through all the possible outcomes of giving it to him.
He could act as if he cared, read it, and tell me it was good.
He could deny it, not wanting to read it.
Or he could genuinely want to read it and show interest in it.
That’d be the least he could do to show a bit of respect.
With my stomach growling because I had only eaten a granola bar since this morning, I got up from my desk and told myself that if he was downstairs, I would hand the copy to him. If not, I’d take it back upstairs and leave it by his door.
When I reached the bottom of the stairs, I glanced over to the filming room to see if I could spot anyone. I had heard voices earlier, but it looked like they had left. When I turned toward the kitchen, I saw Callan standing by the counter. His back was to me, and I forced myself to keep walking.
He turned at the sound of my footsteps, and I froze for a second.
My heart skipped a beat in the most annoying way possible, and I wanted to roll my eyes at the feelings I tried so hard to ignore.
His eyes met mine, but he didn’t say anything.
He just watched me with that tight expression, not letting me read what he was thinking.
I tightened my grip on the essay and forced my feet to move, then walked to the fridge, pulled it open, and stared blankly at its contents. The lack of food reminded me why I hadn’t eaten much all day. I had to go gro—
“We can go grocery shopping again if you want. It’s pretty empty,” he said, interrupting my thoughts.
I closed the fridge again and turned to face him with a tight smile. “Sure.”
“When do you have time?”
I didn’t like the casual tone he was trying to force on me, and I didn’t know if he actually cared about the fridge being full. It felt like something he would say to pull me back in and get me comfortable around him again.
Maybe I was overthinking it, but I couldn’t shake the doubt.
I shrugged. “I have time tomorrow.”
“Okay. We can go tomorrow.”
“Fine,” I replied, nonchalantly.
A hint of amusement flashed in his eyes, and I wanted to scream at him. I hated that I was so affected by him, and that he didn’t seem to feel the same.
“Is that your essay?” He nodded to the papers in my hand.
I looked down and felt my body tensing. “Yes.” I cleared my throat and held it out to him. “I printed out an extra copy. I thought you might want to read it. Since you let me use your set for the topic and all.”
He stared at me for a long moment, his eyes searching mine, as if he was trying to find a hidden motive. Then, he slowly stepped closer to close the distance between us. He reached out, taking the papers from my hand.
“It’s only six pages. Well, it should’ve been shorter, but I had so many things to write.”
He looked down at the title page for a second before his eyes met mine again. “I’ll read it,” he told me, his voice filled with sincerity.
I just nodded and was ready to leave the kitchen again, but he decided to ask me a question I thought wasn’t nice to ask, considering the way he treated me that night. Then again, I had no right to be pissed at him when we never agreed to be more than just a fun time.
“How are you doing, Lana?”
Biting the insides of my cheeks, I watched him for a moment before shrugging and replying with, “I’m fine.”
It felt, and probably also sounded, like a lie, and he didn’t look too convinced either.
But that didn’t mean he actually cared about how I felt.
His eyes lingered on mine for a long while, then he nodded and lifted his hand to scratch the side of his head.
His gaze dropped to the essay, and because there was nothing else coming out of him, I decided to leave.
“I’m going back upstairs,” I told him, vaguely gesturing toward the stairs.
“No, wait.” His gaze met mine again, and I froze as he took a step closer. “If you’re hungry, we can go to the grocery store now.”
I didn’t move my eyes off him as I tried to decide whether or not that was a good idea right now. I was hungry, and there was nothing in the fridge. Then again, we had already agreed on going tomorrow, so why would I change my mind about it now?
My stomach growled in protest, signaling that going another day without food would have painful consequences.
I often woke up with stomach cramps, and I had gotten used to not eating three meals a day because it’s been that way since I was little, but now that I had the option to get food, it would’ve been stupid not to say yes.
“Okay. We can go now.”
“Good.” He smiled and lifted the essay. “I’ll bring this to my room to read when we come back. Are you ready to leave?”
I looked down at myself, deciding that the sweatpants and sweater combo I was wearing would do. “Yes, I’m ready.”
He told me to wait downstairs while he headed up for just a moment, and when he came back, we went out to his car and drove to the nearest grocery store.
Once we were there, I grabbed a cart and pushed it forward. Callan followed behind me with an easy, unbothered pace. He tossed random things into the cart, while I checked labels and compared prices.
We stayed quiet, and though I had nothing to say, I hated the silence.
Callan must have felt the same. I saw it in the way he watched me, like he was building up to something he wasn’t sure how to say out loud. I ignored him and kept walking, but when we stood in the snack aisle too long, he finally spoke.
“We’re cool, right?”
I frowned and looked at him even though every part of me didn’t want to. “Of course, we are.”
“Doesn’t feel like we are.” His expression was hard.
“I wonder why,” I muttered, rolling my eyes. The sarcasm slid out sharp. I hated that too. It wasn’t how I usually dealt with uncomfortable situations. But he hurt me, and pretending he didn’t wasn’t working anymore.
He kept watching me as I reached for my favorite pretzels.
“Lana.”
I ignored him, but my body trembled. I begged myself to keep it together. I couldn’t get emotional. Not here.
“Lana, look at me.”
“I’m fine, Callan. We’re cool.”
“We clearly aren’t.” He reached for my elbow when I tried to turn away. His grip was firm but not rough, and he forced me to look at him by stepping closer. “Tell me what’s bothering you.”
My eyes burned, and I hated that they did. I stared up at him and swallowed hard to force the tears to stay where they were. Shaking my head, I freed my arm from his grip. “Nothing’s bothering me.”
“Bullshit.”
“I’m not lying.”
He gave a short, humorless laugh. “It’s written all over your face. Tell me what’s bothering you. What did I do wrong?”
“Can we not do this here?” I hissed, glancing down the aisle. Only an older man stood at the far end, but I still didn’t want to argue with Callan in the middle of the grocery store.
“Lana, tell me what the fuck I did wrong so I can fix it.”
I let out a quiet laugh. “The fact that you don’t know doesn’t help.”
His jaw flexed. Anger flashed in his eyes, but it wasn’t aimed at me. He was furious with himself, and for once, that felt deserved.
“Is it because I left that night?”
“Bull’s-eye,” I muttered, crossing my arms.
He sucked in a breath and shook his head, then dragged a hand over his buzzed hair. “I know that was a dick move.”
“Oh, that’s surprising.”
“Lana,” he sighed. He stepped closer. “Let me apologize.”
The words hit me harder than I expected. I stiffened, stunned that he actually said that out loud. I stared at him and waited for him to say more.
“I know I shouldn’t have left like that. I should’ve made sure you were okay.”
“That’s not really what I’m upset about,” I told him.
“Then what is it?”
The words were right there on my tongue, but I didn’t know how to say them out loud without causing a misunderstanding.
I clenched my jaw and held my breath for a moment.
“I’m upset because you took me out to dinner first and brought me to my favorite place in the whole city after.
I’m not saying you had to fall asleep with your arms around me, but a little decency would’ve been nice.
Maybe you could’ve told me that you just wanted to have sex.
I would’ve given it to you without the sushi and stargazing. ”
My words stung me more than I thought they would, and they made me feel and sound cheap and pathetic.
Even if he had told me what his goal had been that night, I probably wouldn’t have said yes because the idea of letting him take me out and lead me on was nicer.
It was stupid and na?ve, and I knew it didn’t make sense.
I told myself I should at least be taken on a date before sleeping with him because I deserved that much, but at the same time, I believed I was worth more than a one-night stand.
His silence was heavy, and I immediately regretted saying it. I looked down at my shoes, wishing I could take it all back, and wishing that for once, I would’ve kept my mouth shut.
“Lana,” he said. He reached out, his fingers gently tilting my chin up until I had to look at him. The anger in his eyes was gone, replaced by what looked like regret. But I couldn’t be sure. I hadn’t always read him correctly, and that was probably what had caused all this.
“I shouldn’t have said anything,” I mumbled, trying to pull my chin away, but his grip was firm.
“No, you should have.” His thumb brushed my jawline.
“You’re right, and I’m sorry for not communicating what my intentions were.
And I know I could say all the cliché shit to try and make you feel better, but that wouldn’t be enough.
I fucked up, took advantage of the situation, and then ran like a coward. ”
I just stared at him, my stupid heart thumping against my ribs as if it had already forgiven him. I searched his face, looking for a sign that he was just saying what I wanted to hear. But all I saw was raw honesty.
“And I agree,” he continued. You deserve decency and respect, and I’m sorry I didn’t give that to you.” He let go of my chin, but he didn’t step away. “I’m sorry.”
I stood there, my mind reeling. We had come down here for food, not for this.
But as I looked into his eyes and let his words sink in, the walls I’d started to lower went right back up, making me feel powerful again.
I wasn’t going to let my heart take over just because he apologized and admitted he could have handled things better.
I’d be foolish to forgive him without knowing he truly meant it and would show it in the future.
I gave a small nod and whispered, “Okay.”
He understood that this was it for now. He smiled tightly and stepped back, then cleared his throat before tipping his chin down the aisle.