Chapter 12
TWELVE
Birdie
Seventeen Years Old
Our bare feet slap against the hard sand as Callum and I charge against the setting sun. Cal loves to go for runs because it helps him stay in shape for tennis, and I come along because I simply love spending time with him. The humidity is killer today, causing my tank top and workout shorts to stick to my skin like honey.
We started running together a few years ago, which became a weekly ritual for us. We usually begin thirty minutes before sunset and jog until it gets dark. Sometimes, our runs are slow and steady. And other times, we get competitive and race each other.
But tonight is one of those leisurely nights. I can tell Callum has something heavy on his mind by his lack of words. I always know when something is off with Cal, just like he automatically senses when something is bothering me.
It’s not out of the ordinary for us to spend a lot of time together, but we’ve been inseparable lately. Any time Cal’s not in class or at tennis practice, he’s with me. And if I’m not studying or helping out at my parents’ coffee shop, I’m with him.
When I say that we’ve never been closer, I mean that in every way.
Last week, I was blindsided when a girl at school that I barely knew asked me if Callum was my boyfriend. And that’s when it really hit me that our feelings for one another are blatantly obvious.
We couldn't hide it if we tried.
What we feel for each other is much stronger than friendship, and I think we’re finally coming to terms with that. But we’re scared to put our feelings into words on the off-chance that one of us doesn't feel the same. I would rather have Callum as my best friend than not have him at all.
But they say that actions speak louder than words, and when we’re together, it’s like we can’t get enough of each other. Callum is always finding little ways to touch me.
He holds my hand, which is something we’ve done since we were little kids, but now he brushes his thumb in tingling sweeps against my skin. He’s touched me at least a million times, but it still sends warm shivers down my spine. When he kisses me on the forehead or cheek, his lips linger longer than they used to. Instead of staring into my eyes when we have a conversation, his gaze drifts down to my mouth. He intently watches my lips move, like he would die for just one chance to kiss them.
He gets all moody and jealous if another guy texts or flirts with me. And every girl at school could be staring starry-eyed at Callum, but he’s only ever looking at me, intently gazing down at me like I hung the moon.
Last weekend, he showed up to my house before the sun came up. Even though I was still asleep when he arrived, he waited to see me. When I finally woke up, he was sitting on the front porch with my dad, sipping a cup of coffee. I sneakily took a picture of the two of them on my phone before I made my presence known. It was a beautiful moment, starring two of my favorite humans.
When I asked Cal why he came over so early, he replied, “Because I couldn't wait to see you, Birdie. It’s all I could think about last night.”
I didn’t think my heart would recover after that morning.
There was something so sublime about Callum’s need to see me. But seeing him enjoying a cup of coffee with my dad was even more special. Nothing means more to my dad than sitting on the front porch with good company while enjoying a cup of joe.
It will forever be one of the sweetest mornings.
I’ve been infatuated with Callum Pierce since I was eight years old. Enamored by his heart, smile, patience, humor, and undying friendship. Everything about him consumes me.
And for the first time, I’m starting to think that he might be just as obsessed with me.
Right as the sun turns in for the night and the sky dims from lilac to dark blue, Callum stops running. I follow suit, slowing my feet until I’m standing beside him. He lifts his arms, threads his fingers behind his head, and tries to catch his breath.
The short sleeves of his T-shirt bunch up around his shoulders, and I can’t help but ogle at the cords of muscles stretching along his biceps. With his shirt raised, a tan sliver of his flat stomach peeks out below the cotton. A dark patch of hair trails from his navel, disappearing beneath his shorts. I lower my gaze when I feel my cheeks heat, trying like hell not to think about what lies beneath Callum’s clothes .
I bend over and place my hands on my knees, breathing heavily as my heart rate begins to even out.
“You good?” Callum pants, placing a warm hand on my back.
A spark shoots down my spine where his fingers are touching me.
“Yeah,” I exhale. I lift my head and flash him a soft smile.
“Let’s sit,” he mutters as his hand slips from my body. “Take a breather.”
We both take a seat in the sand and stare out at the dark sea. Soft waves roll in, acting as white noise and filling the silent space between us. We just sit there—less than a foot apart, not speaking as our minds run wild with unspoken thoughts.
There are many types of silences. There’s angry silence, awkward silence, comfortable silence, and so on. But this stillness between us feels heavy. It feels uncomfortable and inevitable, as if the noise can’t be suppressed much longer.
When I can’t take the quiet any longer, I decide to bring up something we’re both comfortable discussing.
“You played great last night,” I murmur, referring to his tennis match. “The other team didn’t stand a chance.”
Callum started playing tennis in middle school and became obsessed with the sport when the coach saw a natural talent in him. Now, he’s a junior and one of the best athletes on the Myrtle Beach High School tennis team. Last year, he won the Most Valuable Player award at the men’s championship tournament. I watched with a wide grin stretched across my face as he retrieved his trophy, more proud of him than he was of himself. I do my best to be there for all his matches, especially since his parents haven't shown up to one.
I know almost everything about Callum except for the dynamics of his home life. He says his parents work a lot, but I know something else is going on. I can just feel it.
But I can’t ask Cal about his parents without him shutting down or ignoring the question altogether. I just don’t understand why they are so absent in his life. He’s such an amazing person, and it breaks my heart that his parents don’t see how hard he works.
“Thanks,” he replies, scooting next to me until his shoulder brushes mine. “It means a lot to me, you know? That you always show up for me.”
“Of course,” I beam, smiling up at him. “I love watching you play. You’ve worked incredibly hard, and it shows. I’m proud of you, Cal.”
His cobalt eyes dart between mine before flicking down to my lips.
“I love you, Birdie.”
My heart.
“I love you too,” I reply without missing a beat.
He always tells me this, and to others, it may seem weird. But for us, it’s like our second language.
Even if Callum and I end up going our separate ways and living across the country from one another, we will always love each other. There’s no question about that. We love each other in a way that transcends a romantic relationship.
I love Callum Pierce in the blood-deep, loyal way that you love a person who is family. I love him like two best friends who are old and gray, smiling next to each other because their friendship withstood the test of time. I love him like the sun loves the moon, constantly in orbit, chasing one another like two magnets.
My love for Callum runs deep in my bones, unending and never changing.
He is my one constant in life. And I’m his .
People may think it’s odd that we say “I love you” so often, but to us, it’s like the breath in our lungs. I need Callum to know that I love him like I need to breathe. I need him to know I will always be here for him, just like he promised me.
Callum inhales sharply while tilting his head up to the sky. When his gaze lowers to mine, his eyes fill with a sea of emotions: fear, anticipation, excitement, and hope.
“Birdie…” he stammers. “I need to talk to you about something.”
My stomach flips with nerves at the seriousness in his tone.
“Okay,” I whisper hesitantly, barely able to hear my voice over the ocean waves.
He reaches out and tucks a windblown strand of hair behind my ear, adding butterflies to the thunderstorm in my belly.
“I’ve wanted to talk to you about this for a while,” he continues. “And I’m sure you already know what I’m about to say. Honestly, I should have told you months ago. But I’m scared, Birdie. This will change things between us. And that scares the shit out of me.”
Oh my God. Are we finally about to have this conversation?
A line of unease forms between his brows. My heart drums against my chest, and my hands grow sweaty as I ponder my next words. I want to ease his worries. I want him to know that I feel the exact same way.
“You know what scares me?” I mutter, our eyes locked together.
“What?”
“Graduating next year and never telling you how I feel,” I admit. “It terrifies me to think about us going off to college and leaving things unsaid. You’re my best friend, Cal. And nothing you say will change that. I’m sure whatever you feel, it’s the same for me. So please, just tell me. ”
He swallows thickly and nods. His beautiful, dark curls blow in the salty breeze.
“I don’t want to be your friend anymore, Birdie,” he starts. “I’m tired of going to school and watching every dickhead guy think that they have a chance with you. I’m tired of people thinking that I’m just your best bud . It’s exhausting to try to look into your eyes when I really want to watch your lips move. It drives me mad to see other guys ask you on dates when I want to be the one taking you out. Instead of sitting next to you when we watch a movie, I want to put my arm around your waist and pull you into my lap. I want to know what it’s like to really hold you. I want to know what it’s like to be more than just your best friend. And selfishly, I want everyone else to know that you—Birdie Wren—are mine. But if being your friend is all you’ll let me have, I’ll gladly take it. I just need to let you know that I want more. I want so much more with you.”
I want everyone else to know that you—Birdie Wren—are mine.
Inhale. Exhale. Inhale. Exhale.
I have to remind myself to breathe after his confession. Because it’s all that I’ve ever wanted to hear. Too good to be true.
He was right; I knew exactly what he was going to say because I resonated with every word. But to hear the words finally come from his lips is like a fever dream. My cheeks heat as I turn my body to face his. Instead of fighting it, I let my eyes roam across his chiseled face.
“I’ve been wanting to tell you something, too,” I breathe.
He reaches for my legs, placing my calves on top of his thighs. His fingers lightly graze up and down my skin as he holds my stare. I can barely focus with his rough hands caressing my thighs.
“Tell me, Birdie,” he whispers .
He continues rubbing my legs as a beat of silence passes between us.
“One of the worst days I can remember is finding out that you asked Josie to be your girlfriend,” I mutter. “That was the first time I realized my feelings for you had changed. You looked so happy with her, and it killed me. Which is awful because I should have been happy for you. And when she broke up with you…I was so relieved. I didn’t want to admit it, but I was so glad to have you back. For you to fully be mine again. And after that day, I hoped and prayed that I’d never have to see you with another girl again. I used to think it was because I was selfish—a terrible friend. But now I know it’s because friendship doesn't feel like enough with you anymore. So, in case you’re wondering…I want more, too, Callum. I’ve wanted more for a long time.”
His lips turn up in a wide smile as his eyes gloss over with emotion. We hold each other’s stare, quietly soaking in the meaning behind our words.
“You know that no one has ever told me that?” he admits in a gravelly tone. “That they want me? That they love me? Not even my own parents. Just you, Birdie.”
My stomach drops at the somber confession about his parents. How could anyone not love Callum?
“What about Josie?”
“She just wanted a boyfriend,” he replies. “I don’t think she really wanted me .”
I lift a hand to his face and trail my fingers along his jaw before threading them through his thick hair. I lower his forehead to mine and speak against his lips, so close that our mouths brush with each word.
“Well, I want you, Callum Pierce,” I whisper. “I want all of you. Everything that you’ll give me.”
His breath hitches before he pushes out his bottom lip far enough to sweep against mine faintly. A warm feeling settles low in my belly.
“I have one more question to ask you,” he says hazily, nuzzling his nose against mine.
“Yes?” I hum, loving the way his curls feel between my fingers.
“Can I kiss you, Birdie Wren?”
Millions of little fireworks erupt in my stomach.
Instead of using my words, I lift up on my knees and crush my lips to his.
I can’t hide the whimper that slips past my throat as our mouths connect. Our very first kiss.
I’ve wanted this for so long. I’ve dreamt about this very moment...
And it’s finally happening.
It’s so beyond what I could have ever imagined.
His mouth is pliant and warm against mine, the most perfect feeling in the world.
Callum kisses my top lip, then the bottom, before wrapping his arms around my waist and pulling me into his lap. Without breaking our kiss, I curl my free arm around his shoulder, tugging him impossibly closer until we’re chest to chest. Our hearts beat in tandem, dancing to the same beat.
God, it feels so good to be connected to him like this. To feel his firm chest rising and falling against mine. To feel his muscular arms holding me tightly, like I might disappear into thin air if he were to let go.
We’re both clinging to each other, hoping this is reality and not a fever dream.
Callum Pierce is kissing me.
My best friend—the first boy who ever made my heart skip a beat—is kissing me. He’s holding me in his arms and kissing me like they do in the movies .
“God, Birdie,” he mumbles against my mouth. “I could never get tired of this.”
Before I have a chance to breathe, he dips his head again and surprises me by parting my lips with his tongue. Every nerve in my body tingles with awareness as he licks inside my mouth.
As if we’ve done this a thousand times, my tongue brushes against his like it’s the most natural thing in the world. I angle my head, giving him deeper access as we take our time exploring with our lips, teeth, and tongues. We grow more comfortable by the second, switching between nibbling and sucking on each other’s lips.
I can’t help but tangle my fingers in his hair when he drags his mouth down to my neck and suctions his lips around my fluttering pulse point. He maps hungry, opened-mouthed kisses along my neck and collarbone that have me pulling at his thick curls. He makes a deep, gravelly noise when I tug on his hair, urging me to keep doing it.
When I whimper, he groans. Our needy sounds make me feel things I’ve never felt before. My lower belly swirls with heat, and my breasts feel heavy against his chest.
Obviously, this kiss is overdue because we can’t stop. We’re letting out feelings that we’ve kept pent up for years.
We kiss until our lips are sore and swollen. It feels like we’ve been sitting on the beach for hours, rotating between soft, intimate kisses and full-blown making out. It’s like we can’t pause; both of us mesmerized and addicted to this new feeling.
When we finally break apart for air, the dark sky is lit by a full moon. Callum presses a featherlight kiss to my lower lip before cupping my face between his palms.
“Birdie,” he pants, shaking his head. “I don’t think I can ever stop kissing you. ”
Moonlight glistens against his wet, puffy lips. Lips that I’m already dying to kiss again.
I love seeing this side of him. He’s so sexy like this.
“Then don’t.”
I put him out of his misery by sealing my lips to his.
I push him back until his spine thumps against the sand. With me on top of him, we kiss for hours, absolutely starved for one another.
I’m not sure when we fell asleep, but I woke up in Callum’s arms to the sun's golden hue peeking over the horizon.
I woke up to a new day where Callum wasn't just my friend but the keeper of my soul. His name forever tattooed on the flesh of my beating heart.
Who would’ve known that the boy who stole my heart at eight years old would rip open my chest and replace it with his almost ten years later?