Chapter 18 Astrid
ASTRID
“Ana was such a fucking bitch at practice,” Gwen says as we load the dishwasher after dinner. Mom asked her to join us when she showed up at our house thirty minutes ago.
“I can guess why.” I fill her in on what happened at school.
“I wish I’d been there to see Callan put her in her place.”
“It was awesome. You should’ve seen the look on her face. Honestly, it’s made my entire year.” I shut the dishwasher door and grab a cloth to wipe down the counter.
“She’s had it coming for a while.” Gwen leans back against the counter. “But I fear she’ll target you now. And I doubt she’ll give up on Callan. She hasn’t exactly hidden her intentions.”
“She can try. Even if we weren’t”—I glance around to ensure no one has come back into the kitchen—“fake dating,” I whisper, “he wouldn’t be interested in her. He can’t stand her.”
“Ana has a real nasty streak. I’ve seen it on more than one occasion at cheerleader practice. I’m going to get close to her. That way I can find out if she’s planning anything.”
“I don’t want you painting a target on your back. I can handle the mean girl.” I move over to the other counter and drag the cloth over the speckled marble.
“It can’t hurt to cozy up to her. Keep your enemies close and all that.”
“I’m not expecting you to do anything,” I say, dumping the cloth in the sink.
“I know you aren’t, but that’s what besties do.”
“You’re the best.”
“So, have you told your parents yet?”
I nod. “Told them just before dinner. Mom was thrilled. Dad less so.”
Gwen giggles. “Not even a little bit surprised to hear that.” She grabs her bag and the takeout box Mom left on the table that contains dinner for Mara. “I’ve got to go. I want to get this home to Gran, and then I have a movie date with my man.” A dreamy smile appears on her face.
We walk out of the kitchen and through the living room. “I’m so happy for you.”
“See, I told you we’d be going on a double date by the end of the month.”
“Hold your horses, you know my situation isn’t the same as yours,” I quietly say.
“I’ve been thinking about it more, and I think you’ve done the right thing.”
“You do?”
She bobs her head as we stop in front of the hall door. “You’re in the perfect position now to make a move and turn it from fake to real.”
“He’s not interested in me like that.”
“I wouldn’t be too sure. He seems touchy-feely with you in a way that screams real.” She clutches my arm, and her eyes glimmer with excitement. “I’ll get Scott to buy tickets for the Asteroid gig in Burly. If you’re not really dating by then, you could make a move on him that night.”
“I’ll ask Callan if he wants to go, but don’t get your hopes up.” Or mine too. I’ve been giving myself little pep talks all day, reminding myself every time Callan takes my hand or drapes his arm around me that he’s just playing a part.
“Think big, babe, and manifest it into being!”
“Who are you, and what have you done with my best friend?”
“I’m just so happy right now.” She picks up my hand, examining my nails. “That’s a pretty color.”
“I got it at the store when I was picking up some accessories for Roni after school.” Callan had dropped me home before going to the gym, and I’d headed straight back out.
“Could I borrow it?”
My brows climb to my hairline before my head dips, zoning in on the chipped black polish adorning her nails. “It’s bubblegum pink.”
“I’m not colorblind.” Gwen rolls her eyes.
“I thought you were allergic to color.” Gwen favors black above every color, and I’ve only ever known her to wear black or navy on her nails.
“You wound me.” She slaps a hand over her chest before her teasing expression vanishes. “I actually really like Scott, and I don’t know, I just feel like being more…girly.”
“Stay here.” I race up the stairs, grabbing the nail polish and one of my favorite dresses from my closet.
Then I run back down, handing them to Gwen at the door.
“Keep the polish. Call it a new relationship gift, and please say you’ll wear this dress tonight.
It’ll go great with the polish, and it’ll look fab on you. ”
She holds up the pretty minidress with cap sleeves and a flowy skirt.
It’s white with a pink, purple, and blue pattern, and the style is flexible to fit her shorter, curvier figure.
It’s not something Gwen would usually wear, but it’ll look great on her, and I want her to embrace her girliness to the max.
“I can’t take this. It’s one of your faves.”
I have to smother a laugh. Gwen has no issue borrowing my things, but it’s usually one of my little black dresses.
“Don’t be ridic. Take the dress and have fun with Scott.”
“You’re the sweetest.” She squeezes me before shoving the dress and polish into her bag. “See you at school tomorrow.”
I wave her off and then dash back inside, spending thirty minutes finishing my homework before I grab the shopping bags and head across the road to the Hunts’.
“Are those what I think they are?” Roni eyeballs the bags like they’re expensive designer gowns and not just a few candles and ornaments from a local store.
“I dropped by the store after school and picked up those items we discussed.” I follow her into the dining room, and we unpack the bags onto the table. Roni gushes over everything, and we discuss where each item will go as I show her the almost complete drawings and plans on my tablet.
“Let me make tea,” she says. “I have apple pie and—”
“Hand my girlfriend over,” Callan says, and his deep, gruff tone has shivers racing across my skin. His tall, broad frame fills the doorway, and I have no idea how long he’s been standing there. “You’ve hogged her enough for one night.”
Roni positively glows, and I feel my cheeks heating. “I didn’t want to embarrass you.” She clasps my hands and beams at me. “But Tony and I are so happy you and Callan are together. I knew I wasn’t imagining the sparks flying between you!”
“Ma. Jesus.” Callan strides into the room and pulls me up out of my seat. “We’re going now before you say anything else to embarrass yourself and us.”
“Keep the door open, Callan!” she calls out as we walk up the stairs.
“Fucking hell. Does she need to bleedin’ remind us every time we go upstairs?” Callan clips out from behind me.
“At least she’s letting us upstairs. At my house, Dad will be chaperoning us in the living room.” I’m not even joking. Dad has always been super strict with my exes when we were dating, and I don’t see Callan being any different.
“I predict more tree climbing in my future,” he whispers, leaning over me from behind. His warm breath on the side of my face sends delicious chills tiptoeing up and down my spine.
Callan darts around me, opening his bedroom door and stepping aside to let me enter first. My side brushes against the front of his body, and I tingle in every place we touch.
A bunch of books is stacked on one of his bedside tables, and on the other is a mug and a plate with a slice of cake.
I jerk my chin up, meeting his amber eyes. “Is that maple cake from the resort?”
Callan almost chokes on a laugh. “You can tell just by looking at it?”
“Well, duh.” I playfully elbow him as he closes the door. “What kind of cake lover would I be if I couldn’t, and you’re supposed to be leaving that open.”
He flashes me a dazzling smile, and I fall into a trance. Callan is a very good-looking guy, but when he smiles like that, he’s the most beautiful boy in the world.
“Oops. I forgot,” he jests, throwing himself onto the bed. “Sit. Drink your tea and eat your cake.”
I blink a few times before walking to his bed and sitting on the edge. “Why are you buying me cake?”
He pulls himself up against the headboard. “You said the maple cake is the best at the resort.” He props a few pillows against the other side of the headboard. “I was buying cake for Ma and Erin, and I thought I’d buy a slice for you too.” He shrugs. “It’s no biggie. Friends buy friends cake.”
“Sure.”
“Kick off your shoes and sit up,” he commands, patting the fluffy pillows.
I do as I’m told, sitting with my back to the headboard and my legs resting on his bed.
Callan mirrors my position on the other side, sipping some kind of herbal tea, while I dive into my cake.
A moan slips from my lips as the first bite enters my mouth, and my tongue explodes with sweet, spicy, tangy yumminess.
I close my eyes and savor the texture and taste as I place another forkful in my mouth.
When I reopen my eyes, Callan is staring at my mouth like a starving man. His pupils are dilated, and his tongue darts out, licking his lips.
“Who needs sex when there is maple cake?” I blurt before engaging my brain. My cheeks instantly inflame. Oh my gawd. I can’t believe I just said that!
Deep laughter rumbles from Callan’s chest as he cracks up. “You might feel differently about that in the future.”
“I more than likely will,” I concede. “But I’m not the only virgin in the room.
” I scoop up another piece of cake. “If I’m not mistaken, our star soccer player is a maple cake virgin.
” Callan grins. “Shocking, Mr. Hunt.” I hold out the fork.
“I know it’s got tons of sugar, but you can’t live in Vermont and not know what maple cake tastes like.
” I leave the fork dangling between us because I won’t force him. It’s his call.
“I guess a small bite won’t hurt,” he says, leaning toward me.
I lift the fork toward his mouth, and he parts his lips, keeping his eyes trained on mine as I slide the cake inside.
I’ve had many thoughts about maple cake in my seventeen years on this planet, but envy is a first. As Callan’s lips seal around the fork, I desperately wish it were my mouth instead.
Electricity charges the air surrounding us as he slowly chews, maintaining eye contact the entire time.
I set the fork back on my plate in a daze.
I’m overheating under my sweater and sure my face is as red as a tomato.
We continue staring at one another even after he has swallowed, and when he moves in closer, his eyes lowering to my mouth, a symphony bursts from my chest as my heart beats in tune to the imaginary orchestra.
It’s possible I’m hyperventilating as his face inches nearer, and just as I’m about to close my eyes and surrender to his kiss, his fingers rub the corner of my mouth.
“You had a little cream cheese icing there.”
His words snap me out of fantasyland, and I jerk back, averting my gaze and hoping he doesn’t see the disappointment in my eyes or the heat crawling over my cheeks.
“Um, thanks,” I croak out, grabbing the plate and stuffing more cake in my mouth.
“So, what’s the verdict?” I ask when I’ve demolished the cake, pleased I sound composed after my moment of insanity.
“On what?”
My head whips up, catching him watching my lips again.
My fingers touch my mouth. “Do I have more frosting on them?”
His Adam’s apple bobs in his throat. “No. You’re good.”
“Okay.” Weird. “So?”
“So?” Confusion paints his gorgeous face.
“The cake? Did you like it?”
“Oh, um, yeah. It was decent.”
“Decent?”
“Yeah.” He rubs a hand around the back of his neck. “I can see why you like it, but it was too sweet for me.”
“I’m glad I’ve eaten all the cake, so it didn’t hear your insult.”
His lips twitch as he flips onto his side, propping himself up by his elbow. “I didn’t realize maple cake was sentient.”
“All cake is, so you need to be careful what you say around it.”
He pokes me in the stomach. “You’re such a weirdo.”
“Hey, I’m not the one who sleeps with a soccer ball!”
Surprise splays across his face. “How the fuck do you know about that?”
My eyes pop wide. “I was only joking, but you really do that?”
“Not anymore.”
“This I’ve got to hear.”
He sits up, in a cross-legged position, facing me.
“I was ten when I got this special edition FIFA World Cup football for Christmas. It was the first year I knew that Santa wasn’t real, and while I’d asked for the ball, I wasn’t expecting to receive it because it was over a hundred euro and I didn’t think my parents would pay that much for it. ”
“But they did.”
“Yeah. It was the best Christmas ever, and I slept with it tucked into my chest every night for a month.” His eyes light up, and then he’s scrambling off the bed and rummaging through the boxes still stacked against one wall.
“Here it is,” he says, turning around with a ball in his hands.
It’s pristine. White with swirls of blue, red, and green on it.
“Did you even play with it?”
He sits back on the bed, holding it out for me to inspect.
“A few times.” He places it reverently into my hands.
“But winter in Ireland can be brutal, and I’d come home with it covered in mud and grass.
I washed and dried it carefully, but I was afraid it was going to get ruined, so Da built a shelf, and it was on display there until we moved here. ”
“How many more of those boxes hold balls?” I inquire, running the tip of my finger lightly against the patterns on the ball as an idea forms in my mind.
“Not that many. I have four special edition balls I will be keeping until I die.”
I toss the ball at him, and his hands automatically clutch it to his chest. “What’s that for?”
I grin. “Don’t ever call me a weirdo again.”