Chapter 10
TEN
Callum
Fifteen Years Old
I used to think that being hit by my own father was the worst kind of pain, but I was wrong.
Because I just watched another guy kiss Birdie’s lips, and now, I know for sure that this is the worst pain imaginable. At least with my father, I know I’ll be out of his house in a few years. I’ll never have to see that bastard again if I don’t want to.
But my situation with Birdie…She’s my closest friend. She has been since we were eight years old. We’ve practically grown up together. How could I possibly begin to tell her that I’m struggling to just be her friend?
How do I tell Birdie that the real reason Josie broke up with me is because I was spending too much time with her? When Josie asked me to stop hanging out with Birdie so much, I refused. I all but told her to fuck off, and that’s when she ended things.
Truthfully, breaking up with my first girlfriend didn’t hurt nearly as bad as I thought it would. But losing Birdie…I think that would end me. And that’s why I’m terrified to tell her how I really feel about her.
When I first met her, I remember thinking that her eyes were unique, a pretty shade of pale gray. But pretty feels like an offensively insufficient adjective to describe the rare, multi-faceted diamonds I see now when I look at her. I thought her hair was just a nice shade of blonde, but lately, I want to run my fingers through the golden strands to know if it feels as soft as it looks. I never used to focus on her lips, but recently, I can’t seem to stop looking at them whenever she speaks, tracing their flawless heart shape with my eyes when I wish it could be my tongue.
There are so many things about her that I see differently. I’ve been feeling these changes for a while, but everything changed when she started dating Mason.
I hate the guy. I absolutely fucking loathe Mason, almost as much as I hate my father. Not just because he has Birdie— and I don’t —but because he walks around like an arrogant prick. Something about him is off. I just can’t quite put my finger on it.
To make matters worse, I’m watching him spin Birdie around the dancefloor tonight. Or, watching him try, at least. The guy is a shit dancer.
It’s the Winter Formal at Myrtle Beach High School, the only dance that freshmen and sophomores can attend. I wish this event was only for upperclassmen because then Birdie wouldn't be here with him .
Mason is in eleventh grade, and he’s not the only junior to go after Birdie. Ever since freshman year started, she’s been receiving more attention than she’s used to. Birdie is drop-dead gorgeous, and she knows it—even if she won’t admit it. But I can tell that Mason makes her uncomfortable sometimes. I see her discomfort right now as he’s protectively holding her on the dance floor.
Birdie looks stunning, like a winter dream. She’s wearing a long, icy blue dress that sparkles with crystalline beads. Her sandy blonde hair is down in lazy curls that ripple like curtains when she moves. I think she sprayed glitter in her hair because each time the blue neon lights flash against the strands, they shimmer like a sea of stars. Her face is even dusted with sparkles across her cheeks and nose.
She looks like a real-life ice princess. When Birdie walked into the room tonight, she completely took all the air from my lungs.
I’m wearing a navy suit, one that I thought looked pretty nice. But it could never compare to the way Birdie looks tonight.
I flinch when I see Mason graze his hand down Birdie’s back, his fingers dangerously close to her ass. I clench my jaw and decide I can’t watch this for a second longer. I head for the punch table and pray that someone has spiked it.
No one spiked the punch.
After gulping down a few glasses, I still feel as sober as ever. I need to get the hell out of here.
I’ve danced with a few girls tonight, all of which I forced myself to get through. They probably thought I was uninterested or rude, and they would be right to think that because I couldn't keep my eyes off Birdie and Mason. I couldn't see much through the crowded dance floor, but each time I caught a glimpse of Mason’s arm wrapped tightly around Birdie’s waist, I wanted to ram my fist through a wall.
It’s later in the evening, and the DJ has switched from playing slow ballads to club music. I have no interest in staying for a grind fest, so I guess that’s my cue to go. I should have left hours ago because the one girl I want to dance with is already taken.
And now I’m thinking about what it might be like to have her grinding on me.
Jesus.
I shake the unholy thought from my head, slipping my arms through the sleeves of my suit jacket and head for the back door. When I step outside, the frigid wind blows against my cheeks. It’s fifty-seven degrees outside, which is pretty damn cold for Myrtle Beach. Light clouds cover the dark sky with patches of stars peeking through. The parking lot is lit by dim moonlight and flickering lamp posts outlining the asphalt.
My house is only a few blocks from where the dance is being held at the community center, so I decided to walk. There was no way in hell that I was going to ask my parents to drive me. Luckily, my father leaves early in the morning for a work trip, so he was in bed by the time I snuck out.
Right as I’m about to step from the parking lot to the sidewalk, I hear a sweet voice call out my name.
“Callum!” the voice bellows like a song. “Cal, wait!”
I spin around to find Birdie walking towards me, her blue dress casting shimmers against the dark asphalt and sea of cars. She’s like a disco ball, making everything around her look mesmerizing instead of gray and dull.
How did she know that I left? Was she watching me as closely as I was watching her?
The thought has my adrenaline spiking.
Still unable to comprehend how gorgeous she looks, I swallow down the lump in my throat and try to slow my breathing.
“Hey, Birdie,” I clear my throat. “What’s up? ”
She stops a few feet away from me, slightly out of breath.
“Where are you going?” she asks. “There’s still a couple of hours left until the dance ends.”
“Eh,” I shrug my shoulders. “I’m kind of over it. I don’t really think high school dances are my thing.”
Liar. That’s a lie.
I’m sure I’d be having a blast tonight if Birdie was the girl swaying in my arms.
“What about you?” I question. “Why aren’t you in there with your boyfriend?”
Her lips turn up in a knowing smirk at how the word “boyfriend” rolls off my tongue. Though I was trying to be subtle, I clearly just showed my cards, revealing every bit of jealousy I feel inside.
With a shit-eating grin still stretched across her face, she folds her arms over her chest and scoffs.
“Well,” she sighs, “I think I just broke up with him by kicking him in the nuts.”
My brows shoot up to my hairline as my jaw hangs open.
What the hell?
“You what ?” I blurt out in shock.
She chuckles at my surprise.
“After I asked him three times to stop grabbing my butt, he still didn’t stop. People were starting to stare, and it was making me uncomfortable. It was like he was trying to stake a claim over me or something,” she grumbles. “So when he did it a fourth time, I kneed him right in the balls.”
I tangle my hands in my hair and open my mouth wide in disbelief. I’ve never been so damn proud of her in my entire life. I’ve also never been more amused.
“Oh my God,” I exhale, half laughing as I pull at my curls. “That’s fucking awesome.”
She starts to chuckle, and our laughter creates a symphony that feels like home. I love laughing with Birdie. I’ve been laughing with her since we were in the third grade, and it’s still the most carefree experience I’ve ever had. It’s familiar and calming. Safe and peaceful.
“You missed it,” she adds. “Mason ran off the dance floor, whimpering and clutching his crotch. I think I actually saw a tear roll down his face. If he wanted attention, he definitely got it.”
I think I’m the one crying now. Crying with laughter as tears leak from the corners of my eyes.
“Shit, I hope somebody filmed that,” I pant, trying to catch my breath. “God, I love you, Birdie.”
As soon as the words leave my lips, a quiet void fills the space between us.
And then, the whole world seems to pause.
Birdie stops laughing, which in return makes me stop. Because if our laughter isn’t mixed together, it might as well be silence. A blank tune.
It’s then I realize that I’ve never told Birdie that I love her. Of course, it’s an unspoken sentiment between two best friends. But I’ve never uttered those three words to her, and she’s never said them to me. I guess I just assumed that we both always knew.
There’s no one in the world that I love more than Birdie Wren.
I open my mouth to provide clarification. To tell her that I meant to say I love her like a best friend. To not make things weird between us because I might die if I didn’t have Birdie in my life.
“Birdie, I–”
“I wanted to dance with you tonight,” she admits in a small, timid voice. My heart misses a few beats because all I want is a dance with Birdie .
She’s nervous. I can see it in the way she’s picking at the skin around her nails. For years, I’ve wondered if Birdie has feelings for me too. But even if she did, I think she would be just as afraid as me to ruin our friendship.
“You did?”
“Yeah,” she nods. “I did.”
I swallow thickly at her response.
“Well…” I start awkwardly. “I think we missed our chance. Unless you want me to embarrass you with my one dance move—a fist pump,” I joke.
She laughs and rolls her eyes.
“As hilarious as that visual sounds, I wanted a real dance with you.”
The air between us grows heavy, and our smiles fade to something more serious.
“Me too, Birdie,” I admit. “I wanted that too.”
“So then dance with me,” she responds without missing a beat. “Right here.”
I furrow my brows in confusion as my palms grow sweaty.
“Right here?” I repeat. “Like in the parking lot?”
She looks around before returning her gaze back to me.
“Yeah, why not?” she shrugs. “No one else is out here.”
I wouldn't care if anyone else was out here. Hell, I would want everyone to see me dancing with Birdie.
“Okay,” I rasp, pulling my phone from my suit jacket and pulling up my playlist. “What song do you want to dance to?”
“You pick,” she mutters, barely able to contain her giddy smile.
I stare down at my phone, my thumb trembling over the bright screen as I contemplate whether to play it safe or take a risk.
Fuck it .
I’m playing a song that always makes me think of Birdie. It might as well be her song.
The iconic beat of My Girl by The Temptations starts flowing through the shitty phone speaker as I bend down and place it on the curb. When I stand up and meet Birdie’s eyes, she’s grinning from ear to ear.
God, I love that smile more than anything.
“May I have this dance?” I ask, my tone gravelly as I hold my hand out to her.
She nods and places her palm in mine.
Still holding her hand, I wrap my free arm around her waist, and she folds hers around my neck. We’re so close that our breaths mingle in the night air, providing a bit of warmth from the cold.
Birdie’s lip quivers, and then I realize she’s not wearing a jacket. I feel like a jackass for not immediately offering her mine.
I release her hand and quickly step back, causing her face to fall with disappointment.
“Cal–”
“Here,” I rush out, slipping my arms from the sleeves of my suit. “Take my jacket.”
Her eyes soften as I hand her my coat.
“Oh, uh…” she stammers. “Are you sure? Won’t you be cold?”
“I’ll be fine,” I assure her, my lips curving up in an easy smile.
“Thank you,” she shivers, quickly sliding her arms into the oversized sleeves.
Anything for you. Anything.
When I pull Birdie back in, she wraps her arms around my neck, and I hold her waist in both of my arms.
I’m holding Birdie .
Not just hugging her or being there for her when she’s sad. I’m actually holding her. Swaying back and forth with my girl in my arms.
I never want to let her go. Her heart beating against mine is the safest, most secure I’ve ever felt in my entire life. Since the day I met her, Birdie has been my lighthouse. My harbor in the middle of a howling storm.
The cloud-covered moon sparkles against the glitter in her hair—hair that always smells like coconut and citrus.
“You look pretty, Birdie,” I finally confess, breaking our quiet bubble. “Really pretty.”
Her long eyelashes flutter, and her cheeks turn pink.
“Thank you,” she grins up at me. “You look pretty, too—I mean, handsome,” she corrects herself while shaking her head.
“Hey,” I chuckle, “if I look as pretty as you do tonight, that’s a compliment in my book.”
Her skin flushes to a deep crimson as she chews on her bottom lip. She diverts her eyes, looking down at her dress before meeting my gaze again.
Christ, she has the most mesmerizing eyes. Swirls of silver, gray, and blue.
“What made you pick this song?” she utters hesitantly.
“You don’t like it?”
“No,” she retorts. “I love it. But out of a million songs, why this one?”
My eyes flick between hers as my chest heaves up and down with heavy breaths. She holds my gaze, patiently waiting for my response.
Grow some balls, Callum. You’re fifteen now. You’re in high school. Stop being a damn chicken.
Just say it.
“Because you’re my girl, Birdie,” I confess. “You have been since we were little kids. No matter where life takes us, you’ll always be my girl. My Birdie Wren. And I’ll always be here for you. I hope you know that.”
Her chin quivers, and I don’t think it’s from the cold this time.
“You promise?” she asks, her voice as light as a feather. “That you’ll always be here? No matter what?”
I nod before leaning down and pressing my forehead to hers.
“I promise, Birdie,” I whisper. Our lips feel too close for two best friends.
“Because I don’t know what I would do without you, Cal,” she adds, pain evident in her tone. “I would be lost without you. You’re like the other half of me.”
You’re like the other half of me.
How do I begin to tell her that she’s all of me?
“I promise,” I assure her before taking her face between my palms, the glitter from her cheeks spreading along my fingers. “I will always be here for you, Birdie. Always .”
She stands on her tiptoes, tightens her arms around my neck, and buries her face in the space between my head and shoulders.
I never want her to let go.
I really meant it, what I said earlier… I love Birdie Wren with all of my heart.
I will love her until the day I die.