Page 23

Twenty-Two

Rosalie pushes the coffee table out of the way and stretches out on the floor of our apartment, right next to where I lay. It was a long ride home. A long, quiet ride with an unhappy Paul in the back and a seething Rosalie up front. I drove and sang along to the radio, ignoring them both.

“I’m afraid you’ll get so caught up in recreating a moment that you won’t remember who it is you actually want to make memories with.”

“I don’t know who I actually like,” I tell Rosalie. “That’s what I’m trying to figure out.”

She sighs, and it sounds a little like a baby moose crying for its mother. “You do too know who you like. We both know who you like.”

“Well… I now know that I do not care for Paul anymore. Is that what you mean?”

“No.” Another moose honk escapes her lips. “You like Callum. Stop denying it.”

“Of course I like Cal. He’s my friend.” And I’m pretty sure he’s hung up on his ex. So, I can’t like Callum. That combination does not lead to a happy ending. “We are just friends.”

“Fran. You are hopeless. You know that, right?”

Rolling onto my side, I prop my head in one hand, resting on my elbow. “I do not know that. I am full of hope.”

“You are. And I love that about you. But let’s try self-reflection and a little honesty. Because you do like Cal.”

Ughhh. Confession time. “I think Callum is still hung up on his ex. I’m nothing like her. He isn’t going to like me that way.”

“I disagree. He might,” Rosalie says. She reaches out a hand and shakes my arm. “Tell me how it felt when Callum kissed you again?”

My insides turn to gravy—warm, buttery, wrap-you-up-in-a-hug gravy. I like gravy—okay? “It was… nice .”

“It was much more than nice. If I remember right, you called it the best kiss of your life, and said something about Thanksgiving dinner.”

I do spend an obscene amount of time replaying both of our kisses in my head. And yet, I say, “I don’t even think about it anymore.”

“Liar.” She knows me too well.

“Either way, I’m a girl who respects others. And I think Callum likes someone else.”

“Someone he hasn’t talked to in weeks.”

I lick my lips. “Yeah, and she broke up with him. She must not be very smart. Did you happen to?—”

“Get a look at Superman’s abs today? Why yes, I did.”

“I mean—” I start.

But Rosalie finishes for me. “ Wow .”

“Right?” I breathe out, reverting onto my back once more and staring at the ceiling. “We have a friend who is a professional athlete, Rose. And he has… the body of one.”

She laughs. “ You have a friend. I’m just along for the ride.”

“That’s not true,” I say. “I’m sure Callum would call you his friend.”

“I’ve made too many threats against the man for him to call me friend. Now his friend—I would let Zev call me friend any day of the week.”

I laugh—but then her words sink in. “Wait. Threats?” I push up on my elbow once more and look at her. “What kind of threats?”

My phone pings on the floor between us, and Rosalie sits up. “Oops, duty calls.” She slides my cell toward me and hops to her feet. “I’ve got tons of grading to do.”

“Rosalie!”

“Look,” she says, pointing to the message in my notification bar. “It’s Callum. Go text the man you aren’t crushing on.”

I groan… but I do want to read his text, and I shouldn’t be all that surprised that Rosalie has been attempting to intimidate him.

I open his message and read:

Callum Hot Lips Whitaker: Movie? You and me? Tuesday?

A movie? He has piqued my interest… and an invitation. I am officially intrigued. Only?—

Me: I have to work Tuesday. Wednesday?

Callum Hot Lips Whitaker: I fly out Wednesday.

Me: Where to?

Callum Hot Lips Whitaker: We play in Philly on Thursday.

Me: Wow. Fun.

Callum Hot Lips Whitaker: Yeah. We need this one.

Me: How can I help?

Callum Hot Lips Whitaker: Just thought we could hang out. Do something to take my mind off the game. I think it might help.

Me: Let me see if Jan will swap nights with me.

Callum Hot Lips Whitaker: You’d do that?

Me: Yes. In a heartbeat. Jan might not, though—Tuesdays are dead. Pray that she has a big exam coming—then she can work and study all at once.

Callum Hot Lips Whitaker: Sending one up to the Big Guy as I type.

Five minutes later, Callum’s prayer is heard. Jan has a test to study for and a paper due. That’s what she gets for studying math and minoring in English.

I exhale, my nerves extra charged as I text him back.

Me: Jan can swap. Want me to bring a movie?

Callum Hot Lips Whitaker: I’ve already got one in the queue.

I can’t remember the last time I was invited to a guy’s place to do anything.

Probably Kyle Seller after I did that whole Princess Bride ‘As You Wish’ bit, and he invited me to his place for drinks…

Rosalie would not let me go. She said he was scummy.

So, it’s probably for the best. Kyle Seller and I did not last long.

I follow my GPS to the Lakeview Apartments. Cal said he’d meet me out front. There’s a closed gate into the parking lot, but tall, dark, and blue-eyed Callum stands just outside the gate waiting for me.

My heart leaps like a tiny ballerina, and I remind that dancing heartbreaker that Cal and I are just friends. That he likes someone else, and I agreed to friendship and nothing more.

I pull up to my smiling, waving friend , and he runs around the car, climbing into the passenger side of my Honda.

“Hey,” he says, not even breathless. Granted, it was a short run, but still, the man is fit. He closes the door behind him and leans out the window, typing in a code for the gate. As it opens he peers around my car. “Whoa. Roll-up windows. How old is this car?”

“Old. It also will not die. Which is exactly why I love it. Where do I park?”

“This way,” he says, and I can’t help but notice his grin. Callum is smiling like a kid.

“You seem happy. Like really happy. ”

“I’m just excited. I haven’t watched a movie in a while, and—” He runs a hand through his hair and smirks. “Honestly, I haven’t had a friend over in a while.”

“The guys don’t come visit?”

His thick brows lift. “The guys all live here.”

“Here?” I peer up at the three-story building, Lake Tesoro just behind it. It’s nice—really nice. Like, upscale.

“Most of them. Will Baxter—our team owner—owns this building too. It’s for the team.

Most of us live here. It’s actually in our contract.

A couple guys are married and are allowed to live outside of Lakeview.

Devon’s wife really wanted a backyard for their daughter.

They live just a few miles away. I’m not sure Sarah wanted to raise their little girl in a building filled with sweaty soccer players either. ”

A laugh titters from my throat. Why ever not? I’d live here in an instant. “That’s… understandable.”

“Yeah, it is. Baxter’s good to us. A lot of teams require specific housing.

But Lakeview is a nice place. Baxter’s made sure we have it good.

I heard he helped Devon and his family find a nice place too.

We aren’t paid like the majors, but we are the best-paid minors in our league.

Baxter takes care of us. I’m pretty sure no one leaves the Red Tails voluntarily. ”

“How do I become one?”

A low, gravelly laugh rumbles in Callum’s chest. “Well, how are you at soccer?”

I pull into an empty space and peer at him, grinning with all my teeth. “Uh… not great. But I really did enjoy watching your game.”

“Hey!” A muffled cry sounds from outside the car. “FRANNY!”

I peer out the window to one of Cal’s teammates—Lucca. I send him a small wave and scoop my hair behind one ear. He doesn’t care that he’s shirtless and outside, he happily waves back.

“So, you’re telling me this apartment building is filled with shirtless soccer-playing men?”

A crease forms between Callum’s eyes. “I’m guessing most have shirts on. Lucca is a little obsessed with himself. He’d walk around naked if we’d let him.”

I laugh. Jumping beans have come to life in my stomach. I’m nervous. And anxious. I have a friend who is a professional athlete and we’re going to hang out at his place and watch a movie. That’s a scenario even my imagination never thought to dream up.

Callum’s apartment is on level one, Apartment #102—so we only see one more of his teammates before safely entering his home.

The lights are dim, but I peer about the open floor plan, brown leather couch with wooden shelves in front of it.

There’s a round wooden table in the kitchen area and dark cupboards lining the back wall.

“Wow. You like wood .”

Callum laughs. “I like natural and dark. Baxter even let me stain the cupboards.”

“Nice.” I step onto the hard floors and breathe in the cedar and musk that fills this great room.

There’s a blue rug beneath the couch and a coffee table in the living room.

The shelves the couch faces are filled with framed photos, vinyl records, and a couple trophies.

“Wait,” I say. “Where’s your TV?” I turn about the room again—kitchen to the left, living room to the right. But no television in sight.

“Oh.” He swallows. “It’s in my bedroom. I don’t watch a lot of TV. In fact, I might fall asleep during the movie—just an FYI. ”

“Did you lure me to your house to get me into your bedroom, Callum Whitaker?”

“What?” he chokes in shock. “No. I—Fran, I didn’t do that.”

“Dang.” I swallow, then drag my hand over my head. “I mean, whew,” I say, possibly a little too dramatically. “Because that would have been tragic.” I bite my cheek. I’m so not that girl. I do not get around. But I might not completely hate it if Callum decided to like me.

“I’ll bring the television out here. I promise, Fran?—”

“Simmer down, Mr. Excitable. I didn’t think you brought me here to seduce me.”

He lets out a breath. “Good. Because I didn’t.”

“Yeah, can we move on now?” I attempt to nonchalantly shove my hands into my pockets, but these jeans have zero space in the pocket department.

So, the tips of my fingers edge their way in, and my arms pop up like an awkward puppet with a lousy master.

I leave them like that for three whole seconds before clearing my throat and crossing my arms over my chest. “What movie are we watching?”

“I thought we could watch Roman Holiday . After you talked about it on Sunday, I thought I might like it.”

“Really?” My awkward arms fall to my side, and my smile brightens. “You want to watch Audrey with me?”

“Yeah. I thought we could watch the movie and talk .”

“Okay,” I say, my heart light. “Are we viewing or talking first?” I’m eyeing Callum’s photos, and I have questions.

“Let’s watch first. Only you can’t be offended if I fall asleep. I never stay awake during movies.”

“Then you’re watching the wrong movies.”

“It’s just the TV. I’m more active, and if I’m down, I’m sleeping, you know?”

“You will stay awake in this one.”