Page 6 of Starrily (Perks of Being #2)

Chapter 6

C allie held open the door to her apartment complex for Ava, carrying a new cat scratching tree. “If I put any herb on the windowsill, Theia will either throw it off or pee into it.”

“Then program an alarm to tell her to back off. Really, you should try it. It makes such a difference to have fresh herbs.”

They headed up the stairs; Callie unlocked her door, then punched it three times to get it unstuck. “Drink?” she asked as she headed to the counter.

“Please.” Ava deposited the scratcher on the floor. She threw herself on the sofa, only to disturb a napping Theia, who hissed and raised her tail.

“Oh, come on. Surely I don’t constitute as a stranger anymore,” Ava said.

“It’s not you. She doesn’t like anyone.” Callie grabbed Theia and walked to the bedroom.

“I even brought you a new scratching tree,” Ava yelled after the cat.

After Theia had been contained in the bedroom, Callie went to fix the drinks, and Ava sprawled on the sofa.

“So,” Ava started. “Do you want to tell me why you were so upset we had to go buy cat accessories to calm you down?”

“I wasn’t upset. Just annoyed.”

“Mm-hmm.”

Callie brought two glasses of lemonade and sat next to her friend. “It’s Pale Ginger Guy.”

Ava processed the sentence for a few moments. “Ohh. Sexy Pale Ginger Guy. The man from zero-gravity flight, whom you’re now stuck working with.”

Callie sighed.

“What did he do?”

“He lost your scarf.”

Ava drew her eyebrows together. “My what now?”

“The scarf you gave me when we exchanged gifts for graduation.”

“Oh, that thing. What happened?”

“We were taking photos and I had to take it off, but he tried to help and let it drift away in the wind.”

“Mmm. Very Hollywood movie.”

“Aren’t you upset?”

“Callie.” Ava put her drink glass on the coffee table and turned toward her. “I’m glad you cherished it that much. But it was just a scarf.”

“You hand-painted it—”

“Back when I thought I was gonna be a great artist, yeah. Remember what I said when I gave it to you? In a few years, when I’m super famous, you can sell it for a lot of money.” She laughed. “Honestly, it’s probably better that thing got lost. I don’t need you to wear a scarf to be your friend.”

Callie leaned back on the sofa.

“So now that you have no more excuses,” Ava continued, “tell me why you’re angry at him.”

“Isn’t it obvious? He’s the worst.”

“Spoken like a true high schooler.”

Callie wanted to roll her eyes but stopped in time. No need to emphasize Ava’s point.

“I don’t work with him, and know barely anything about him,” Ava said. “But he didn’t seem that bad. Rather fun, actually.” She narrowed her eyes. “That’s it, isn’t it? You feel threatened by him.”

Callie scoffed. “How? He has his job, I have mine, and sure, he’s imposing himself on our project, but I wouldn’t call it threatened—”

“Not because of the job,” Ava interrupted. “You think he looks nice, and you’re afraid of it. You may like his sense of humor, and you’re afraid of it.”

“He wishes he had a good sense of humor.” Callie sipped her lemonade. “It’s like if a nerd only read about jokes in some misguided article on the internet.”

“So, just like you.”

She gave Ava a side glance. Ava only smiled knowingly.

Was there any truth to her observation? No. No. She didn’t dislike Simon because there was a chance she could like him instead. That didn’t make any sense.

It was because he made her feel odd. He made it so all the wrong words came out of her mouth, including her outburst at the photography session. Whether cracking a joke or trying to provoke her, he made her feel things. Things she thought she’d locked away.

“You can deny it, but you keep people at a distance,” Ava said.

“I don’t keep you at a distance,” Callie said, her voice faltering only with the last word. But she did, didn’t she? Ava was a good friend; but she’d never be the bestest of friends, like Mila had been. No one would ever sneak into her heart again—not in a way of friendship, and not in romance.

“That’s because you got stuck sharing an apartment with me when you didn’t get a room at Caltech dorms,” Ava said with a cheeky smile. “You had no choice but to become my friend, or it would’ve been a hellish few years.”

Callie swished the lemonade in her glass as she pondered her friend’s statement.

“You keep everyone else away, though. Like Abed. Remember Abed? He was so nice. Cute. Smart. He watched all the nerdy movies and read all the books you’ve read—”

“He wasn’t the right one.”

“You pushed him away before he could become the right one!”

Callie clamped her mouth shut.

“You know, sometimes, when you meet someone, you get the shivers, or the sparks, or just … feels. You feel they might be right. What if …” Ava leaned forward, biting her lip. “What if some part of you got that reaction with Sexy Pale Ginger Guy, but because you’re wired so hard not to like anyone in that way, instead of your brain sending you a ‘heeeey, that might be the right one’ reaction, it sent you an ‘oh shit, evacuate, get to hating’ reaction?” Ava wiggled her eyebrows as if she’d made the world’s greatest discovery.

“That is beyond ridiculous,” Callie said. “That’s not how the brain works.”

“The brain works in mysterious ways.”

“Not that mysterious.”

“Fine.” Ava sipped more lemonade. “Then we’ll say you don’t like him because you’re a Pisces and he’s probably a Leo, and you’re incompatible.”

“This has nothing to do with astrology. We’re not dictated by Saturn being above the horizon when we were born.”

“Exactly what a Pisces would say.” Ava nodded wisely.

Callie grabbed a pillow and flung it at her. Ava deftly avoided it and laughed.

They sat in silence for a few minutes, then Ava said, “Is there no way to stop working with him?”

“He has the option to not show up. I don’t.”

“And the project?”

Callie sighed. “If Aries backed out of funding the Selene mission, best case, it would get substantially delayed, worst case, canceled. Which would leave a bunch of people without data for their projects, and some possibly without their jobs.”

“Well, then.” Ava swirled the last bit of drink in her glass. “You don’t think you could try giving Simon Montague a chance?”

Callie looked out the window. “I don’t know.” It would lead to her thinking more about what Ava had said—and she didn’t want to drown in the memories …

In her dreams, Callie was back at the observatory, turning her face to the sun, enjoying the breeze. There was no disturbing flashing of the camera, no Simon; everything was peaceful and quiet. She didn’t even see the city—only the ocean and the sky. She closed her eyes and sighed contently.

The smooth silk of her scarf caressed her neck as it unwrapped. She opened her eyes just as it flew away. Panic shot through her—too strong, too intense for something as trivial as a scarf.

The sky flooded, the clear blue changing into murky brown water. The scarf twisted and turned, reshaping into a pale child’s arm. Clouds of dust and silt obscured the arm’s owner, offering Callie only a dark silhouette in the water.

“Callie!” the high-pitched scream came.

“Just hold on a bit longer. I’ll pull you out. I’ve got you.” Callie said the words, but they came out as those of a little girl. Water bubbled in her throat, bitter and sandy and suffocating.

“Callie!” The voice, and with it the arm, faded.

“Mila! No!”

Callie came awake—whether with a scream or not, she wasn’t sure, but she grabbed her throat and tried to catch her breath.

It’s all right. You’re not drowning. It was only a dream.

But once, it hadn’t been.

She sat on her bed for the longest time, bringing her heartbeat back down, just breathing.

She hadn’t dreamed about Mila in so long. She thought she had it all under control.

Maybe that was the problem. Too much control. Too much denial, too much pent-up anger. She could hide behind science all day, every day, but it would never erase her memories.

Simon wasn’t the reason for her anger; he was only a victim. But that changed nothing. Ava had said perhaps something in Callie recognized Simon as someone … compatible. A kindred spirit. A soul mate?

Perhaps he reminded her of Mila. Bright, adventurous, unafraid. Maybe that’s why, from the moment she’d met him, she instinctively knew she could like him—and had to push him away. All the little annoyances, like him insinuating himself into her project, only made it easier.

Theia jumped onto the bed. Callie petted her, then hid her face in her fur.

“You won’t leave me, will you?” she mumbled.

Theia meowed.

“Good.” At least she had her cat.

Because it was unlikely she’d ever allow herself to have a kindred spirit again.

***

Simon usually wasn’t a grunter at tennis, but apparently today, it was time to let it all out. He wasn't sure whether grunting improved his breathing and rhythm, but it felt good.

Stan was putting up a fight. At over six feet and at least 220 pounds, one wouldn’t think he’d be good at tennis, but he returned an incredible amount of serves and had no problem running from one side of the court to the other to return Simon’s shots.

After a deuce that lasted no less than five minutes, Simon called for a break and got his bottle of water and a towel.

“You are annoyed,” Stan said as he approached, grabbing a bottle himself.

“I like a challenge, but you don’t have to play like you’re at a Grand Slam,” Simon said.

“Not that.” Stan paused to drink. “Doctor?”

“Hmm?”

“Dr. Guidry annoys you?”

Simon grunted and sat on a bench by the side of the court. “Wouldn’t she annoy you, too?”

Stan shrugged his massive shoulders. “I don’t know her well enough.”

“Count yourself lucky. It’s just … it’s maddening.” Simon rose and started walking back and forth. “It’s a vicious circle of us snapping at each other when we have no reason not to be normal. Well, minus the fact that I’m interposing myself into her project, she thinks I’m a spoiled rich guy, and I think she has a stick up her—” He waved around with his tennis racket, then let the arm fall limp at his side. “What the fuck do I do, Stan?”

“Abandon collaboration?”

“I don’t want to cut their funding.”

“I meant, not seek her out.”

“See, this is where the problem lies.” Simon sat back down. “Everett has a sneaky plan that involves me getting friendly with Calliope.”

Stan rubbed his chin. “Everett. Never liked him much.”

“Say what you will, he’s been very helpful with the company.”

“True. Still don’t like him.”

“Let’s just assume not seeing her again is not an option.”

“Didn’t she request that? Yesterday?”

“Once she cools down, she’ll realize it’s not an option. We’re both stuck.”

Stan sat down next to him, the bench groaning slightly. “You didn’t look as annoyed at each other. Yesterday. When you were playing with the dog.”

Stan must really be getting his therapist hat on—that was one of the longest sentences Simon had ever heard him say.

“Then what? I should bring a dog to her office?”

“Inadvisable.”

Simon sighed and leaned back.

“You haven’t had many relationships since the accident.”

He didn’t. A shorter one here and there. A couple of drunk nights that were definitely forgotten. And it wasn’t like he was against relationships … maybe it was just him being different now. Maybe he didn’t know what part of himself he’d be giving to that someone else.

But regardless … “Everett said to soften her up. I can do it in a friendly way.”

“Not my point.”

“I see why you’re better suited as a bodyguard than a therapist.”

Stan shrugged and didn’t say anything else. And Simon didn’t mind that. As much as he liked being in the center of action, sometimes, silence was comforting. In a weird way, Stan was comforting. He was the first person Simon saw when he woke up after the car crash: a giant man in a business suit and sunglasses, sitting in the corner of his hospital room, watching, but unmoving. “Good morning, Mr. Simon,” he’d said then, and even in his very confused mind, Simon knew something must’ve gone terribly wrong.

In a way, Stan was the first friend Simon had made in this life, and probably the person he trusted most. He trusted Everett with business decisions—but he trusted Stan with everything else.

“What do I do?” he asked.

Stan didn’t bother to look at him, but Simon knew he understood.

“You like challenges,” the bodyguard said. “So don’t look at it as an annoyance. Look at it as a challenge. You might yet come to like her.”

Calliope’s face flashed in his mind, caught in that brief moment when she’d almost smiled. Maybe Stan was up to something. Liking —Simon wouldn’t think about that too much for now. But something brighter had to be hidden somewhere deep inside. She seemed to live a good, comfortable life. Surely, she couldn’t refuse to take any enjoyment out of it.

Even a simple smile.

So that would be his challenge. He didn’t know how he’d achieve it, but Calliope Guidry had better watch out—he was coming for her and he was going to make her smile.