16. Sixteen Kaleb
Sixteen: Kaleb
I wasn't sure what came over me. Yeah, that's me.
Shit.
I couldn't help it, though. The way he'd put his hand on Freya’s shoulder and the way she’d smiled up at him—it pissed me off. It shouldn't have, but it did, and I knew how big of a problem that was.
Freya all but choked on her curry as I half-smiled at Ty, looking him up and down. He was a good-looking guy—tall and muscular. There was no doubt in my mind that any woman would find him attractive, and that only bothered me further.
“Kaleb,” I introduced myself, pulling my hand away from his. I didn't care if he didn't see Freya romantically. He genuinely seemed like a nice guy, but sometimes, they were the worst type of people. They could get away with anything because everyone around them saw them as so nice. I'd learned not to trust anyone until they proved otherwise.
Ty's eyes scraped over my heavily tattooed forearms with a curious expression, causing me to raise my eyebrows at him, and he excused himself to take another table's order.
“What the hell was that?” Freya spluttered, taking a sip of her water.
I shrugged. “I was saving you. He was going to ask you out.”
Freya cocked her brow, crossing her arms over her chest as she glared at me. “Ty? We've known each other since we were fourteen. We're platonic.”
I hummed in response, nodding at her with a sarcastic I believe you kind of look.
“You're the one who said we shouldn't have kissed.” Her tone was sharp. She thought that I completely regretted it. I didn't—far from it—but I knew she and I would never work.
Tongues of flames lapped at me, furious at my inner monologue. I’d never been so confused in my life. It was a foreign feeling for me. I was always sure—always prepared—but Freya was changing that. It ignited something inside of me, and I absolutely loved it and hated it at the same time.
“It’s best if we just forget it happened.”
Freya’s expression gave little away, and she held her chin high as she nodded. “I agree.”
My jaw twitched. It was what was best, but hearing her say it? Fuck, it didn’t feel good.
The rest of the meal went smoothly, with Ty coming over to say a quick goodbye , laughing with Freya's mother about the substantial purple stain spattered onto her knitted sweater.
I drove home quickly, my eyes continuing to catch Freya's. She looked beautiful tonight in her smart black pants and high-neck top, perfectly sculpting her hips and breasts. I’d caught myself staring on more than a few occasions, and I was going to have to get that under control. It just felt impossible to stop.
It was late by the time we arrived home, and I hadn't actually realised how long we’d been at the restaurant. After my mother had suggested dining there to celebrate, my throat had closed up and my stomach had tightened, remembering how much Brie loved the khao soi and the tiny after-dinner chocolates they gave us at the end of every meal. We hadn't visited since her death, but my mom was adamant that she would have wanted us to keep going and enjoying it. It was weird but somewhat comforting—as if Brie was there in the building with us. Bittersweet.
“Well, I’m drunk, and I have work tomorrow,” mumbled Sarah, pinching the bridge of her nose, causing my mom to agree. They both headed up the stairs, giggling together, leaving Freya and I eyeballing each other awkwardly.
“Do you have college tomorrow?” I questioned, trying to make conversation. That was the kind of thing a friend would ask a fellow friend, right? Because that was what we had to be. Friends.
“I do. First thing.”
“Have you seen Zach lately?”
“No, I don't think he wants to show up looking like he’s been trampled by rhinos.” Freya's lip held a hint of a smile.
Or maybe it had something to do with the fact that the college had been tipped off about his illegal extracurricular activities, but who was I to tell her that?
“You should get some sleep,” I told her as she yawned, and I watched with a frown as she reluctantly disappeared upstairs.
I got myself into bed a few minutes after her, stripping off and staring up at my ceiling. My body vibrated, my head refusing to settle down. I didn't know what it was, but it appeared to be a mixture of work, Freya and I agreeing that we needed to forget about our kiss, and the memory of Brie that was stopping me from falling asleep soundly.
My phone buzzed.
Brent: Invitations for the bodyguard ball have been emailed out. Who are you bringing?
I scrunched up my nose. The bodyguard ball was a celebration my organisation did every year to thank everyone for their hard work and service. I’d skipped the last one, coming up with a bunch of excuses why I couldn't make it, and my chief was less than impressed with my absence. I knew I had to attend this year.
Kaleb: I'm not bringing anyone. I just want to get it over with.
Brent: Other guys are bringing plus ones. I'm gonna bring the girl I met the other night at the party. Don’t be that guy that shows up without a date, Kaleb.
Kaleb: I'm not obligated to bring a date.
The ball was held in the same hotel every year. It was exquisite and flashy—a little too much for my taste—but my organisation claimed they wanted to provide us with only the best. It was at least a five-hour drive from here, and most people were put in the hotel for free since we were all coming from different places.
I didn't socialise much with people on my team—besides Brent—and the thought of doing so pissed me off. I didn't see the point. We were all there to do our jobs. Why chat meaningless shit for hours over delicate glasses of overpriced champagne? It was a waste of time.
I was tossing and turning in bed all night, getting tangled in the sheets and unable to sleep. A curse fell from my lips after I turned to look at my bedside table clock. Three in the fucking morning.
Pushing the covers off of me, I slowly and quietly made my way downstairs. When I couldn't sleep, I’d often head down to crash on the couch. I’d fall asleep pretty quickly, and I believed it had something to do with Brie's photos surrounding me—like a guardian angel.
Huffing, I pulled out a blanket from the cabinet, fumbling around in the dark for a cushion, resting my head on it as I squeezed myself onto the small couch. I barely fit, but it wasn’t as suffocating down here as my room felt.
I was almost asleep when I heard a door open, and I peered up towards the landing to see Freya, her form padding down the stairs. I remained completely still as I watched her, clutching an empty glass in her hands, heading for the kitchen to refill it.
My eyes could do nothing but linger on her. She was wearing the skimpiest little pyjama shorts—her ass peeking out the bottom of them. Her midriff was on show, revealing her flat and toned stomach, and she wore a tiny grey crop top, her breasts spilling out of the top of it. Her nipples were hard due to the sudden temperature change, and it caused a shudder to rattle my bones.
I wanted to say something—to alert her to my presence—but I didn't want to embarrass her for being caught in her tiny sleepwear.
Instead, I remained still and quiet on the couch, averting my eyes as she entered the kitchen, only to reappear a minute later with a full glass of water. As she ascended the stairs, I focused on the fraying cushion below me, hearing the click of her bedroom door closing. I pushed the blanket off me, suddenly extremely hot and bothered, my body tingling. After telling myself we would remain neutral, that outfit was the last thing I needed to see Freya in.
My frustration was boiling over, spilling out of my pores and tarnishing the couch I was lying on. Why the hell was it so hot? It felt like I was resting on a bed of hot coal, my skin slowly singeing. In displeasure, I tapped my fingers against the soft couch, my body twitchy and on edge,
Why couldn't I get her out of my head?
Damn it.
I wasn’t a weak man, but when it came to Freya, I was fucking powerless.
“Back again, boys?”
I cringed at the usual huskiness of Will’s voice, his smoker's lungs struggling with every word.
Brent grinned at him. “You know this is our favourite shooting spot in town.”
“It’s the only shooting spot in town. The next one is seven miles away.” Will chuckled, the sound grating. Brent took another shot, and Will watched him with dubious eyes before he turned his attention to me.
“He’s a good shooter,” he murmured, leaning up against the metal wall that separated us from another two men. “But not nearly as good as you.”
“I’ve had more practice.”
“Was bringing Freya here just a one-time thing, then?"
The question caused my nostrils to flare. He was using her name now?
Brent eyed us up at the mention of Freya, and I wanted to do nothing more than turn around and wrap my hand around Will’s throat for muttering it, but I took a deep breath to compose myself.
“She’s not really relevant,” I responded, trying to keep my tone neutral, but Will chuckled.
“Seems like someone has a crush.” He lit up another cigarette. “Nothing wrong with that.”
I remained silent, sipping on my drink.
“She was beautiful, Kaleb.” Will shrugged. “I can’t blame you.”
God, I’d pay good money to get him to shut the hell up. I despised the way he spoke about her.
He snickered, toying with his own gun that hung from his waistband. “That’s clearly a sensitive topic, so let’s change it.” He shot me a toothy grin. “When are you boys planning on leaving town again? I hope not anytime soon. It’s always quiet around here without you.”
I smiled—a very, very fake smile. “Still undecided. We’ve got some business to take care of, but we want to stick around for as long as possible.”
“Good. You fit in here.”
I mentally chuckled.
Not for long.