Chapter 28
KAI
The sound of Callum sweet-talking my mum had me rushing this morning.
He really had been around in five minutes flat - I barely had time to shower before he was downstairs charming the life out of her.
What was that kid doing if he wasn’t pestering me?
I smirked to myself as I pulled my hoodie over my head.
He wasn’t just a friend. He was like a brother to me. We’d been mates our whole lives - one of the few people who’d actually met my dad before he died. He’d been there through the worst parts of everything, the stuff I didn’t talk about, the stuff I didn’t even have words for half the time.
Callum had this superpower: no matter how upset you were, no matter how heavy things felt, he could still make you smile. Even when you didn’t want to. Even when you thought you couldn’t.
I grabbed my keys off the dresser and headed downstairs, hearing him laugh at something Mum said - that loud, bright laugh that filled a room whether you wanted it to or not. It tugged a smile out of me before I even reached the bottom step.
“Okay, Callum, stop flirting, would you? That’s my mother,” I joked as I walked into the kitchen.
He was - no joke - eating pancakes. Fresh ones.
Somehow he’d convinced Mum to make him a whole stack.
“Oh, you didn’t make him pancakes,” I groaned dramatically, dropping my head into my hands.
“I had to, Kai,” Mum said, laughing. “He said he hadn’t eaten since yesterday morning.”
“Callum, you liar,” I said, pointing at him. “You went for a Toby Carvery last night with your old lady.”
“Okay, I may have told a little white lie,” he said, pinching his fingers together to show just how tiny it was. Mum shook her head, a smile tugging at her mouth.
“She offered, and you expect me to somehow say no?” he went on, shrugging as he scraped the last bite into his mouth like he’d earned it. “Christ Cap, you don’t know me at all.”
He licked the plate. Actually licked it.
“Animal,” I muttered, shaking my head.
“Kate, tell me what your secret is,” he said, leaning back in his chair like he lived here. “My Mum’s food doesn’t taste as good as this.”
Mum grinned so wide her eyes crinkled. “I’ve had Jackie’s food. There’s nothing wrong with it!” She said, defending one of her oldest friends.
“There’s nothing right with it either,” he shot back, finishing off the orange juice she’d poured him.
“Mum, you have to stop treating him to everything in this house,” I said, leaning against the doorframe. “This is why he never wants to leave.”
“But I like having him here,” she said, pouting. “It keeps my baby home for longer.”
“For the last time, I’m not a baby. I’m seventeen.” I sighed dramatically.
“Yeah, you are,” Callum said with a cheeky grin. “A bloody big one at that. How tall are you now?” He pointed towards me, honey glistening on the tip of his finger.
“Watch it, you,” I warned, waving a finger and stepping towards him.
He put his hands up defensively, then began licking his fingers. “No, I’m serious. How tall are you now? ’Cause I’m six foot, and you’ve got a couple inches on me.”
“Six-three, I think,” I said with a shrug.
“You hear that, Kate?” he said, turning to her, eyes wide. “Six-foot-three baby. That’s got to be some kind of record.”
Mum laughed so hard her face went red.
I grabbed him by the shoulders and hauled him out of the chair. “Right, we’re leaving.”
“Thanks for the pancakes, Kate,” he said, still grinning as he followed me to the door.
“Aww, does baby need a nap?” he teased, grabbing my cheeks between his hands.
I swatted him away. “Get those grubby fingers off me.”
“Come back anytime, darling!” Mum called from the doorway.
“Don’t worry, Kate, I’ll be back,” he said, winking at her.
I clipped him round the ear, but it didn’t stop him. He sauntered toward his car like he owned the street.
“Oooh, Kate looked good this morning, didn’t she?” he said, nudging me with his elbow.
“That’s my mum,” I warned, glaring at him.
“I know,” he said proudly. “I’m two for two this week. I must be some kind of MILF magnet.”
“You’re ridiculous,” I said, shaking my head for what felt like the third time this morning. “They just feel sorry for you.”
“Okay, maybe not Kate,” he said, climbing into the driver’s seat of his silver Vauxhall Corsa. “But Alex’s mum definitely wanted a bit of this.” He gestured down the length of his body like he was presenting a prize on a game show.
“Keep dreaming,” I said - though honestly, I wasn’t sure he was wrong.
I should have known when Callum said he’d got his keys back after three months without them that he wouldn’t actually have a plan - that he’d just want to drive. I didn’t mind, though. It was a nice day for it: windows down, sun pouring in, music blasting so loud the speakers rattled.
We had the same taste in music - anything with a good guitar line and drums that made your chest thump.
Mostly male bands, and anything by Arctic Monkeys.
Callum sang too, not quietly but full-volume, catching every note like he was auditioning for something.
He wasn’t good, but he sang anyway. And so did I.
He drove like he’d missed his car - foot heavy on the accelerator, braking like he was testing the limits of physics metres before a junction. I had one hand wrapped around the Jesus handle, knuckles white.
“Oh, I’ve missed you,” he purred, rubbing the steering wheel like it was a person.
“Get a room,” I joked, turning the music up even louder.
After an hour of aimless driving, he finally swung into a parking space by the pier, tyres crunching over gravel.
“Fancy a milkshake?” he said, pulling the key from the ignition. The sun had been beaming through the windows the whole drive, and sweat clung to the back of my neck.
“I have a feeling it doesn’t matter what I say - you’re already parked up,” I laughed, pushing my hair off my forehead.
“You’re right about that,” he mused, stretching as he climbed out of the car, arms lifting above his head like he’d been trapped for hours. “It’s fucking hot, and I want a milkshake. You in?”
“That does sound good,” I said as I hopped out and shut the door behind me, the heat hitting me full in the face. “But I’m focused on my routine.”
“Yeah, yeah,” Callum said, swatting the air dramatically and rolling his eyes as he rounded the front of the car.
The heat hit me properly then - warm pavement, salt in the air, the distant crash of waves. Callum locked the car and slung an arm around my shoulders for half a second before dropping it again, already striding toward the pier like he owned it.
Callum and I had a similar sense of style when we weren’t in school.
We both lived in gym clothes - Gymshark, Nike, Adidas, tracksuits and trainers.
Comfort over everything. But in this heat, he’d gone for black jean shorts and a black vest top today, showing off the arms he pretended he didn’t train for.
I, on the other hand, had made the mistake of wearing full-length denim jeans. In this heat. Brilliant. The white fitted tank top helped a bit, but the jeans were already sticking to my legs, and I could feel the sun cooking the back of my neck.
Callum strutted ahead like the weather didn’t touch him, sunglasses on, vest clinging to him from the drive. He looked like he was heading to a festival, not an ice-cream shop.
I tugged at the hem of my tank top, trying to get some air between the fabric and my skin as we crossed the car park.
The salty breeze coming off the sea helped, but not enough to stop me regretting every clothing choice I’d made this morning.
I wouldn’t usually even consider eating ice cream or having a milkshake, but maybe I could make an exception today.
I could just train harder when I got home. Make up for it. Burn it off. Easy.
But then my mind drifted to the scouts, and for a split second my dad’s face flashed in my head. That was enough. Yeah - I was sticking to my diet.
The further we walked down the pier, the more the sea breeze picked up, cool air threading through the heat and brushing against my skin. It felt good - a relief after the oven-like car. Callum didn’t wait around when we reached the shop; he pushed the door open straight away, practically bouncing.
Whip It. His favourite ice-cream place. He’d dragged me here enough times that the bell above the door felt familiar.
It chimed as we stepped inside, and the warm, sugary air hit me instantly - vanilla, waffle cones, chocolate syrup.
The place was almost full, every booth and table buzzing with people escaping the heat.
But only one pair of eyes caught mine.
Alex’s.
He was sitting in a booth near the window, milkshake in hand, sunlight catching the side of his face. His expression shifted the second he saw me - surprise first, then something else I couldn’t quite name. My pulse stuttered before I could stop it.
I froze for half a second in the doorway, my hand still on the handle. The hot air from outside clung to my back while the cool breeze from the shop’s air conditioner brushed against my front. For a moment, it felt like I was standing between two worlds.
“Is that Alex Taylor?” Callum followed my line of sight, and before I could say anything - before I could even think - he was already bounding over there.
“Callum-” I hissed under my breath, reaching out to grab his arm, but he slipped right past me like a dog spotting someone he recognised at the park.
My stomach dropped.
Alex was still looking at me. Wide-eyed. Caught.
And Callum - oblivious, loud, unstoppable Callum - was already halfway to the booth, weaving between tables with that stupid grin on his face, ready to greet Alex like they were long-lost mates.
My pulse kicked up. Hard.
I dragged my feet behind him as Callum sauntered to their table, and before even saying a word, he plonked himself down beside Alex.
Just - sat. Right there. Like he belonged.