Chapter 15
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
BETH
Nine years ago
Two weeks. Callan and I had been … well …
we weren’t officially dating because he hadn’t asked me out on a date yet.
But we’d been stealing secret kisses at school and flirting constantly in class.
I’d spoken to Amanda, and she told me if I really liked him that much, she could let it go.
Things had been a bit awkward and strained between us, but I hoped we’d figure it out.
As for Callan … he had yet to ask me out.
And I was growing a wee bit desperate for Callan to ask me out.
In fact, I was pretty much consumed by the boy. For the first time, I wasn’t obsessed with being perfect at school and succeeding in every class and every after-school activity. I was too busy daydreaming about Callan Keen, and honestly, it was an awesome reprieve.
I’d never been unhappy. But it was the first time I’d ever experienced the giddy high of crushing this hard on someone. Crush didn’t seem like a big enough word.
I think I was falling for Callan.
Which was why I was worried he hadn’t asked me out on a date yet, because I didn’t want to lose him before we’d even really gotten started.
It was hard to believe, but I think I’d found my person.
What my mum and dad had! Mum was twenty-two when she found Dad.
I thought I’d be lucky to find what they had at the same age. But I wasn’t even sixteen yet!
Sadly, I couldn’t talk to Amanda about it because of the aforementioned weirdness, and I didn’t want to tell Mum and Dad yet because Callan wasn’t technically my boyfriend. Though I was sure if he made a move, he would be soon.
I was so sure that Callan and I were meant to be that I’d stopped talking to Rachel Lang when she made a snooty comment about his family’s lack of money and how my parents probably wouldn’t approve.
She knew nothing about my parents.
Yes, they both came from privileged backgrounds, but not all of our family did, and Mum and Dad were the least pretentious people ever. They wouldn’t give a rat’s arse about Callan’s lack of money. They’d applaud his drive to succeed at such a young age.
Mum knew something was up. Aunt Ellie had joked at the weekend that I was acting like a girl in love and now Mum wouldn’t stop pestering me about it.
As Callan walked into history class, my belly erupted into a riot of butterflies. I wondered if that would ever stop. It had been nearly three months since we met, two weeks since we’d started kissing, and those butterflies weren’t going anywhere.
He gave me a boyish smile, his eyes lighting up. As he took the seat next to me, he dropped his bag under the table. Then as he bent to pull his iPad out with one hand, he used the other to trail his fingertips up my calf.
I jumped a little in surprise and shot him a look.
Callan grinned unrepentantly as he straightened.
While Mr. Fisher spoke, I felt a touch against the back of my hand and glanced down to see Callan had rested his hand right next to mine and was subtly brushing his fingers against my skin. I suppressed a shiver and bit my lip to contain my smile.
It took all my concentration to focus on Mr. Fisher.
When he finally stopped talking so we could work on our dissertations, I turned to find Callan staring at me.
He was so unfairly hot.
“Are you deliberately trying to distract me?”
He shrugged. “Maybe.”
“No talking,” Mr. Fisher called from the front of the room.
Damn it.
After class, Callan threaded his fingers through mine, and I followed him instead of heading toward the cafeteria for my prefect duties.
I’d, of course, signed up to be a prefect this year, which meant my breaks were taken over by standing guard in corridors so the younger students didn’t get rowdy on their way through the school.
I’d never shirked my responsibilities before. But Callan was worth it, and despite our current strangeness, Amanda would cover for me.
He pulled me into an empty art room and into the photo developing lab. Plunged into darkness as Callan pressed me against the door, I could feel, smell, and hear nothing but him. Then his mouth was on mine. Gentle and exploring. I sighed, tingles of heat shooting through me as he kissed my neck.
He raised his head only to whisper in my ear, “I can’t stop thinking about you.”
I wanted to question why he wouldn’t ask me out already when he seemed just as obsessed with me as I was with him.
But then he was kissing me again and I was lost.
When the bell rang for our next class, I was pretty sure I left the dark room with lips swollen enough to give me away. I didn’t care.
Callan clasped my hand in his as we walked out into the corridor to join the other kids heading toward class. “I talked my dad into coming tonight.”
I squeezed his hand at this revelation. Parents’ evening was that night, and Callan needed his father to show up for it because of his scholarship. I’d convinced him to annoy the hell out of his waste-of-space dad until he agreed.
“I had to bribe him.”
Anger flushed through me. “With what?”
“When … when my stepdad died, he left me stuff. Including an expensive watch.”
That anger ignited to rage. “No.” I stopped in the middle of the corridor, uncaring of the kids who had to maneuver around us.
Callan wouldn’t meet my eyes. “My dad—my real dad, not the sperm donor—he’d understand.”
“Callan—”
“It’s done.” He tried to release my hand, but I held on.
“It’s done.” I leaned into him, forcing him to look at me. “And before you know it, you’ll be playing for Caledonia United and you’ll never have to deal with him again.”
Callan’s expression softened. “You really believe that?”
I smiled. “I may not know a lot about football, Callan Keen, but I know you’re special.”
He swallowed hard, his gaze darting between mine. “Beth, would—”
“Oi, oi! Move out the way!” Ryan Preston shoulder-checked Callan, knocking him into me.
Callan steadied me, anger clouding his features. “Watch it!”
Ryan smirked. “Sorry, Beth.” Then he stuck his middle finger up at Callan and kept walking.
“Beth!” Lucy, a friend, suddenly appeared at my side. “You’re going to be late for class.” She tugged on my arm, pulling me away from Callan before he could finish his sentence.
I offered a small wave that he returned before Lucy pulled me around the corner and out of sight, leaving me to wonder if Ryan and Lucy had interrupted Callan finally asking me out.
I never got a chance to talk to Callan again that day. He had football practice and I had drama club before heading home for a quick change for parents’ evening.
Before we left for parents’ evening, however, I’d texted Amanda to ask if she’d be there. Twenty minutes after I’d sent the text, she replied. My stomach dropped as I read the text.
No. Bt we need 2 talk. I rlly feel like u put Callan b4 our friendship. I’m so hurt. U dnt seem 2 care.
Panic tightened my chest as my thumbs hovered over the screen. Amanda and I had been best friends for as long as I could remember. She was hilarious and kind and loyal. In fact, we’d been friends for so long and I loved her so much, I considered her my family.
And I realized Amanda would never have dated a boy we both liked.
Hell.
I couldn’t lose my friend, but the thought of losing Callan hurt too.
I hurried to text back.
A, I love u & wld never intentionally hurt u. Can I call u when we all get back frm parents’ evening?
A few seconds later she replied:
Ok.
Damn. I hated that I hurt her. It hurt that I hurt her.
I was preoccupied as my parents drove us to the school.
There was only a time or two when Dad had been out of town on a work meeting and couldn’t make parents’ evening.
Otherwise, they both always tried to be there.
Aunt Ellie and Uncle Adam had brought my cousins Will and Bray over to ours so they could keep an eye on Luke and Elle.
If I wasn’t so proud of my parents, I might not be able to handle the embarrassment of watching male and female teachers either act like awkward school children around my dad, or have the entire English department fawn over Mum.
The fangirling hadn’t been so bad before.
But one of Mum’s book series got adapted into a TV show on a major streaming service, and she’d been plastered all over national news these past six months.
Her book sales had soared internationally, and my mum had gone from a successful novelist to a household name.
Usually I could handle it, but I was in a foul mood because of what was happening between me and Amanda.
“We’re hiring actors to play you at the next parents’ evening,” I snarked as they walked out of the English class to greet me. “If not for my sake, then for my teachers’ sakes so they can all stop acting like fools around you.”
“Insult your teachers at parents’ evening, Beth.” Mum nudged me playfully. “That’ll get you far.”
“So, what did Mrs. Carr say? Or did she even talk about me while in the midst of the great J. B. Carmichael?”
Mum rolled her eyes. “I don’t know. Once she got over me, she couldn’t stop staring at your father. It’s obnoxious. We should definitely hire an actor to play your dad.”
Dad shook his head. “Rubbish. She was enamored with your mum and couldn’t look her in the eyes because of it.”
Mum considered this. “Really?”
“Aye, really.”
“Well, now I feel bad.”
I chuckled and nudged her back. “Definitely hiring actors next year.”
“As always, she gave you a great report,” Dad told me. “Straight A’s, polite, respectful, involved in class discussions. You know you’re so perfect, kid. These parents’ evenings are starting to get bori—” Dad abruptly cut off as he drew to a halt.
“Braden?” Mum frowned up at him.
Dad’s features had drawn tight.
Both Mum and I followed his gaze.
Discomfort shot through me as I found his attention was on Callan.
Callan leaned against the wall, and standing next to him was a good-looking but very bored-looking older blond man. It had to be Callan’s dad.