Chapter 7
CHAPTER SEVEN
IAN
Deadlines suck ass, which is why their absence gives me a serious case of the fuzzies. The extra drink I had with Callum put me in a great mood last night, while not being nearly enough to make me hungover.
The fact that I finally, finally got to hang out with him still puts a silly grin on my face. Last night was so chill, and hell, I fucking loved it.
Callum is way too hot for my own good, but the fact that he's almost certainly straight is more than enough to stop any kind of crush from snowballing. If anything, maybe last night was what I needed to get over him in that way. He’s a great guy, if a little quiet, and he sure isn’t used to accepting anything from other people.
But we’re friends, so he needs to get used to me offering random stuff. My giving streak isn’t going to change.
Which is why I haul myself out of bed, take another shower, and start making pancakes for hangover brunch with Sabrina and Laura.
Can I call it hangover brunch if I’m not hungover?
Eh, it doesn’t matter. They're probably hungover.
My suspicions are confirmed when they rock up fifteen minutes later with electrolyte drinks, tired expressions, and mimosa ingredients that none of us are gonna touch.
“Oh, he’s alive!” Sabrina says, wrapping me in a hug.
“Are you?” I ask. “It looks like you guys had a fun night.”
“Nick and one of your teammates got on the stripper pole at Turbo and earned us two racks of shots,” Laura says. “So yeah, it was pretty fun.”
I choke back a chuckle. “Oh my god, you’re kidding.”
Sabrina shakes her head before wincing, and I toss her a bottle of ibuprofen for the headache I think she has. “Nope. Nick gave Steve a super sensual lap dance before getting one back.” She pauses to take a pill out of the bottle and swallow it while I scoff at the visual.
Steve is simultaneously the official team grump and the official team hype man. Which one he is depends on his alcohol intake and whether or not he’s trying to get laid.
“Our Nicky-boy got a ton of attention, but he ended up leaving alone with us at two,” Laura adds.
“Glad you all got home safe.” I ease a few pancakes out of the pan and pour a new batch. Nick going home alone isn’t much of a surprise. He says he’s super picky, and it isn’t my place to speculate beyond that. “On a different note, do either of you want pancakes?”
Sabrina and Laura say yes simultaneously, and I serve up a short stack for each of them.
“Damn,” Sabrina says after a bite, “how did you get wild blueberries? It’s January.”
“They’re frozen—”
A quiet series of knocks cuts me off, and the three of us exchange confused glances.
“Someone flip the pancakes if they start to burn,” I say absentmindedly, heading for the front door.
It’s Callum. His hair’s a mess, and it’s clear from the thin layer of stubble on his face that he hasn’t shaved since yesterday.
In other words, he’s fucking divine.
A cold blast of air from the hallway focuses me, and I step aside, shivering. “Wanna come in, man? It’s freezing.”
He shakes his head. “I’m good, thanks. Just, uh… I’m here to return your jacket.”
Huh?
I don’t have time to think of a reply before Callum starts taking it off, and I clasp a hand around his solid forearm to stop him. “Dude, don’t. I gave that to you.”
He blinks. “You lent it to me.”
“Well, I'm giving it to you now. I want you to have it.”
“Why?”
Sheesh, he’s stubborn. “I’m too lazy to print out a return label, so you’re actually helping me out by taking it off my hands.”
Everyone has a signature skeptical look, and I’m getting well acquainted with Callum’s.
But damn, if seeing him smolder in disbelief means that I have to keep lying to his handsome face, I might as well accept my new job as the second coming of Pinocchio. Purely for aesthetic reasons, of course.
“It doesn’t matter,” I insist, stepping backward and motioning for Callum to follow me in. “Keep it. The color brings out your pretty eyes.”
Did I actually say that?
The surprised pair of eyes I’m staring into are so outrageously pretty. Deep, brilliant blue with flecks of gold, framed by the thickest eyelashes I’ve ever seen. A ton of women would kill to have those eyelashes.
Hell, I’d kill to have them.
I should think about getting one of those expensive serums I always see ads for. Or mascara. I'm sure I could make it appear natural.
Callum’s dark, straight brows furrow in the center, giving him an almost ethereal ruggedness. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
I might as well roll with this. “It means you’ve got nice eyes. That’s it.” I weigh my next words, deciding to test the waters a little. “Girls are so gonna get lost in them, that’s for sure.”
He gives me a terse nod in return before slipping into the jacket.
Oh well.
“Anyway,” he says. “I’ll head back now. Thanks for the coat. Again.” He turns around, and something in my brain compels me to grab his shoulder.
“Do you want to stay for hangover brunch?” I ask. “Sabrina and Laura are here, and I made pancakes.”
“They're so good!” Sabrina yells from the dining room.
“Yeah, that’s Sabrina and Laura.” I point both of them out. “Come and—”
“Oh, I didn’t know you had people over,” Callum says. “I didn’t mean to interrupt.”
He flees like he’s absconding from a murder scene before I can stop him.
“I didn’t even get to dap him goodbye,” I say, sullen, as I return to the table.
“That’s your takeaway?” Sabrina snickers. “You’re really bro-ing it up with him, aren’t you?”
“Oh, yeah,” I reply. “As I said, we’re friends, and he pretty much confirmed he’s straight.”
That little nod after I said girls would get lost in his eyes? Devastating.
“Yeah, that’s a shame for you,” Laura says. “He seems sweet.”
“He is,” I reply. “Kinda quiet, but I dig the vibe.”
Sabrina raises her eyebrows. “Yeah. Maybe he’ll be good for you. Balance your energy out a little.”
I scoff. “Oh, excuse me. Are you saying I’m not sweet?” I bat my eyelashes at Sabrina, and she flips me off.
“You know what I mean, you shit.” Sabrina rolls her eyes as I return the middle finger she gave me, but we settle down. “He’s quiet and you aren’t, so that’s a good match.”
“You sure?” I ask. “He keeps declining things, so I should tone myself down a little.”
“Don’t tone yourself down,” Laura says quickly. “Be tactful, sure, but don’t be fake.”
Sabrina jumps in. “Yeah, don’t change yourself for a man, Ian. We’ve been over this. The jacket was generous, but not weird.”
I breathe out a sigh of relief. “Good. The last thing I want is to creep my friends out, too.”
Sabrina brandishes her fork at me. “Ian, stop. You’re letting emotionally stunted hookups get to your head again.”
“Right,” I mutter. “I won’t dwell on it—”
My phone buzzes with a text.
Callum Cross
Thanks again for the coat
No problem man
Callum’s typing indicator pops up, and my fingers itch as I fight the urge to invite him to hang out later, maybe for dinner. The way he attacked the chicken parm last night makes me think that his dining hall is ass. It probably is.
Jesus Christ, Ian. Leave the poor guy alone.
Do you want to study for movement class tomorrow?
I break into a grin.
Yes ofc anytime
Sabrina snatches the phone out of my hands and locks it. “Hey, it’s hangover brunch. Not ‘crushing on straight guys’ brunch.”
“I’m not crushing on him, oh my god.”
“You’re smiling,” Laura shoots back.
“I’m smiling because I’m excited about being friends with Callum, which will help me to stop having a tiny, unrealistic crush on the concept of him,” I assure them. “Give me a week, tops. That’s all I’ll need.”