Chapter 9 Callan
CALLAN
“Hurry up, Pixie. If you’re late for your first ballet class, Ma will kick my arse,” I say as I open the passenger door of my truck for my little sister.
“No need to get your knickers in a twist, Cal. It’s right there.
” She points through the windscreen at the building in front of us.
The dance studio is on the main street, sandwiched between an estate agent’s office and a stationery shop.
“I won’t be late.” She rolls her eyes before grabbing her bag.
I lift her out of the cab and set her feet carefully on the ground. “You still have to put your ballet shoes on,” I remind her, closing the door and locking the truck. I take her hand, guiding her toward the entrance to the dance studio.
“That won’t take long. Boys,” she mutters, rolling her eyes again, and I chuckle.
A few other girls are walking through the door as we reach it, and I don’t miss the way their mums stare at me. The attention at school and around town is starting to make me feel uncomfortable.
“Erin!” A high-pitched shriek almost bursts my eardrums as Freja races across the waiting area in a blur of gangly legs and glistening blonde hair.
Like Erin, she’s wearing a leotard and tights, and her hair is pulled up into a tight bun.
Freja throws herself at Erin as my head lifts and I spot Astrid approaching, wearing skinny jeans, a pale pink T-shirt, and runners, sporting an amused smile.
“Hey, Callan.”
“Hey, Astrid. I didn’t know you’d be here.
” I’m wondering if Ma lied when she said she had to stay at the house for a delivery.
Dad was sanding the wooden boards on the porch, so she asked me to drive Erin to her first ballet and swimming classes.
She must’ve known Freja would be here, and it’s possible she knew Astrid would be too.
My parents really need to learn to stop meddling with my life.
Our sisters have their heads bent, whispering to one another.
“My parents work Saturday mornings, so I always take Freja to ballet and swimming,” Astrid says, confirming my suspicions.
“Is Alma with you?” I glance around the small lobby for the youngest Nevan sister, but I don’t see her.
“No.” Astrid tucks her hair behind her ears. “She goes to her friend’s house for a playdate every Saturday morning. Mom closes the studio at one, so she can pick her up, and then I drop Freja off before my shift starts.”
“This way!” Freja loops her arm through Erin’s, gesturing with her head toward the changing room.
“You okay, Pixie?” I ask before her friend can drag her away.
“You can go, Cal. I’m grand. See you later.” Erin waves and grins before the girls disappear through the door to the changing area.
Astrid’s light laughter does weird things to my chest. “Don’t worry. Freja knows the ropes. She’ll take care of her.”
“Erin has not shut up about Freja and Alma since last weekend,” I admit while opening the front door, stepping aside to let Astrid exit first.
She beams at me, but I’ve no clue why. “Oh, trust me, it’s been the same in our house. My sisters are so excited to have a new best friend across the street.”
We step to the side of the door once outside on the footpath. A few of the mums glance at us before they walk off, and I despise the attention.
“I usually go to the coffee shop and study for the hour,” Astrid adds, peering up at me. “You’re welcome to join me if you like.”
I was planning to go to the gym, but I can go later. I know if I show up at the house, Ma will rope me into helping with the porch remodeling, so killing an extra few hours suits me.
At least that’s what I’m telling myself.
“I could use a coffee, studying not so much.”
She grins, hiking her backpack over her shoulder. Without hesitation, I swipe her bag and sling it over my shoulder before she can protest. “This is fucking heavy. You hiding a dead body, Astrid?”
She giggles. “Just a lot of books.”
“If I get arrested as an accessory to murder, I’m denying all knowledge,” I quip as we set off walking.
“You’re safe. No arrests are imminent.”
“Good to know.” I keep pace with her, arching a brow when we pass by the door to Joey’s. “Isn’t that where all the seniors hang out?” I was at the diner with a few of the guys from the team on Wednesday after school, and I’m sure Astrid already mentioned it to me.
“Yep, which is exactly why I avoid it on Saturday mornings when I’m trying to get some studying done.
It’s far too noisy, and people wouldn’t leave me in peace.
The coffee shop is a lot quieter, and they have the best coffee in town.
” She stops, dragging me off to the side so we’re not interrupting the flow of foot traffic.
“But it’s cool if you want to go in. I don’t mind.
I can catch up on studying tonight after work. ”
“You had me at ‘best coffee.’ Let’s go.”
We resume walking. “It’s only around the corner,” she supplies.
“You aren’t going to Thor’s party tonight?” I ask, registering her comment about studying later tonight.
“I wasn’t planning to, but Gwen’s already blowing up my phone, so I’m currently fifty-fifty.”
“Please come. It would be good to have a friend there who isn’t a jock.” Ma would be cracking a smug grin right now if she heard me.
“I’ll consider it,” she says, pushing through the door of a quaint little coffee shop.
“Hey Beryl,” Astrid calls out, waving at the older woman behind the counter.
“Your usual table is reserved for you,” she says, before turning her attention to me. “Welcome to Cake and Coffee.”
“Thanks.” I trail Astrid as she makes a beeline for a small table tucked in a corner at the back of the small but cozy room.
“Hey, sweetie,” another older lady says, appearing at our table holding a pad and pen. “The usual, Astrid?”
“Please,” she confirms, taking her bag from my shoulder and shoving it under the table.
“I’m Esther.” The waitress smiles kindly at me. “Might you be the new soccer player my freshman son has been raving about since yesterday’s game?”
“Wow, it’s that obvious?” I slide onto the wooden chair across the table from my pretty neighbor.
“It’s a small town. Word spreads fast.”
“I’m beginning to understand that, and yes, I’m Callan Hunt.”
“Well, Callan Hunt, your first order is on the house. What can I get you?”
“Just a black coffee, please.”
She blinks, staring at me like she must not have heard me correctly, and I have an awful feeling I might have just offended her. “Ummm.” I smooth a hand across the back of my neck.
“They have oatmeal or yogurt, berries, and granola, or they have salad,” Astrid informs me. It’s sweet of her, but I’ve already eaten breakfast, and I have a protein drink and a banana in the truck for before my workout, so I really don’t want to eat anything right now.
Astrid takes charge, smiling at the older woman. “He’ll take a slice of maple cake too. Thanks, Esther.”
Seemingly satisfied, she walks off to place our order.
“Don’t worry.” Astrid lowers her voice, leaning across the table. “I’ll eat your slice when she’s not looking.”
A laugh tumbles from my mouth. “I think you have a devious streak.”
“When it comes to maple cake? Always.” She waggles her brows and grins.
“Thanks. I didn’t want to offend her.”
“It’s cool. I heard what your mom said on Sunday, and I know you’re careful about what you eat. You only eat plain meat, rice, and vegetables or salad and fruit at school.”
I arch a brow, and my lips twitch.
Her cheeks stain red. “Fuck. That sounds really stalkerish. I promise it’s not. It’s just most of the guys on the soccer team don’t care about what they eat, so it stands out when someone is focused on nutrition. Anyway…” She bites on the corner of her lip. “Shutting up now.”
“I’m only teasing. You did warn me you were observant.”
“The other guys on the team could learn a lot from you, and after yesterday, I’m betting they are all ears.”
The smile on my face is instantaneous. I’m still floating on the high of our victory. It felt good. Real good. “You heard about our win?”
“I was at the game. You were amazing, Callan. I know it probably doesn’t mean much when I know so little about soccer, but I don’t think it matters where in the world you play. There is no way you won’t get noticed. You are too talented not to be discovered.”
If only it was that simple. “Thanks. You should’ve told me you’d be there.”
“Why? What difference would it have made?”
Valid question, and now it’s my turn to sport reddening cheeks. I shrug, trying to play it cool. “I didn’t think anyone was there for me. Not that I mean to imply you were there for me or anything.” Oh my fucking god. Why did I just blurt that stupid shit? Ground: open and swallow me, please.
“I was there to support you and Thor,” she replies. “By the way, that attendance yesterday was not normal. At least half those people were there to watch you, so, trust me, you had plenty of support.”
“My parents used to come to all my games back home.” It seems there is no end to my verbal diarrhea. I don’t do this, but there is just something about Astrid that makes me want to tell her things.
“They didn’t want to come yesterday?” Her brow puckers before smoothing out when Esther returns with our coffees and cake. We stop talking, waiting until after she’s left to resume our conversation.
“I didn’t tell them,” I sheepishly admit before lifting the mug to my nose and inhaling the nutty, smoky aroma.
“How come?” She takes a sip of her cappuccino.
“I’m still not speaking to my da, and I know if I told mum she’d tell him, so I decided not to tell either of them. They were both really mad at me this morning, Erin too, when they realized they’d missed my first match.”
“Oh, I see.” Compassion splays in her gorgeous green eyes.
“To be honest, I feel kinda shitty about it, and it backfired because when I came out on the field, I missed them, which is crazy when I got such a warm welcome from the crowd.”
“It’s not the same though, right?”
I slowly nod. “Yeah, it’s not. Which is why it would’ve been nice to know I at least had one friend sitting on the bleachers. You’ll need to tell me next time.”
“How about this?” She stabs her cake with her fork before lifting her eyes to meet mine. “I will be at every game, match, from now on, unless you hear otherwise from me.”
Warmth floods my chest. “Cool.” My gaze lingers on her lips as I watch her lift the fork to her mouth, slide a piece of the luscious cake inside, and chew. Her eyes close briefly, and her face softens dreamily before a little whimper escapes her lips.
My dick stirs in my boxers, and holy fucking shit, am I getting turned on watching a girl eat a slice of cake?
I’m seriously beginning to worry about myself.
The last thing I should be doing is voluntarily spending time with Astrid Nevan because the girl is eliciting reactions from me I’ve never felt for any girl before, and I barely even know her.
But wild horses couldn’t drag me away from this coffee shop right now. I’m exactly where I want to be, even if it’s breaking all my self-imposed rules.