Chapter 21
Millie
I park my little car in Archie’s garage—Roxy and Fallon assured me that the guys gather at Archie’s, win or lose—and ring the doorbell, my heart ticking a little faster than usual.
I know Callum is already here because his sleek blackmobile is parked nearby, and the anticipation of seeing him stirs under my skin.
For the briefest of moments during our little fight, there was a vibe, like we were seconds away from kissing.
I’ve been trying to convince myself that my mind was just playing tricks on me, but I can’t deny it was the first time I’d seen Callum that playful since I met him.
And that’s not helping with the inconvenient attraction I already feel for him.
Archie opens his front door with unusual gravity, his signature grin dimmed, lips pressed tight. “All right, Millie?” he asks, forcing a smile that doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “Come on in.”
“Sorry about the game,” I murmur, stepping inside and peeling off my coat. “You played well. It was—”
“Tut, tut.” Finn emerges from the living room, wagging a finger dramatically. “What happened at the game stays at the game.”
I nod in understanding. Though, I’m guessing that rule only applies when they lose, since last time they didn’t mind dissecting every goal and pass.
Everyone but Fallon is already hanging out in the living room, and I can’t help but wonder how they all got here so fast. Callum is slumped in an armchair in the corner, head down, but the moment I step in, he looks up.
His gaze is instantly drawn to mine, and something tightens in my chest. He looks as defeated as Archie.
His jaw is set, shoulders stiff. I want to cross the room and give him a hug, but I stop myself.
That would be a bit weird, especially since Roxy is watching me like a hawk.
Instead, I take a seat on the blue armchair closest to me.
“It stinks, man.” Archie sinks into the couch. “I could have easily deflected Moja’s goal. I should have—”
Finn slaps a hand over Archie’s mouth and shoots me a pointed look. “And that’s why we don’t talk about it.”
“Yeah,” Wade continues. “We’re moving on.”
The doorbell rings again, and Fallon enters a moment later, wrapped in a cream-colored trench coat. She starts grumbling about the traffic while the others tease her about taking the scenic route again.
Before long, we’re all having a drink and chatting, but it’s definitely not as lively as after a win. I briefly think that we shouldn’t get together like this after a loss—or that I shouldn’t come—but it’s probably when the guys need their friends the most.
Callum keeps stealing glances my way, and well, I guess I’m doing the same.
I wish we could just be alone and talk freely.
I’m not even sure why he came here tonight, and a part of me wants to believe it’s because I’m here.
If I were to hazard a guess, socializing after a loss isn’t exactly his thing.
“Have you seen that new ice cream place in South Kensington? It just opened last week,” Roxy says, popping a crisp into her mouth and licking salt from her fingers. “The flavours look so good.”
Finn arches an eyebrow, his body sprawled sideways on the armchair like a housecat. “They opened an ice cream place in February? Not exactly smart timing.”
“I could eat ice cream every day of the year,” I say with a chuckle, curling my fingers around my mug of tea. “No matter the weather.”
“Yeah,” Callum says from across the room, his eyes landing on me. “Because you have a sweet tooth.”
I wink at him. “You know it.”
“Ice cream in February? No thanks,” Archie says, rubbing his arms for emphasis. “Cold on cold, you know?”
“Maybe that’s why it would actually work?” Cameron suggests. “It’s not a bad option for a Valentine’s Day date either.”
“Speaking of—big plans for tomorrow?” Finn asks Cameron, waggling his eyebrows like a cartoon villain.
Cameron rolls his eyes. “Yes, I have a date.”
A general chorus of teasing “oohs” carries through the living room.
“Let’s hope eighty-third time’s the charm,” Archie quips with a grin.
Cameron just shakes his head, eyes flitting to Fallon, then back to the guys. “You’re just jealous. At least I’m trying.”
“And failing miserably,” Finn says. “What was wrong with the last one again?”
“Showed up in a wedding dress on the second date,” he mumbles, his voice barely audible.
“What’s that? Speak up, lad,” Finn presses, a grin forming on his lips.
“You know,” Cameron says, crossing his arms.
“That she wanted to see how you’d look in your wedding pictures?” Archie chimes in. “Yeah, we do. Still hurt that she didn’t ask us to come in our groomsmen suits.”
“As if you’d be one,” Cameron snorts. “Groomsman spots are reserved for supportive friends.”
“Well, you do have to find a wife first,” Finn says, laughing. “So, let’s not get carried away, eh?”
Callum’s gaze is fixed on me again, and I can’t help but glance his way. There’s a hint of amusement in his eyes, along with something else I can’t quite decipher.
“Millie,” Roxy says, standing up abruptly. “Can you help me grab some more ice and drinks?”
I frown, surprised at the request, but the look in her eye tells me it’s not up for discussion. Fallon stands up as well and follows us into the kitchen.
“Okay. You’re in big trouble,” Roxy whispers.
“What are you talking about?” I chuckle.
She gives me a pointed look. “You are falling for Callum. I know you.”
My face warms. “Shhh. No, I’m not.”
“Then why do I have to shh?”
“She has a point,” Fallon chimes in, filling the pail with ice from the dispenser.
“You have to stop this right now, or you will get hurt,” Roxy continues.
“You’re totally overreacting,” I say, a hand on my hip. “Everything is under control. We’re not really dating, you know that. We haven’t even kissed.”
“Well, the look in your eyes says you want to change that,” Roxy says, leveling me with a knowing stare.
My eyes widen in horror. I can’t look like I want to kiss Callum. No matter how much I actually do.
Fallon nods vigorously. “I noticed it too. You’re always sneaking glances at him, and you blush if he looks at you.”
“I do not,” I protest, pressing my palms to my cheeks as if that’ll quell the redness blooming there. “You two are delusional.”
“Um, no.” Roxy leans against the counter, rubbing her belly. “You are. Callum is a complicated man, and I have never seen him with a girl.”
I swallow hard. That’s a piece of information I didn’t ask for—but had secretly been dying to know. I had a feeling he wasn’t a big relationship guy.
“And?” I ask, defying her with my gaze.
Roxy tilts her head. “And he probably won’t start now.” Her tone softens, and she leans forward to tuck a strand of hair behind my ear. “I love you, Millie, but you always see the good in everyone.”
“Look, Callum and I are just friends.” I force a smile.
“Don’t worry about me. I know exactly what I’m getting into.
” With that, I straighten my shoulders and grab the ice bucket before either of them can press further.
Channeling feigned confidence, I walk back to the living room with a practiced smile and a pounding heart.
Because the truth is, I have zero clue what I’m doing, or how I’ll get out of it unwounded.
There’s no denying—at least to myself—that I feel something for Callum.
But I’m not stupid. I know he’s not interested.
Roxy is right. Maybe I should put an end to this fake dating thing before it’s too late.
As everyone’s preparing to leave, I ask to use the toilet to avoid being alone with Callum in the garage. I’m in a fragile state right now, and I need to regroup. Who knows what I’d do if I ended up alone with him in a semi-dark garage?
I take my time washing my hands, letting the cool water ground me. Once I’ve composed myself, I bid Archie goodbye and take the elevator down. The soft hum of the lift fills the silence, but my pulse is anything but quiet. When the doors slide open, I step into the dimly lit garage and freeze.
Callum is there—leaning against a concrete column, his face half-shadowed by the low lighting.
My heart leaps in my chest, and I beg it to calm down. “Hey, what are you doing here?”
“Just wanted to make sure you reached your car okay,” he says, shoving his hands into his pockets. “Underground garages aren’t exactly safe.”
I frown, looking around the polished and quiet garage. “This one probably is, though. It’s a private garage for the residence, isn’t it?” And it’s not even late, I silently add.
He glances around, a soft chuckle escaping him. “Right, I guess you’ve got a point. Anyway, thanks for coming today, even if we lost. Having company was actually a good thing.”
I smile. “Of course. I’ll support my team, win or lose. And I’m glad being with your friends helped. I’m guessing it’s not your usual post-loss routine.”
He exhales slowly, his voice quieter now. “Naw. I usually get heckled by Fergie until he falls asleep. So yeah, no contest there.”
I laugh, the sound echoing faintly off the walls. “By the way, I sent the shelter the video you made for Princess, and they love it. Since we have the big Valentine’s Day post tomorrow, I was thinking we could post it on Monday? Make sure it gets the full spotlight.”
“Yeah, that works.”
I shift on my feet. “Well, I’d better go, but thanks again for helping Princess.”
“Anytime,” he rumbles in a low voice. I’m not sure who moved, but he’s suddenly closer to me.
So close, I could wrap my arms around him without taking a step, though I guess I’d have to stand on my tiptoes.
The warmth of his body, the intensity of his gaze, the way his breath clouds the air between us—it’s all too much, and I’m two seconds away from doing something incredibly stupid.
My heart thuds so loud, it’s drowning out my common sense.
Just as I’m closing the inches between us, Roxy’s voice echoes in my head. “You’re going to get hurt.”
I stop, backing up a step. “Well, bye,” I blurt, spinning toward my car like it’s the last lifeboat on the Titanic. “See you on Monday.”
I fumble with my keys, about to unlock the door, when he calls after me.
“What are you doing tomorrow?” His words come quickly, his footsteps echoing through the quiet space as he walks up behind me.
I turn, brows knitting. “Nothing in particular.”
“How about ice cream?”
And there goes my heart again. “What?”
“Well, I figure it wouldn’t hurt being seen together on Valentine’s Day.” He scratches the back of his head, avoiding my eyes. “Otherwise, I’m going to be viewed as some crabbit recluse again.”
“Oh, right.” I nod numbly, trying to ignore the bucket of ice water that was just dumped over my head “Of course! You know me, I can never turn down ice cream,” I add, my voice a little too high, too awkward.
He smiles softly, and I hate how it breaks down my defences. “It’s a date, then. See you tomorrow.”
“A fake date,” I add, mostly to myself. I’m sure he doesn’t need the reminder.
He turns around and pauses, then nods. “I’ll pick you up at three.”
I slip into my car, slam the door shut, and grip the steering wheel like it’s the only thing tethering me to reality. Eyes twisting shut, I suck in a deep breath, then another.
I just need to get through this date. Then we can break up. We didn’t go through all this trouble just to end our relationship on the eve of Valentine’s Day. And he’s right. If we’re not seen together, some tabloids might twist the narrative to start printing dirt on him again.
It’s just one more day. I can do this.