Chapter 13
CHLOE
Eleven years ago
“Ugh.” I groan, pressing the heels of my hands into my eyes. “Did I ever tell you how much I hate learning science-type stuff? It is so boring.”
We’re sitting on Callum’s bed, me on my stomach and him resting against his pillows at the other end, three textbooks spread out between us.
Even though we’re studying, it’s our date night, something we don’t get to do often now that his hockey schedule is ramping up like it is.
He’s been working hard this season, and the right people are taking notice.
If he keeps this up, his dreams of playing professional hockey could happen sooner than he expected.
I couldn’t be happier for him, but I also can’t help but worry about what it could mean for our future.
Even though Callum and I have been dating for almost a year now, I’m still not used to it.
We’re two different people on very different paths, but so far, things have been working well between us.
Really well, actually—so damn well it kind of scares me.
Are you supposed to find your person so young like this?
According to my parents, no. To say they weren’t happy when they found out I was dating Callum would be an understatement.
“You’re there to focus on your studies, Chloe. Not boys.”
This was from my mother, who has always hated the idea of me dating while still in school.
“Your education is more important than a college fling. Did you read that article in The New York Times? It says we’re on track to finding a cure for cancer in the next twenty years. A miracle!”
While I’m proud of his research and what he’s doing to advance medicine, I didn’t have the heart to remind my dad of the number of people who will still die from the disease between now and then.
Or that what I have with Callum is far more than just a fling.
I don’t think he would have taken that well.
They want me to focus on school, which makes sense, since they didn’t meet until way after college. They’re why I declared my major in biology. It felt like the natural path, but now that I’m almost a year into my studies, I can firmly say this is not what I want to be doing the rest of my life.
Callum laughs as he rests his hand on my ankle, almost like he can’t not touch me. “You’ve mentioned that a time or two. Remind me again why you’re majoring in biology and not writing? You’re killing it on the paper.”
I am killing it on the paper. I’ve had the most front-page stories out of anyone else on the team, and there’s been some talk of making me editor next year, a position a junior hasn’t held for a long time.
But that doesn’t matter in the long term, so I shrug and flip yet another page I briefly scanned over, not comprehending a single letter of it. “Both of my parents are scientists.”
“So?”
Of course he doesn’t get it. His focus is on hockey.
He says all the time that he doesn’t think he’ll get offered a contract, even though he was drafted by New York, but I think he’s wrong.
Sure, my opinion might be a bit biased, being his girlfriend and all, but I thought Callum was a good player well before we started dating.
It’s going to happen for him. It’s just a matter of when.
Instead of answering his question, I close my heavy textbook and shove it aside, rolling onto my back and propping myself up on my elbows.
“Let’s take a break.”
He raises a brow, a smile playing at the corner of his lips. “We just took a break twenty minutes ago.”
“And now I’ve worked for twenty minutes. That deserves another break, doesn’t it?” I pout, pushing my chest out a little more.
Callum growls lowly, then tosses his business law textbook to the floor before crawling on top of me and burying his face in my neck. I howl with laughter as he alternates between wet kisses and gentle bites.
“Shhh,” he says into my ear. “Do you really want my roommates to barge in here?”
“You did lock the door, didn’t you?”
He pulls away to look down at me, and I miss him instantly. “Yeah, but those knuckleheads will just see that as a challenge.”
I giggle because he’s not wrong. They’ve already had to call maintenance to replace a smashed door once because one of the guys was drunk and thought there was a bear inside. I don’t think they’re looking for a repeat of that incident.
“Guess we’ll just have to make out quietly, then, huh?” I tease, and he launches at me once again.
His lips go from the crook of my neck to the spot at the base of my throat that always makes me ticklish before he drags them up and over my jawline. Then, finally, my lips. I’ve kissed Callum a lot since that day in the hallway, but somehow, every time feels like the first time all over again.
Right now is no different. His lips move over mine as if they’re memorizing my mouth, and I slide my hands through his hair, tugging him closer like I’m unable to get enough.
And honestly, I’m not.
“Fuck, Clover,” he says as he pulls away. “You taste so good, you know that?”
“I taste like Diet Coke.”
He grins against me, nuzzling his nose to mine. “I think you might be turning me into a fan.”
I laugh. “That’s a lie, and we both know it.”
“No, it’s true. It’s growing on me.”
“Hmm. Is it that or do you just really like kissing me?”
“I just really like kissing you, Clover.”
Then he does it again, this time his tongue sweeping into my mouth.
I get lost in him, forgetting about everything else, like the biology test I’m supposed to be studying for and the article I still need to write for the school paper.
I forget it all and allow myself to relish the feel of his body pressed against mine and his tongue doing things that have no business feeling so good.
I slip my hands under his shirt, loving the way his skin prickles beneath my touch, and lightly drag my nails up his back. He groans into me, and I do it again. Then he’s gone, wrenching his mouth away, his forehead pressed against mine.
“You’re killing me,” he says, his breath coming in sharp. “You feel good.”
“Me? You feel good.”
I reach up, needing to kiss him again, but he pulls away.
I frown. “What’s wrong?”
“Need a minute,” he says like he’s barely holding on, which sounds ridiculous since we’re only kissing.
But that’s just how things are between us. Even kissing can feel like so much more. I’m sure it doesn’t help that we’ve not had sex yet.
Yes, we’ve been together for nearly a year, but we’ve been content to take our time.
And, okay, maybe it also has to do with the fact that every time we get close, he pulls away.
There’s always an excuse, and in the moment, they sound like good ones, then later, when I’m lying in bed, frustrated and needing relief, I can’t seem to find an actual reason we don’t go through with it.
Other than me.
“You know,” I say, trying to keep my voice light, “you could give a girl a complex if you keep holding out on her like this.”
Callum opens his eyes, pulling his head back to look at me. “Are you trying to pressure me into sex, Clover?”
“What?” I laugh. “No. I mean, yes. I mean no. No.” I say it more firmly this time, then shake my head. “I guess…I don’t know. I’m just trying to find out why.”
“Why what?”
“Why won’t you…you know, go all the way with me?”
His whiskey-like eyes darken just a shade, but it’s enough to have me swallowing roughly. Still, I push on.
“Is there…something wrong with me? Something wrong with us?”
“Is that what you think?” His voice is barely above a whisper and hoarse, like he’s been screaming at the top of his lungs for hours.
He pushes away from me, and I miss his heat so much I wish I had never said anything at all.
He resumes his spot against the headboard, running his hands through his hair before adjusting his very obvious boner.
I sit up, putting my own back against the wall and picking at a spot on the blanket that could probably use a wash.
“I mean, yes? What else am I supposed to think?”
He doesn’t say anything right away, and I try hard to pretend I’m not dying on the inside over his lack of answer.
“Clover.”
I don’t look up. I can’t. I’m too afraid to.
“Clover,” he says again.
I keep picking at the blanket, blinking away the tears threatening to spill down my cheeks.
“Chloe.”
It’s my undoing. I pull my head up, meeting his stare, and I’m surprised by what I see in it—fury. He’s…mad? At me?
“It’s not you.” He says each word slowly, like he’s begging me to actually hear them. “It’s not you, Chloe.”
A breath rushes out of me, and I had no idea I was even holding it in.
“Then what is it?”
His brows inch inward, then he’s moving before I can even comprehend what’s happening.
Suddenly, I’m moving too, right into his lap, my legs on either side of his as he cups my face with his hand.
He opens his mouth, then snaps it closed again.
I have no idea what’s happening, but I’m too afraid to move as he traces his thumb back and forth like he’s memorizing the freckles that dot the tops of my cheeks. Then finally, he speaks.
“You deserve better than a quick fuck in my room, okay? Especially when I constantly have people going in and out of my apartment. When we have sex for the first time, I want it to be special. Because you’re special to me, Clover. In a big damn way.”
While Callum hasn’t shied away from telling me how he feels about me, we’ve still never uttered those special three words to each other.
This is certainly the closest we’ve gotten.
There is no part of me that doesn’t believe I’m in love with him, but I’m far too afraid to say it out loud and make it real.
What if he doesn’t feel the same? What if I’m lightyears ahead of where he’s at? Yes, he says I’m special to him, but that doesn’t automatically equal love. What if this isn’t the start of forever like I thought?