Page 26

AMELIA

A few hours and a bath later, my cuddly robe wraps around me as I sit in the bathroom sorting through all the makeup, hair care, and face masks.

These are things Caleb refused to let me pay for.

I kept telling him it was too much and that I wanted to buy them myself, but he just blocked my card and slipped his into the machine instead.

He’s insane but also the best.

My phone buzzes. Caleb’s name flashes on the screen as I answer, pressing the speaker button.

“Miss me already?”

Ripping open the sheet mask, I wait for him to speak. There’s a brief silence.

“I do actually,” he quietly says. “Can I stop by?”

“Now?”

His voice stammers. “Um…never mind. It’s late, sorry.” The rawness in his voice makes my heart ache. The only time he has ever sounded like that is when he was dealing with his dad… oh.

“No!” I say quickly. “Come over.”

“You sure?”

“Yes, I’m not busy.” I say, applying my face mask. Maybe him seeing me looking like a scary Michael Myers will make him laugh and feel somewhat better.

I change into some shorts and an oversized hoodie as I wait for Caleb to show up.

Thud

Thud

Thud

I jog to the front door, swinging it open, and my heart drops. He looks exhausted. Dark circles shadow his eyes, his hair is messily pushed back, and he’s still wearing the clothes from earlier.

“Caleb.” My hands reach out to his wrist, pulling him inside my apartment. “What happened?”

“My dad.” He laughs bitterly. “Like always.”

That’s all I need to hear. I pull him close, then take his hand in mine as we settle onto my couch.

“You look scary.” He pokes my face, forcing a smile. I can tell he’s holding back.

“Don’t I look cute?” I utter, chuckling.

He nods, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear. “Always.”

“Now.” I say, peeling off the mask and crumpling it in my hand, tossing it on the table, “What’s going on?”

Caleb’s body tenses as he stares out my window. “It’s getting old. Constantly never doing anything right.”

I lift both my legs up on the couch, crossing them as I lean back, listening to his words.

Hearing him speak like this feels like torture, he’s always so bubbly and happy.

“When I got home tonight, he called,” he squeezes his thumb, making my chest tighten. “Letting me know how awful I was during the game”

My brows pull together.

There’s a fine line between encouraging someone to do better and then it’s whatever the hell his dad thinks he’s doing. If he didn’t stop, he would lose his son.

Sophomore Year High School, April 2014

We were all sprawled out across Caleb’s bedroom after we celebrated his win. I was on the bean bag chair next to him, Tia was sitting way too close to the TV, I was afraid her eyes would get fried, and Amir was chilling right beside her.

“Caleb, come here,” his dad called out from the living room. I watched Caleb rise, turning up the volume, as he squeezed his thumb on the way out. Tia glanced at him over her shoulder.

I sighed, getting up and ‘pretending’ to use the bathroom as I tiptoe down the hallway. I paused near the bathroom door, tilting my head, trying to eavesdrop.

“You may have impressed everyone else but you looked like a fool running down that field.” He snapped.

I winced at his dad’s tone, clinging onto the bathroom door frame as I listened. His dad never lets up on him, everything Caleb did had to be perfect in his eyes or it was no good.

“What do you mean? I scored the first touchdown even though Coach said—” Caleb’s voice was quiet, laced with frustration.

“Who’d you rather listen to? Him or someone who actually plays in the league? His dad cuts in, scoffing.

I peeked my head further out, catching a glimpse of his dad, his face red. Caleb’s jaw clenched but he stayed quiet.

“You’ll be lucky if you get drafted at this rate. You think it’ll be handed to you because you’re my son? I don’t give a shit if you scored your first goal, your form is lazy as hell.”

Caleb’s head drops as he nods.

“You’re going to be like every other kid whose dreams are to make it and end up failing instead. You’ll just be a fucking disappoint and a waste of potential.” He snaps, pointing down the hallway. “Now go to your room.”

I gasped, tiptoeing back into the room as I sank into the beanbag, my stomach sinking along with it.

Caleb cracked the door open, squeezing his thumbs harder, his knuckles turned white. I watched him enter the room, looking like a boy who’d been crushed by his idol.

His eyes were dark as he sat beside me. I reached out, intertwining our hands, while his shoulders sagged in relief. I squeezed his hand, scooted closer, and rested my head on his shoulder as we watched the rest of the movie.

“I’ve spent my entire life trying to get his approval. I thought that once I went pro, he’d finally tell me how proud he is.”

My heart breaks, feeling his pain like it was my own. “Look at me.”

He finally turns his head, our eyes meeting. His filled with doubt and pain that he’s been carrying for so many years.

“You have always wanted to go pro for yourself too, and you did. You have worked your ass off to get to where you are today. Your strength and determination are what got you in the NFL. Don’t let him take that away from you.”

“Fuck.” He shakes his head, wiping unshed tears. “Sorry.”

The last time I’ve seen Caleb even come close to crying was that day in high school. This is all built up and I’m afraid one day he’ll break.

I reach out, my fingers brushing his cheek. “You’ve always inspired me, even as kids,” I say. “I hope you know that.”

He lets out a shaky breath, leaning in, pressing his forehead against mine. Then he shakes his head. “Don’t,” he whispers, pleading.

“I mean it. It hurts me that you don’t see yourself the way I do. When I look at you, I see a hardworking man who has never given up and has made every dream of his a reality.”

“Not every dream,” he murmurs, pulling back just enough to press a gentle kiss to my forehead. “There’s still one more left.”

In this moment, I’m feeling things I never thought I’d experience again, and that thought alone scares me…

Am I falling for my best friend?