Chapter Five #2
I look past Callan at the stage, even though things are starting to look a bit more cloudy than they did ten minutes ago. The song feels heavy, coating the air around us and somehow making me feel even more confident.
I dare to glance back up to Callan’s eyes again, and the heat in the room feels too much. I close my eyes for a second before looking back into his.
“Want to get some air?” He tips his head towards the back exit, and I nod, because just like he did in Boston, he knows when I need a break. He tips his glass back, finishing off the whiskey, he starts to walk towards the back door.
I will my legs to move, and they do. I follow him down the short hallway to the back door. I turn my head back and see Becca above the rest of the people at the bar. She is already on top of a barstool making a ‘touchdown’ pose with her arms and wearing a big, ridiculous grin.
I mouth, “Stop,” in her direction and she throws her head back in a cackle. Dave is looking between the both of us laughing.
The cold air rushes in, cooling the prickling heat that’s settled against my skin as Callan pushes the door open. The dark night meets us in the parking lot, but the flickering streetlights around Wildhorse throw shadows and a glow around us.
Callan slides his hands in his pockets, looking back at me as he slows his steps. We are halfway around the building, stepping onto the dimly lit sidewalk.
His smirk has turned into a full-blown smile now and I hear him laugh.
“And what exactly is funny, Callan Reed?” I cross my arms in front of my chest and stop walking, feeling self-conscious.
He stops and turns to face me, a goofy smile that reminds me of all-nighters in the library and Sunday mornings with study guides on his couch still plastered across his face.
His teeth are sparkling and his eyes match, as he runs his hand over his hair and down the back of his neck, shaking his head at me.
“When I said I thought I’d never see you again, I meant it, Max. If you only knew.”
I pull my eyebrows together but can’t stop the smile forming on my lips.
“We haven’t seen each other in over seven years, but it’s not like I live on another planet. It’s definitely a coincidence, sure. I’m more likely to end up here than you are!” I drop my arms to my sides and sidestep to lean against the old brick wall.
Callan tips his head forward, staring at the sidewalk, then raises it to look at me.
“The place where you were supposed to be two years ago…you weren’t.” He takes a slow step towards me, and his eyes look darker. “I never would’ve expected to find you hiding behind a desk on Main Street in this little town.”
He’s within arm’s reach. I look up into his eyes, then down at the zipper of his jacket, hanging at the bottom, and my hand moves in front of me, tugging lightly on it. Once again, I’m confused. Whether or not it’s the tequila is unclear.
“What do you mean, ‘two years ago’?” My eyes move back to his and my body shivers against the cold of the brick wall.
His eyes overtly trace a path from my eyes, down my arms, my chest, and down my legs, finally lifting his head back to my eyes. He shrugs out of his jacket and holds it out on one finger in front of me.
I take it and slip my arms inside. It’s warm from his body heat, it smells like leather, cedar, and burnt salt. I close my eyes, pulling the jacket around my chest as I lean back against the cold bricks.
He takes a step closer, so close I can feel the warmth of his chest and see the faint little puffs of breath as it rises and falls.
“You wouldn’t know what I mean.” His eyes are piercing mine. “Because you weren’t there two years ago when I went into Ellison and Parker to find you.” His smile has dropped, and his eyes are serious, watching mine for a reaction. “I finished…”
He pauses and his eyes definitely fall down to my lips before they land back on my eyes.
“…the things I had to take care of and went back. For you.”
The band is still playing the song on the other side of the wall and the music pounds into my body through the bricks.
My mouth is hanging open slightly, and I don’t think I have breath left in my lungs.
I’m confused, but my brain already feels hazy and I’m considering whether I’m making this scene up in my head.
I breathe in the smell of his jacket again: leather, cedar, and metallic burnt salt.
Callan reaches up and puts both his hands on either side of my head against the bricks. He leans in and the metallic, smoke-over-salt smell is stronger, enveloping me.
“You know, the last time we were in this position seven years ago, I let you walk away.” One of his hands falls to my shoulder and down the arm of his jacket, lightly lacing my fingers in his.
I follow his hand until I’m staring at our joined fingers. The world feels like it’s spinning, but I’m sure that’s not because of the alcohol alone. He rubs his thumb across my fingers before running them back up the path they came to hold my face.
I let myself do what I didn’t seven years ago, relaxing into the touch. My body slackens and my lungs find air, breathing in sharply at the same time my eyes close. When I open my eyes, they meet with his darkened gaze, and the playful smile I haven’t seen in seven years.
His thumb runs across my cheek, leaving heat in its wake, as he tucks a strand of my curly hair behind my ear on a sigh of his own.