Chapter 9 #2
I don’t let myself say another word or think another thought as I carry Callum’s stuff up to the apartment.
He follows right behind me the whole way, and I’m itching to get out of the frigid hallway.
For how premium this building is, or claims to be, they sure don’t turn the heating on in the common areas.
“You moved the bookshelf.”
That’s the first thing he says after we step inside.
I shrug, trying to play it cool. “Yeah, it’s better for privacy and whatnot. Here, I’ll show you around your new digs.”
We slip past the bookshelf into the living room, and Callum puts his bag down before sitting on the corner of the pullout couch, taking up so little space that I’m not entirely sure how he’s balancing his body.
He’s going to sleep here, so I sure hope he gets used to occupying more space.
Wait, what if he doesn’t get used to it? What if he sleeps on the floor to keep my couch free?
What if he tries to sleep outside?
I should have chained the balcony door shut, just in case.
“You set all this up for me?” he asks, fixating on the pillow at the end of the couch.
“Yeah. You got dealt a bad hand with your dorm getting destroyed, but you’re my buddy. Of course I’m going to help out.”
Callum purses his lips together and makes a slow slide backward, finally occupying a little more than a solitary square inch of seating space.
I don’t think I’ve ever met someone quite as hesitant as this guy. It’s almost like—
It’s almost like he isn’t used to someone caring about him.
No, it can’t be. Not Callum. Sure, he’s way too polite, like, all the time, but there has to be another reason why me giving him a pillow rendered him speechless—someone has to have cared about him before.
“You didn't have to—” He snaps me back to reality, and I scoff.
“Shut up, man,” I say with a smirk, giving his shoulders a friendly shove that sends him falling backward onto his new bed. “You’re gonna take up space here, or else. Got it?”
Callum nods, and I beam back at him.
“Good boy.” I pat him on the head, and he blushes, forcing back a strained snort.
Sheesh, I'm odd. Why did I have to do that? Callum isn’t Nick.
“I'm, uh—do you want a house tour?” I ask, changing the subject.
He says yes and scrambles up, so I show him the laundry closet, the bathroom where he puts a single bottle of three-in-one, and then I end the tour in the kitchen.
“You have a really nice place,” he says.
“Yeah, I try to keep it cozy and stuff.” I just smile—I’m very aware that he’s completely independent, and I don’t want to be an ass and humble-brag about how my parents got this apartment as an investment property.
“So, uh, I should have asked earlier, but what’s rent gonna be?” He fidgets as he says that, sliding his strong fingers between one another, and it takes me a while to wrap my head around what he means.
Seriously, this guy’s dorm got evacuated and—
“You think I’m gonna charge rent for my couch?” I ask.
“I mean, it is your house,” Callum replies.
“Doesn’t matter,” I say. “Like, if you need to make yourself useful or whatever, you can make me coffee if you wake up before I do.”
There’s a mix of confusion and surprise swirling behind his eyes, and I’m readying up another round of rebuttals before he purses his lips and nods. “Thank you so much. I can do that.”
Thank fuck. I’ve never met anyone who’s so reluctant to accept something that’s being offered.
“Sounds like a deal. The machine is over there, and it’s pretty easy to use,” I say, pointing. “But if I wake up before you, how do you take yours?”
“Just black.”
“Ooh, tough manly man over here,” I tease, lowering my voice.
Callum doesn’t laugh. “Yeah, my parents said that’s a guy thing, so that's what I had to do.”
The words “that's some fucking bullshit” jump to the tip of my tongue, and I purse my lips to hold them back. For all I know, he could like his parents despite the fact that they think some weird things.
It’s best not to prod. He might even agree with them.
“Anyway, I won’t keep you up any longer,” I say. “You’ve had a long-ass day.”
Callum lets out a tired breath. “Yeah. I’m gonna shower and sleep, if that’s okay.” He yawns, managing to appear even sleepier than before. “Oh man, I’m looking forward to having a blanket.”
Fuck, this man needs a hug. I’m not gonna force it on him, but I’ll extend an offer. Without saying a word, I open my arms, and he moves into them, stiff and a little shaky. He’s exuding reluctance, so I don’t close around him—there’s no way I’m gonna force anything.
Luckily, Callum decides for me. Still stiff as a board, he wraps his arms around my body, and the tension in his muscles is impossible to ignore. I return the hug, keeping my arms a respectable distance above his waist, even though he’s a head taller than me.
“Not a hugger, huh?” I ask, preparing to loosen my grip.
“Nah, not really.” Instead of pulling away like I expect, he pulls me closer.
Oh. Oh, this is comfortable.
That stiffness he had? Gone, like it was never there. And my god, for someone who acted like he’s never hugged anyone before…
I mentally retract my initial assessment of Callum not being a hugger. He gives amazing hugs, even if this is lasting a little longer than I’d expected.
I don’t complain.
“Damn, you needed this, didn’t you?” I say.
“You’re a great friend, Ian,” he replies, not directly answering me. “Thank you so much. Again. I owe you big time.” He pulls away, and it might be my annoying brain playing tricks on me, but there's reluctance in his movements.
“Anytime,” I reply. “And no, you don’t. You don’t owe me anything.”