3. Callie
3
CALLIE
My sister and her dumb dog are waiting outside the store when I get off work.
I wish I could say I was happy to see them, but I’m not. I’m tired, and that dog ate the handle of my only hairbrush, so I’m pissed at him.
“What do you want, Glory Bell?”
“Gee, happy to see you too, Sis.”
I arch a brow. I know she wants something. When I fold my arms and stare her down, she sighs and rolls her eyes.
“Ugh, fine. Mom said you’d take us to the pier.”
I raise both brows and tilt my head, and she sighs louder.
“ Ugh , you’re the worst. Mom said to ask you if you’d take us to the pier, and, Callie, Mom said I can’t go unless you agree to go so please take us to the pier.”
I release a sigh of my own. There it is.
“I’m tired, Glor. This is like my fifth day of doubles, and I haven’t had a break. I don’t want to go to the pier with you and your dumb dog.”
“Don’t call Torren King dumb. He’s not. It’s your fault for leaving your hairbrush where he could reach it.”
“It was on my dresser, and please don’t start calling your dog by a full name. That’s psychotic.”
She shrugs. “Whatever. He answers better to Torren King, so I’m calling him Torren King. ”
“Glory...”
“Callie, please . Aleck broke up with me, and now he’s at the pier with Lulu Stone-Meyers, and I hate that girl. Remember her? She’s the one who told everyone when I got my period and stuck pads to my locker. She’s horrible, and he’s doing this to make me jealous, so I want to show up and flirt with one of his guy friends. Please, Callie. Please. I’ll never be able to show my face at school if I don’t do this. I need to assert dominance. I need to remind him he’s a beta.”
I choke out a laugh and open my mouth to tell her what a dumb plan that is, but then my phone buzzes in my back pocket, and my shoulders fall. I already know what it will say before I look at it, and from the way Glory’s smile perks up, so does she.
Mom
Please take her to the pier love mom
I put my phone away and pinch the bridge of my nose. “I don’t have a change of clothes.”
I don’t want to go to the pier in khaki shorts and my red, store button-down. I look ridiculous. It’s got CLERK stitched into the front pocket, for Christ’s sake. Glory snorts.
“Literally no one will be looking at you, Calla Lily.”
“Gee, thanks.”
She giggles and starts to walk toward the pier. Reluctantly, I follow.
The whole walk, she chatters about Aleck and this Lulu chick. The more she talks, the more I get on board with this plan of hers. Because fuck Aleck, and I’m not just saying that because he called me a bitch when I made him get out from under Glory’s bed and go home. He really is a little asshole. By the time we get to the pier, I’m scanning bodies for him like a hitman looking for the kill shot. I can’t wait to watch Glory Bell humiliate him.
“There they are,” Glor says, pointing to a bench next to an ice cream cart.
Sure enough, there he is, sucking face with Lulu, a group of his friends standing about in a cluster around them. I glance at Glory, worried I’ll see hurt in her eyes, but all I see is rage.
“Pretty sure he was talking to her before he dumped me,” she whispers, and then my rage matches hers. “Will you take Torren King? I’m going in. Oh, can I borrow five dollars?”
I sigh, but I don’t argue. I give her five dollars and exchange it for the mutt’s leash. I give him a side-eye as Glory walks away.
“You better behave, dog.” He blinks up at me innocently. “Don’t pretend you’re an angel. You ate my hairbrush and my sneaker.”
When he looks away, I scoff. Fake contrition from a dog.
Laughter draws my gaze back up, and I find my sister licking an ice cream cone in the middle of the cluster of Aleck’s friends. She’s peering up at one of them, batting her eyelashes and giggling, and the boy is entranced. I smirk when I realize just who she’s flirting with. Aleck’s cousin and best friend, Parker.
Damn, Glory Bell is vicious. I’m proud. She’s way more daring than I am. One flick of my gaze toward Aleck and I can tell her plan is working. He is fuming . I have to bite my lip to keep from laughing outright.
I’m so focused on the masterfully executed revenge plan in front of me that I’m momentarily shocked when the dog barks and takes off running, ripping the leash from my hands.
“King!” Glory yells and takes off running after him, so I follow. “King! Torren King, get back here!”
I’m wearing sneakers, not ridiculous platform flip-flops like Glory has on, so it doesn’t take long for me to catch up to her.
“I’ll get him,” I pant out. “Stay here before you break your ankle.”
Then I hustle after the damn dog. I weave in and out of bodies, once almost taking out a clown juggling bowling pins, but I don’t take my eyes off the dog. My only saving grace is that the crowd is slowing him down, too.
“King,” I shout after him breathlessly. “Someone stop that dog! King, come back!”
Goddamn this stupid fucking dog. I haven’t run in years. I haven’t run this far this fast since gym class in high school. I am very, very out of shape. I feel like I might die. Death by cardio will be in my obituary.
“Torren King,” I screech, my words coming out in spurts. “Goddamn it, come back here!”
His fluffy black butt rounds a corner, so I barrel forward after him.
“Torren Kin?— ”
My words cut off when I crash into something hard, like a thin mattress on a brick wall, and my breath is sucked from my chest on impact. My vision blacks out, and I fall backward, barely recognizing the sound of clattering glass and splashing before I’m landing roughly against something warm and firm. My hands clutch fabric and muscle, and I gasp for air, getting a lungful of tobacco and leather.
It doesn’t register right away.
Not until the hint of ginger follows, and then my eyes are springing open, and I find my shocked reflection mirrored back at me in a pair of aviator sunglasses shaded under a black baseball cap. In the reflection, I watch as tattooed fingers brush my hair off my face and tuck strands behind my ears. The silver rings glint in the sunlight.
My breath is gone again.
“You alright?”
I blink. My chest burns, needing more oxygen, but I can’t...I can’t...
“Breathe,” he says, and I obey immediately.
I gasp, pulling in more of his familiar scent, hating it but needing it to survive. Sweat drips from my hairline and down my temples. It stings my eyes. I’m hot, but cold, and sticky with sweat.
“That’s it. There you go. Just breathe. You’re okay.”
I close my eyes again and gulp back more air, wincing around the sound of my frantic heart pounding inside my head. The whole time, I will myself to disappear.
This is a dream. I wiped out and was knocked unconscious, and this is a dream. This is not real. This is absolutely, completely, a dream.
“You’re okay. Just relax. Just breathe.”
Damn it.
That voice is very, very real.
When the sounds of chatter get louder, then laughter, then someone says, you need to step back , I force myself to open my eyes. Confirmation that my most mortifying nightmare has come to reality.
“Shit.” It slips from my mouth in a whisper, but he smiles, letting me know he heard it.
“Can you stand?”
I try, but nausea hits me hard, and my legs give out. God, I’m so freaking tired. I think my shock has used up the last of my energy stores. My body will shut down now. Not death by cardio. Death by Torren King. How poetic.
I close my eyes once more.
“It’s cool. We can stay here for a minute.” His voice switches from low and close, to louder and more distant. Like he’s looking away from me, talking to someone else. “Hey, can you get some water and ibuprofen? Maybe some ice? I don’t think she hit her head, but she’s pretty rattled.”
I groan and slowly bring my hand to my temple. “I feel like I was hit by a bus.”
“Not quite, but close. Damon’s not far off.”
I furrow my brow and pop one eye open, allowing myself to look at his ear so I don’t have to see how pathetic I look in his sunglasses.
“Damon?”
“Yeah... He, um, well, he kind of stepped in your path...on purpose.”
I pop open my other eye. “What? Why?”
His lips curl into a smirk. “I mean, you were screaming my name and chasing after me. He’s my security. It was either lay you out or taze you.”
I groan again and push myself up slowly to a sitting position, so I’m no longer lying sprawled out in Torren King’s—the rock star, not the dog—lap. What the actual fuck is my life.
“I wasn’t screaming your name,” I explain. “I was screaming the dog’s name.” I drop my head into my hands. “I feel like I might throw up.”
A hand rests on my back and rubs up and down.
“Here. Drink this.” A cool glass of water is offered to me, and I take it and gulp it down. “The dog?”
I nod. “Yeah. My sister’s dog. He’s black and shaggy and has green eyes. She named him Torren King. I told her not to—it’s a horrible name for a dog—but he answers to it now.”
“Huh. That’s a first.”
I snort a laugh and don’t even care how unattractive it sounds. I attempt to stand, but I’m wobbly.
“You should wait another few minutes,” he says, but I jerk my head no.
“I gotta get the dog. ”
“We got him. Just relax for a bit more.”
I sit back down. I glance around and find Torren King the dog lounging on the ground next to some giant man in black pants and a black T-shirt. I scowl at the dog. He’s definitely on my shit list now. Then I look beyond the dog, past the man, and find a crowd—a large crowd—staring at me. Phones are out, recording and taking pictures. People are whispering and giggling.
Then I notice everything else.
There’s someone sweeping up what looks like broken glass. There are french fries all over the ground. What I thought was sweat on my skin and shirt is actually some sort of soft drink.
“What happened?” I gasp out, and Torren chuckles.
“Well, you bounced right off Damon, then took out a server’s tray before hurtling to the ground. I caught you, but you really decided to do the most damage on your way down.”
A quick glance behind me reveals a café and some dining tables filled with more people.
They are staring, too.
I start to stand again, but Torren places his hands on my shoulders, stopping me.
“Just hang out, yeah? We’ve got a medic coming.”
“No. Thanks, but I’m fine. I have to get back to my sister.”
When I move to stand this time, he doesn’t try to stop me, but he does stand with me. It’s not until he’s towering over me that I remember just how overwhelming his presence is. He’s so tall. He’s so imposing. His head is tilted toward me like he’s studying me, and I can’t handle it. It makes me even more eager to leave.
“You look...”
He trails off, his brow knitting, and I narrow my eyes. I look sweaty? I look angry? I look like I might have a concussion? Or worse...I look familiar ? When he doesn’t finish his thought and the silence starts to feel awkward, I shake my head.
“Look, I really have to go.”
He takes a step back, shoving his hands in his pockets. “Right. Of course. I’m sorry my security mistook you for a crazed fan.”
I wince at his comment, but there’s no recognition in it. I take a deep breath and let myself look at him head-on, grateful for once that he’s wearing the sunglasses, so his green eyes don’t steal my nerve.
I’m not sure at first if I want him to remember me, but when there’s not a single sign on his face that he knows who I am, my stupid heart sinks and my anger flares.
He doesn’t.
He has absolutely no idea who I am.
And damn it if it doesn’t hurt even four years later.