Page 28 of The Deviation
FOURTEEN
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JOHNNY
Morning comes—as it must. The first rays of sunlight creep stealthily into the room, dispelling the protective darkness. Calum is asleep beside me, curled on his side with both hands tucked under the pillow and his lips parted in a relaxed pout. I’ve been awake for over an hour, the disparate events of last night crashing and swirling in my exhausted brain.
Not a single part of me regrets what happened between me and Calum. The memory of his touch, the feel of his body against and around my own, burns me still. He’s assuaged the multitude of questions that have thrashed inside me from the night we met. My limbs are warm and languorous, relaxed in a way I’d almost forgotten. I look at him now, and my soul is satisfied.
In the same breath, my heart is breaking.
Ned quit the band. That singular truth screams through my mind over and over, searching for a way to gouge itself into reality. I’d like to believe it was a knee-jerk reaction on Ned’s part. That he didn’t mean it, and he’ll be back. But I saw the hurt in his eyes, the panic. I saw the anguish of betrayal when I accepted Calum’s business card. This may be the end of Fifth Circle. The one part of my life where I can be truly, authentically me.
Calum stirs, but thankfully his eyes remain closed. When he wakes, he too will be forced to confront all he’s on the verge of losing. He only gave in to the desperation of my need last night because I took away his hope for a better future. I dragged him down to my level of despair, where failure freed us both fromtaking responsibility for our actions, and we found solace in each other.
Calum’s presence in my bed is my most hidden fantasy made real, and its implications could devastate us both. I’m lost in the contradiction.
The sunlight reaches the bed, inching ever closer to Calum’s sleeping form. I force myself out from beneath the warm blankets and into the winter chill. Crossing to the window, I draw the curtains closed to envelope him in the comfort of darkness a little longer.
I grab some warm clothes and head for the kitchen to get dressed before putting on the kettle. Thank god it’s Saturday, and I’m not scheduled to work. Coffee in hand, I hunt for my phone and find it discarded on the coffee table in the living room. No messages.
Heaving a sigh, I drop onto the edge of the couch and open a new text message to Ned. It’s probably too soon to be reaching out, but I can’t sit around waiting for Ned to realise he’s being an overly dramatic dick. I have to do something.
My thumbs twitch as they hover over the letters. A frustrated tirade wants to break free, but I hold it back. I tried letting my emotions get the better of me last night. It made things worse.
Ned was my friend long before he was my band mate. I need to remember that. Taking a deep breath, I tap out a simple message.Can we talk?
I toss the phone back on the table, staring at it while I sip my coffee and wait for a response. This is probably a bad time to hold my breath.
“Any news?”
I turn to see Calum standing beside the couch, dressed only in his trousers. His expression is sombre, but his gaze is soft as it wanders over me, and my heart kicks into overdrive.
“Not yet,” I say, rising to stand. “I’ve sent him a message but…” The words trail off into a simple shrug.
With a nod, he nabs his shirt from where it landed last night and shrugs it on. He tries to do up the buttons, but most of them are scattered across my living room floor. Our eyes meet and we both snort a laugh.
“Sorry, not sorry?” I edge closer, unsure where we stand now morning has arrived. I lean in slowly to place a firm but chaste kiss on his lips. “Good morning.”
When I start to back away, he comes after me. His kiss is more insistent than mine, more thorough. It soothes the hesitation in my touch, and I slide my arms around his waist to pull him close. We linger there in the quiet of the morning, sharing warmth and kisses. “You taste like coffee,” he murmurs.
Smiling, I gesture to the couch. “Have a seat. I’ll make you some.”
I return a few minutes later to find Calum curled up with the throw rug I keep on the back of the couch spread out over his lap. His ginger hair is defiantly dishevelled, and he still has pillow lines on his left cheek. All the times I imagined what Calum would look like first thing in the morning—sexy, tousled, horny—I never imagined him looking quite this cuddlesome. It makes me wish we could laze the morning away right here, free from fear of the future, like a normal… two people who had sex last night.
He has his phone in hand as he sends an early morning text of his own. I place a steaming mug on the coffee table in front of him. “Are you hungry? I could make us some breakfast.”
“No, thanks,” he says, rubbing his hands over his face as he drops the phone into his lap. “I should go soon.”
I fold myself onto the other end of the small couch. Our knees crowd each other in the middle. It’s not close enough. “Everything okay?”
He nods with a wry smile. “Hannah’s pissed at me, is all. I usually let her know when I’m going to be out overnight.”
“She worries about you.”
“No, she just…” he pauses, clears his throat. “She likes to know where I am.”
It seems like overkill for a sibling, even if they do share an apartment, but there’s weight to the careful way he says the words. It’s more than the typicalare you dead in a ditch?check-in with family.