Chapter Thirteen
THIRTEEN
I am reeling after that eye-opening chat with Kat’s PA and the discovery that Callum is not a festive letch after all.
In fact, I should one hundred per cent be apologizing to him.
I got him wrong again. Not only do I find myself looping this same bloody Monday, but now I appear to be revisiting Callum’s flaws and discovering that they’re not actually flaws after all?
So annoying!
First, I learn that he’s not the nepo baby I thought he was.
Instead he had a similar upbringing to mine and finding that I have that in common with my work nemesis has been like spotting a fleck of gold in the soil.
By which I mean, oddly compelling, as if I want to reach out and grasp the gold, but I won’t because I know I’ll get muddy.
And now it turns out I totally invented his role as villain at the office Christmas party, when in reality he’d really looked out for a vulnerable member of the team.
It’s exasperating to say the least to learn that once again, I’ve got him wrong.
I gratefully accept a glass of plane wine and knock it back in one go.
Is it possible that I’ve got Callum Bang all wrong?
Now it’s my turn to snort with laughter.
Of course I haven’t! Sure, two of the things I found most annoying about him have recently been debunked, but let’s not forget the fact that he was incredibly rude to me about my job the day we met.
Let’s not forget how he dismissed my entire career and all of my hard work as nothing more than ‘frothy’. That alone is bad enough.
‘Laughing at your own jokes again, Moss?’
I turn to glare at the man who remains my rival.
‘Must you manspread all over the place?’ I ask churlishly as we settle into our seats.
‘These legs have got to go somewhere.’
‘Perhaps they could walk you right off the plane?’ I suggest, slowly and deliberately taking up as much space as possible with my own legs by way of retaliation.
Only I quickly realise that my small frame means I don’t have nearly as much leg to play with.
So, in an attempt to manspread right back at him, I end up slinking down in my seat to try and reach my legs out.
Callum watches me with something like amusement written across his face.
‘Pleased with yourself?’ he asks once I’ve stretched my right leg as far into his space as possible.
‘Very.’
‘You’re actually in my space.’
‘These legs have got to go somewhere,’ I parrot.
It’s at this point that I realize my leg is actually pressed up against his and now my whole body is vibrating in response.
How is it possible to dislike someone so much while simultaneously feeling so utterly attracted to them?
Because, let’s face it, that’s exactly where I am right now.
Everything he does makes me bristle with irritation and temptation.
Every look makes that flame burn brighter.
I track my gaze up to the soft cotton of his sweatpants, watch him lean forward to give the briefest glimpse of bare back above waistband before he sits back.
Turns that gaze onto me, which seems to pin me right to the spot. I’m powerless to move.
I’m also worried that my tongue might be hanging directly out of my mouth.
‘Moss?’
‘Bang?’ I reply, and I wish saying his surname like that didn’t sound so much like an invite.
‘Just checking in,’ he says, gaze snagging on my lips.
‘What?’
‘You’ve got a stray eyelash.’ He nods towards my mouth, his pupils dilating.
I run a finger along my lips, trying to find it.
Callum’s jawline tenses.
‘Did I get it?’
He shakes his head. ‘You mind if I …’ he offers.
‘Sure,’ I whisper, voice catching in my throat.
He reaches his hand towards me, his thumb brushing oh-so lightly across the top of my lip. I close my eyes for the briefest moment as the sensation of his touch fills up every single part of me.
‘There,’ he says, watching me closely as he holds out his thumb, tiny eyelash balanced on it. ‘You should make a wish.’
Yes, I should. I should wish to escape this never-ending Monday. I should wish for things to go well with Hamish so that I can finally get out of here. I should wish for world peace and also for my hair to look this great every single day.
I wish for none of those things.
As I lean forward, ready to blow the lash off Callum’s thumb, I lock my gaze on his for a moment before I make the wish.
I see that his lips have parted slightly as he watches me, Adam’s apple bobbing.
I see the flicker of something in his own eyes.
And as I bat my lids shut, I wonder if he’s feeling the same conflicting emotions as I am.
If he’s just as attracted to me as vice versa.
And I’m wondering, now that I’ve stepped firmly into my fuck-it era, if I should somehow capitalize on that.
I blow a steady stream of air across Callum’s thumb.
My bottom lip accidentally, and ever so gently, brushes the tip of his finger which does wild, wild things to my insides.
I make my wish and open my eyes.
Watch as he stares intently back at me.
‘What did you wish for?’ he asks, voice gravelly.
You. Just for one day. Just to scratch this itch.
I’m weighing up whether to tell him as much when we’re rudely interrupted.
‘Nina?’
God damn it, Hamish! He’s spotted me as he gets on the plane, and it’s at this point that I realize everyone else is booing the latecomer. I’d been so busy entranced by the feeling of Callum’s thumb on my lips that I hadn’t even noticed that we’d not taken off yet.
‘Dude, fancy seeing you here!’ Hamish is saying, oblivious to the fact that the majority of this plane is expressing their distaste at him.
‘Oh, hey, Hamish,’ I say weakly.
‘Is that all you’ve got?’ Hamish asks. ‘Come on, man, it’s been years! It’s so good to see you.’
‘Mm,’ I say half-heartedly as an attendant tries to show him to his seat. ‘Looks like you’d better go.’
‘Okay, but we’ll talk later, Nee. There’s so much to catch up on!’
I nod distractedly as he’s ushered away before turning back to Callum, who is now impassive.
‘Friend of yours?’
‘Old boyfriend,’ I supply.
Callum bobs his head up and down a couple of times before picking up a book to read as we take off. And I can’t help but wish Hamish hadn’t interrupted that moment.
The first meal is served and it’s the usual king prawns and Tim Tams and today, I can hardly eat because all I can think about is Callum. Every single move he makes is turning my insides to mush. Why am I so frisky today and what am I going to do about it?
By the time we fly over Eastern Europe, I have reached my own personal boiling point and become acutely aware that something has got to give.
Callum makes even stretching look sexy. Every now and then, he interlocks his fingers and presses his arms forward and I’m telling you now, it’s hot as hell.
Which is apt, because hell is where he belongs.
Maybe in a slightly less extreme part of hell than I’d previously thought when I’d branded him a lecherous nepo baby, but still.
I am helpless as he pushes the sleeves of his sweater up past his elbows and locks his fingers together again in another stretch.
Those forearms are my undoing.
‘Do you want to get out of here?’ I whisper.
Callum turns to look at me.
‘I’m not sure that’s possible, Moss,’ he says, with the beginnings of a surprised smile. ‘We are on a plane, after all.’
The fact that I now love the way he says my last name is confirmation that I have lost all of my marbles. The time travel has truly got to me. It was an inevitable decline, really.
‘Oh ye of little faith.’
‘What did you have in mind?’
‘Out there,’ I say, gesturing past the curtain that’s been drawn right in front of our seats. Towards the empty space where we initially boarded, which marks the start of our premium economy section. There’s nothing out there but the staircase up to business and the cockpit beyond.
‘And what would you like to do there?’ he asks.
Do not say you.
I clear my throat. ‘I may have smuggled two jeroboams of champagne and a box of extraordinarily expensive chocolates onto this plane.’
Callum takes a moment to process this information.
‘You are just full of surprises, aren’t you, Moss?’
I smile. ‘You coming or not?’
‘Sounds like it would be rude not to.’
‘That’s good, because I need someone to reach the overhead lockers, take my bag out and grab one of the bottles.’
‘Now I feel like you’re just using me.’
‘You’ll get over it,’ I beam, taking a quick look up and down the aisle before sneaking past the curtain and stepping into the foyer out front.
Half an hour later and I’m snorting with laughter, sides aching.
‘No, you didn’t?’ I say when I finally catch my breath.
‘I promise I did. Scout’s honour.’ Callum holds up a three-finger salute.
‘You’re telling me you swam across a lake in the middle of winter because your friend had capsized his kayak?’
‘He couldn’t swim. Someone had to!’
‘Weren’t there people working there? Like, whoever decided to rent out their kayaks to a stag do in the first place?’
‘Well, yes,’ Callum concedes. ‘The rest of our group was way too drunk and I might have had quite a few drinks myself by this point, so I only realized that there was a reason no one else was rescuing him by the time I was halfway across the lake.’
‘Oh God,’ I snort again, taking another swig of champagne. We’ve hardly made a dent in the jeroboam and I already feel tipsy. ‘Please tell me the reason.’
‘It was one of those man-made boating lakes and you could stand up in it, even in the middle.’
‘Wait, so your friend wasn’t drowning?’
‘He bloody well looked like he was.’ Callum tuts, which makes me laugh even harder. ‘Honestly, he was flapping about so much.’
‘And you thought you were being the hero?’