Chapter 24 Callum #2
I tighten my grip around him “Same. Gonna miss you lots.”
Ian’s phone beeps, he checks it, and then he’s off with a final wave. With the quiet click of the front door closing, I’m left with nothing more than my darkening thoughts.
Damn it, now that I’m completely alone, the weight of what happened sinks in even more.
I essentially told Ian that he was doing too much and then pushed him away because of it. Not just in a figurative sense—I pushed him off me, too.
Without even thinking, I stuck a knife into one of his biggest insecurities and twisted over and over again.
Is it too late to run after Ian and tell him I’m an idiot?
Yeah, it is.
Sinking down further into the couch, I bury my face in my hands and let out a loud, gritty groan. I could have been next to my kind, caring boyfriend right now, comfortable and safe with everything he offered me, but I decided to be an asshole, and now I’m alone in his apartment.
I’m not even in a better position than I was ten minutes ago. My parents still found me.
And I’m alone.
A chill runs through my body, fear compounding the guilt that’s still growing.
Fuck, I learned techniques for this. Grabbing a pillow, I scan the room.
Right, what can I see? Coffee table, carpet, TV, uh, my reflection in the TV? Nope. Lamp. That’s better. Alright, one more: textbook.
I’m touching the pillow, my hands, the couch under my ass, and uh, my socks. Those are feelings.
I can hear a clock, my pulse in my ears, and cars outside.
Ian’s smell is in the pillow and the room spray is wafting through the air.
My dehydrated mouth is something I can taste—dry and metallic. Not the most pleasant, but it’s identifiable.
Okay. I take a breath, hold it, and let it out.
I’m…a little better. Calmer, even. I squeeze the pillow tighter in my arms and curl into it, listening to my heartbeat slow down.
I’ll be fine. I’m alone, and Ian’s gone for a week, but nobody’s coming for me.
Besides, what would I have done if I’d gone with Ian? He’ll have his games, and I’d be skipping a week of classes and exams.
And if my parents actually wanted to track me down, they’d have a list of ten WMUs to search through. I doubt they even care that much.
To be honest, I’m probably dead to them now. That thought gives me some kind of sickening, relieving peace.
Still, I could use a hug, and Ian isn’t here to give me any. Even if he was, I threw his affection back in his face, so he’d probably be hesitant to touch me at risk of making me mad.
I get a text notification, and my heart jolts, my hands shaking again as I pick up my phone to read it. Did my parents manage to find my number, too?
Ian Scott
Fuck, I already miss you
Gonna be thinking about you lots
God, I miss him too.
This is gonna be a long week.
“Why do baseball players have so many away games?” I ask, picking at a blade of grass.
Laura shrugs, glancing up from her laptop. “Dude, it’s his first extended road trip. You’ll get used to it.” She remains silent for a few seconds, sizing me up before smiling. “Oh, you miss him, miss him. Got it.”
I groan. “I do.”
“You aren’t gonna deny it?”
“Why should I?”
“Good answer. Still, he’ll be back in two days. Be patient.”
“I’ve been patient,” I mutter. A leaf blows onto my laptop screen, and I flick it away. “Sheesh, and I was a dick to him before he left, too.”
I did tell Laura and Sabrina about the spat Ian and I had, and they said I was overthinking the whole situation, even if I was a bit of an idiot.
“Everyone’s a dick sometimes,” Laura reassures me. “Besides, if staying was what you wanted, Ian’s the kind of person to respect that.”
“I thought I wanted to be independent or whatever, but I got all lonely the second he left and then I regretted everything.”
A text pops up, and I snatch my phone to read it.
Ian Scott
Hey! Whatcha up to?
I smile as my chest goes fuzzy. I tried sending an apology text to Ian, but he predicted it as soon as I sent the first message, and preemptively forbade me from apologizing over “nothing.” Still, I don’t think I’ve fully shaken my residual guilt, not yet.
Nothing much, studying with Laura rn
How are your games going?
I don’t need to ask—I’ve been following his games online, and they haven’t been going well at all.
Ian’s typing indicator appears and stays for an excruciating few minutes.
They’re going okay ig, we’re doing what we can but the team has a ton of injuries
Doesn’t help that a bunch of our strong players got drafted last summer and dipped
Lowkey stressed about making regionals
Make that highkey lmao
“How’s Ian?” Laura asks, and I tuck my phone away.
“Stressed.”
She winces. “Yeah, I took a peek at the stats for the men’s team. Yikes. How stressed is he?”
I check my phone again.
Like I’m not trying to go pro but man it’d suck if we got knocked out
Maybe TMI but I wanna puke
I grimace. “Very.”
“Oh, shit. I’m sorry to hear that.”
“Yeah, I wanna cheer him up,” I say. “But that’s kind of hard to do from all the way over here.”
Laura nods.
“I could visit him?” I speculate out loud.
What?
Hello, intrusive thoughts.
Laura doesn’t seem to think so—she’s smiling. “Now that’s a good idea. You should do it.”
“Wouldn't that be clingy?”
“Clingy?” Laura scoffs. “Are you kidding me? Have you met Ian? If the roles were flipped and you were nervous, he would, I don't know, come home and feed you a seven-course meal he cooked himself.”
I snicker. That does sound like something he would do. “You’re right.”
Today is Friday. There’s a game against Boston University College tomorrow, and then the team is coming back on Sunday.
I don’t have another exam until Wednesday.
My bank account is padded from my library job and the rent I’m not paying.
I can swing it.
“You know what, I think I’ll go to him,” I say.
“Ooh, make it a surprise,” Laura suggests. “He’s gonna love that. See if you can coordinate with Nick.”
Grinning, I grab my phone to do just that.
Grinning, I grab my phone to do just that.
Hey Nick, hope the road trip is going well. I was thinking of visiting Ian before the game against Boston tomorrow
Was hoping I could plan a surprise and get your help
Nick Russell
yo
that’s a great idea
Ian’s a lil stressed ngl so it’d actually be helpful if you visited
Yeah he was telling me
I’ll gets deets from coach but I’ll keep this a secret, hang tight
He texts back a few minutes later.
our coach gave you the all-clear
we’re staying at the university heights hotel near BUC and greenwall park
you have to use the code BUCPREF5 when booking or else you’re gonna get fleeced
Awesome, I’ll book something
alright, we’re about to get ready for our game but keep me posted
“I’m doing it,” I confirm to Laura, and then I fix my attention on my laptop to book a room. My initial whiplash from seeing the price dissolves as soon as I enter the discount code, and after paying, I check the bus schedule from campus to Boston, snagging a departure that’s in two hours.
“Are you ready?” Laura asks.
“I have a hotel and a bus, and I have to pack,” I blurt out, stuffing my books into my backpack. “Sorry to leave so abruptly, but—”
Laura waves me off. “Don’t worry about it. Go to your man.”
I’m on it.
At home, I empty my backpack and run into the bedroom, packing two random changes of clothes. At the bed, I unplug my charger and pack that, too, and my focus creeps back to the nightstand.
One of the drawers is ajar.
It’s Ian’s sex drawer.
He says it’s our sex drawer now, but I haven’t gone digging around in it or anything. Ian tried to show me a few weeks ago, but that was before we went to the cabin, when I was squeamish about anything more than a simple blowjob. He stopped as soon as I tensed up, which wasn’t my proudest moment.
Still, I pause after opening the drawer, wondering if I need to bring lube on a two-day trip and whether now is a good time to rummage through what lies behind the bottle.
Screw it. I get on my knees to take a look.
Rifling through everything, I don’t know what I was so intimidated by—there’s a box of condoms, more lube, and a couple of other things that he says he wants to use with me.
Oh, and a bag full of sturdy fabric straps. Knowing what I do now, it’s clear what they’re for, and I get boned-up as I grab it, gears turning in my head.
We’ll have our own room in Boston. Win or lose, he’s going to want to burn off some energy. He always does after a game.
Alright, it’s settled. I’m taking the restraints with me. The game tomorrow is scheduled to end early in the afternoon, and we’ll have hours before he has to go to any kind of dinner thing, if there’s even one planned.
Smiling to myself, I stuff the bag into the bottom of my backpack.
It’s wild how far I’ve come in barely over three months.
I’m still quieter, that’s for sure, but I went from being a clammed-up, repression-laden shell of a person to someone with a boyfriend and everything that we’ve decided will go with that label.
While there’s still more growing and learning and hard stuff left ahead for me, it’s a process. I’m stepping up, and I’m going to keep at it.
Mentally cursing myself for not booking an earlier departure, I pace around the apartment, nervous anticipation building with every little step I take, and when I’ve had enough, I run out the door and get to the bus station half an hour before I’m supposed to.
At least the bus is already there, so I board and settle into my seat at the back.
It’s only then I realize it’s the same seat as all the ones I booked for the trip when I first moved here. That’s where the similarities end—this time, I’m traveling for fun.