9. Ivy
Due to my parents being coaches, my commandment growing up was if you aren’t fifteen minutes early, you’re late, but then you threw in my overanalyzing brain, and I ended up at the coffee shop twenty minutes early. I wanted to make sure there wasn’t any traffic.
I didn’t even drive.
That was how worked up I was. My knee bounced, and I studied it, seeing two hairs I forgot to shave. Damn it. Why was shaving a kneecap so hard?
Ugh. Why did I wear this overall dress?
Oh yeah. Cause Esme dressed me. She wanted me to look happy, not here for your bullshit, and that meant wearing a denim overall dress and a black crop top under it with my high-top chucks and my laces tied around my ankles. I did like this style though. It felt fun, flirty, yet modest enough for someone who didn’t show a lot of skin.
I still couldn’t believe I was getting coffee with Callum. It felt like… we’d broken up and were trying to remain friends. I mean, it wasn’t far off from the truth. We were best friends and stopped talking. I spoke to him every day for a decade and then… nothing.
Yeah, because the stuff with his dad was big! I hated that he’d never told me, and I hated that he kept it from me all this time. He needed me. A cold thought interrupted me. He didn’t, clearly, because he’d stopped coming into my life.
Damnit. Sweat pooled on my forehead, and I used a napkin to dab it off. I had nothing to be nervous about. Maybe we’d just talk? Ask normal questions?
The bell rang, signaling the door opening, and my breath caught in my throat when Callum entered. He wasn’t one to walk. He strutted. He made the world his bitch and loved it. He ran a hand through his hair, his intense gaze moving around the small coffee shop until it landed on me.
I bolted up.
Why? Why did I stand? Ugh. My face heated as his face lit up. He looked happy to see me. Super happy. It reminded me of the time I surprised him in his bedroom for his birthday. I decorated it with decorations from his favorite movie (Star Wars: The Empire Strikes Back) and jumped out from the closet. He laughed so hard and smiled so wide I still remembered feeling like I was the coolest thing ever. We were also ten.
This felt like that.
“Hey,” he said, his attention moving from my eyes, hair, to my shoulders, chest, then my legs. His nostrils flared once before he shoved his hands into his pockets. “You look amazing.”
My skin buzzed at his perusal. I hope I looked good for him.
“Oh. Thanks. You too.” I jutted my chin toward his jeans and black T-shirt. Simple, yet perfect. The material clung to him, and I tried not to notice the strong pectoral muscles but failed. They seemed larger outside of the stadium where everyone was ripped or working out. Here, in this quaint coffee shop, he stood out. My skin buzzed with the urge to run a finger along the cords on his forearm. They were so evident and strong.
We stared at each other, neither of us saying a word. My heart galloped the longer the silence went on, my mind blank.
He gripped the back of his neck before extending his arm toward the counter. “This is on me, please. Unless you have something already?”
“Nope. I waited.” I glanced at my watch. “We’re both early,” I said, chuckling. “Some things never change.”
He joined my laugh. “I wish I could. I’d love to be one of those efficient people who show up with a minute to spare. I just can’t.”
“Well, you know I can’t either.”
He hummed a response as we waited in line. He stood near me, his body heat transferring to me. He smelled like aftershave and pine, the same as he always did. It was like his body projected this gorgeous, perfect scent that fit him so well. The familiar smell reminded me of long summer days and even longer nights, driving around the cornfields with the windows down. My heart skipped a beat before the reality of the situation clouded.
We weren’t those same people. I certainly wasn’t.
“Your favorite drink is the iced chai with oatmilk and extra cinnamon?”
I nodded, charmed he remembered. “You still straight black coffee with a splash of vanilla if you’re feeling spicy that day?”
“That’s me.” He placed a hand on my lower back, nudging me forward gently.
His hand covered half my back, and I gulped. For whatever reason, when strangers touched me, I hated it. I cringed or jumped back. But when Callum did, my body seemed to buzz with life. Even now, when I wasn’t sure I’d even forgiven him or trusted him again, I fought a smile.
He ordered for the both of us and handed over his card, his eyes dancing with amusement. I elbowed his side, curious. “Why do you have that expression on your face?”
“What look?” He raised his brows, smirking.
“Mischief.” I poked his side again. “Despite you avoiding me for three years, I know you, Callum O’Toole. Don’t forget that.”
Some of the light left his eyes, and he nodded, almost solemn. “I haven’t.”
Okay, awkward.
I hadn’t mean for the comment to be rude. Lies. Okay, maybe I did a little bit. We were getting a little too chummy for all that went down. It was like my guard shattered, and my mind caught up and commanded it to be rebuilt. Callum buying me coffee wasn’t going to change everything, but it was a good start. Plus, if we were going to try this friend-thing, I couldn’t play the hot and cold. Guilt ate at me as we grabbed our drinks and found a private table in the back. His dad confession really shook me. That had to take a toll. I sat in the booth portion, and he chose the chair.
His legs were so long his knees hit mine, and I nudged them. “Hey.”
He arched a brow. “Hm?”
“I’m sorry about the comment. I don’t… I don’t want to bring that up every five seconds. I’m not ready to jump into a friendship with you again, but I also don’t think it’s healthy to throw the past in our faces all the time. I said my part yesterday.” I swallowed and held up my drink. “Thank you for the drink.”
“You’re welcome.” He studied me hard, his attention moving all over my face. It bounced from my mouth to my eyes, my cheeks and jaw. “I have so many questions for you.”
“Yeah?” I leaned back into the booth, crossing one leg over the other. I tucked my foot behind his knee, like we used to do, then immediately yanked it back. “Wow, sorry?—”
“I want it back.” He grabbed my foot and placed it behind his knee. His large hand covered my whole foot entirely as he positioned it. “I’m struggling a bit to be honest with you. When I see you, I’m brought back years like nothing has changed. I want to pull you into a hug and mess with your hair, but I know I can’t.”
“I’m struggling too.” I exhaled, then swallowed down the ball of emotion in my throat. He seemed so vulnerable, open. He used to be that way, but the persona I saw of him on campus was the opposite.
Party animal. Always down for anything. Slept around. Smiling all the time.
He stared at me as he scrubbed his hand over his jaw, almost like he struggled with what to say or do. I felt bad for him even though I shouldn’t. I nudged him. “What’s your first question?”
Relief flooded his eyes. “What have you been doing the last three years? Tell me everything.”
I laughed. “Callum, that is too large of a statement.”
He brushed off my comment. “You don’t post anything online where I can follow you. I have no idea what you’ve been doing except clearly joining the athletic program to get the internship and volunteering at the animal shelter.”
“You tried following me?” My stomach bottomed out.
He nodded. He sipped his coffee and stared over my shoulder with his gaze unfocused. “After about three weeks, I knew I fucked up. We had never fought. Not once. This was our first huge one, but then football really started up, and I was a dumb eighteen-year-old. Time went on, and I pretended I didn’t miss you. That’s not an excuse, but it’s the truth.” He cleared his throat and waited until I met his eyes. “Three weeks turned into months, then years. It got easier to not think about you. Pride got in the way too at some point. You could’ve reached out to me. Hell, I’m a celebrity on campus. At any point, you could’ve found me like you did in high school when my head was in my ass.”
I remained still, my pulse pounding in my ears. Hearing this hurt. Even after my own promise to not bring up the past, it was clear we couldn’t move forward without addressing it.
“Nothing in my life felt right without you.” His voice came out all scratchy and full of emotion. “I’m so sorry.”
“Damnit.” I sniffed. “I told myself there were no more tears. I shed enough over you, over this.”
He winced, like the fact I’d cried gutted him. “I took out my anger and frustration of my life on you, the one person I never wanted to hurt. The stuff with my dad was horrible, and I’m still angry about it. I never had anything bad happen to me, and I had no coping mechanisms to deal with it. Instead of addressing my issues, I pushed them down and avoided them. Then, seeing you at the stadium was like someone dumped a cold bucket of water on me, waking me up.”
“You said we were both to blame,” I whispered, hating how tight my muscles were. My legs ached when I was stressed. “It was so easy blaming you for everything that night. To say you broke us without me owning any of it. I struggled with adjusting to you playing football here, moving to campus, and already having such a life. I was jealous you were going to move on without me, the deadweight. I mean, hell, my parents barely acknowledge my existence because of sports.”
His jaw ticked. “You’re not a deadweight, Ivy.”
“I know that now,” I fired back, not unkindly. “I didn’t have to block you, but it seemed easier to officially end this before you did. To hurt you before you hurt me more. But now I wished you’d told me about your dad.”
He blinked slowly, releasing a long breath. “When I drink, I replay everything I said to you that night. I don’t have many regrets in life, Ivy Lee, but losing you is one of them. Now, I want to hear about you, please. All the things. Even if it’s hard for me.”
I sighed. “I’d prefer this new stage of our friendship to be honest. Even if it’s painful. You asked what I’ve been doing the last three years? Well. I’ve grown up a little. I prefer quality over quantity. I enjoy my alone time and my own company, which is crazy. I stopped caring what my parents think and want to break into the NFL for me. You know I love stats and facts, and I want to help the women in NFL stats. I know I’m not a burden to anyone, and if they think that, they don’t deserve to be in my life.”
His eyes widened, and he grinned hard. “Fuck yeah, that’s my girl. I love this version of you.”
I lit up. His entire face had pride written all over it. Making Callum proud always brought me a thrill. It seemed that hadn’t changed. He used to call me his girl in high school too, and every instance, it made my heart skip a beat. That tradition continued too.
“I hate that I knew what you’ve been doing this whole time. You’re a campus legend and are always everywhere. It made ignoring you hard.”
He blushed slightly before waving a hand. “Most of it is probably exaggerated.”
I pursed my lips. “I’m gonna beg to differ. Do you party a lot?”
He nodded.
“Pose with fans often? Meet at a bar every Tuesday night? Hook up a lot?”
“I mean, yes, but I also tutor guys on the team and volunteer at the same place you do. When I wanted to follow you and couldn’t, I searched every shelter near campus until I found the one you went to. I made sure to never be on your shift, but I loved hearing the owner of the shelter talk about you.” He sucked in a deep breath. “I sound crazy when I say it out loud.”
“Yeah, but you’ve always been crazy.” I nudged his knee again. “In an effort of being honest, it feels really good to hear you admit this. There were countless times I assumed you’d never think of me again.”
“Ivy.” His eyes flashed darker. He was pissed.
“It’s not that wild. You’re with a different girl every night. You could hang out with anyone on campus. You have social media fan accounts. I’m proud of who I am, but I’m not that.”
“You’re unforgettable.”
My body broke out in chills at the intensity of his voice, the way his gaze bored into mine. He looked primed to jump across the table and shake me into belief. I sipped my drink as a temporary barrier. “Okay then.”
“Ivy.”
“Hm?”
“If we’re going to do this, please ask me directly instead of assuming anything. I’ve played into my playboy role well. It’s what the team needs.”
“It’s what your family needed too.” I smiled, a little sad. “You’re always adjusting to the wants of others. Even me. I promise I’ll ask you things directly instead of letting gossip or posts inform me. To be fair, I don’t track this down. I end up hearing it.”
“I’m sure.” He gripped the back of his neck, the tension evident in his shoulders.
“I’ll agree to that only if you promise something too.”
“Anything.” He leaned onto his elbows, his expression open just for me. That was always my favorite part about our friendship.
I got to see this side of him when no one else did. They all got the party guy, the playboy, the goofball. I got the real him, and I was selfish and wanted it again. “Be real with me. Don’t be who you think I need. Be you. I always loved you, not the guy everyone else wants you to be.”
“What if I forgot who I was?” he asked so quietly I wasn’t sure I heard him.
“Then I’ll help you find him.”
He closed his eyes, his lips slightly turned up as he relaxed into his chair for the first time since we arrived. When he blinked them open, he seemed lighter, happier. “Okay so we covered that I’m a mess, my dad is a piece of shit, and you’re more mature and amazing. This seems unbalanced.”
“Ah, don’t go too fast. My parents are messy as hell and tolerate me. I still have plenty of mom and dad issues we could sort through if you want.”
Like the fact they thought it was cute I wanted to be an athletic trainer. It pissed me off and motivated me all at the same time.
He laughed the deep, infectious laugh I grew up with. “God, I missed that mouth of yours.”
I knew what he meant by the comment: my verbal responses. But my body still heated. It was unfair how attractive he was, objectively of course. He made it clear that we’d never cross that line, and honestly, it was foolish for me to even react to him.
We were barely friends again, and I had zero business entertaining that thought. I smiled, forcing myself to find my anger. It was easier to stay mad at him, to remember the hurt of three years than to feel this weird, zing toward him.
Because that was not an option.