Chapter Two — Alex
“I never pegged you for an ice cream guy,” I say as we pull into the parking lot.
“Why not?” he asks.
“I don’t know. I guess it seems too fun. Playful. Not serious.”
“Trust me, I can be very fun,” he says, winking.
I laugh. It’s odd — I never thought the mood would feel like this, after the intense exchanges we’ve had the last — hell, since we first met. But it’s like we’ve pressed pause on the dynamic for half a second, and we’re just relaxing.
It’s a beautiful day as we enter the ice cream parlor.
“Strawberry?” he asks, looking at me.
I nod. I have no idea how he knows that’s my favorite, but I’m not going to argue. I could probably press him and try to order myself, but I don’t feel the need. He gets mint chocolate chip for himself and a strawberry cone for me.
When we’re at the cashier, he shoots me a look.
“What the fuck are you doing?” he asks.
“Trying to pay?”
He glares at me. “Don’t ever do that again. When you’re with me, you’re taken care of.”
I know I should feel angry or something, but I don’t. It oddly feels nice. Easy.
“Okay,” I say, smiling.
I’ve always hated that performative is he or isn’t he gonna pay dance, where I have to pretend I’m trying to pay to prove I’m not a gold digger. It’s always been stressful. I like that with Callum, there’s no guessing around that. I mean, it’s not like we’re dating. But still, it’s nice.
Callum walks us over to a nearby park and finds a large oak tree. He pulls a blanket out of a bag I only just realized he’s carrying and spreads it out on the ground. Once I’m seated, he hands me my ice cream before joining me.
We sit like that for a few minutes, enjoying our ice cream and the view. Children are laughing, the sun is shining, birds are chirping. It’s about as perfect a day as I could imagine.
It’s weird. I’d normally be upset. Upset at losing. Upset that a million dollars is slipping further away. Upset that I’m now going to have to deal with whatever punishment Callum dreams up for me.
But I’m not. For some reason, none of that feels important now. I’m just enjoying the moment.
I look at Callum, and he smiles. I’m struck again by how good-looking he is.
“Seriously, though,” I blurt out, “Why are you single?”
It’s not the first time I’ve asked him, but the answer he gave me before didn’t make sense.
I mean, I don’t even know what kind of answer could make sense.
I mean, first off, he’s gorgeous — six-foot-three, jet-black hair, piercing green eyes, the same color as the emerald necklace I wear every day.
He’s ripped, despite claiming he basically never goes to the gym.
He just “goes on a run occasionally and sometimes lifts heavy things,” as he puts it.
I don’t even know what that means, but he doesn’t take himself too seriously in that respect.
He’s not like some of my exes who would measure out their protein on a scale each day, obsessing over their macros. None of those men would’ve ever gotten ice cream, that’s for sure. But Callum doesn’t need to worry about that.
His face is gorgeous and masculine — sharp features, smooth skin.
But beyond his looks, the most attractive thing about him has to be his confidence.
I’ve never seen him falter. Every time I say something that I think is going to get under his skin, he reacts the opposite way I’m expecting. He laughs it off.
I used to think the most confident man was the one who bragged the loudest. Now I realize I was wrong. It’s the one who doesn’t need to brag — the one who’s so self-assured he doesn’t need anybody’s validation. That’s Callum.
It also doesn’t hurt that he’s rich and obviously really smart.
I stalked him and found out he’s a math and chess prodigy, like me.
But unlike a lot of the boys from my gifted program who were only successful in school and not in life, Callum somehow translated that into real-world success with a startup he founded in his twenties.
Yet despite all of it, he never brags. His success speaks for itself, I guess. I don’t know if I would call him humble exactly, but he’s not arrogant in a show-offy way. He wears normal clothes. He doesn’t need to be flashy.
And the more I get to know him, the more I realize he’s funny too. All of that to say: I have no idea why he’s single, and even less idea why he resorts to these weird-ass games with women instead of just dating like a normal person.
I know dating is tough for men these days, especially online.
But he’s one of the few men I think would have zero problem.
In fact, I know he’d have no problem. In the five minutes since we left the ice cream place, three different women have come up to him and hit on him in some way.
I’ve never seen anything like it in my life.
Callum sighs and locks eyes with me. I melt a little.
“Do you want the real answer?” he asks.
“Yeah,” I say. “I do.”
“Okay. It’s kind of a long story.” He runs a hand through his hair, then pauses, a hand on his chin. “Where should I begin?”