Page 41

Thirty-Eight

“I have feelings for Callum,” I burst the minute Rosalie walks in the door. “Now you tell me a secret.”

Her brow furrows and she huffs out a tired breath, tossing her backpack onto the couch. “That isn’t a secret, Fran. Any sane person in the same room as the two of you knows how you feel.”

I pat the floor next to where I sit on our beige living room carpet. Because while I’m bursting with things to say about me, about Callum, about all the feelings I’ve built up—I need to ask about Rose. And swapping secrets is my strategy.

With another huff, my friend slumps onto the edge of the couch and then slides her butt to the floor, plopping right next to me.

“How was your night?”

She shrugs. “Fundraiser meeting.”

I clear my throat. “Rose, you put on lip gloss. You never put on lip gloss. What kind of meeting requires lip gloss? The truth.”

Whatever it was—it doesn’t look as if it went all that well. My bestie needs me right now. Whether she wants my support or not, she’s getting it.

Rosalie covers her face in her hands and groans. “I thought I might like John—Mr. Riviera.”

I breathe in the smallest of gasps. Rosalie hasn’t liked anyone since that butthead Robert broke her heart. I force myself to hold back my emotion, fearing she may clam up on me. “Go on,” I say, and I’m so proud because I sound like one cool cucumber.

Rosalie’s shoulders slump. “Ugh. He suggested we do this meeting over dinner. It sounded like a date, and I had liked him?—”

I hold up one finger, dipping my head to peer at her face better. “Had. You said had. You no longer like him?”

“Well, I thought I did. I should. He’s cute. He’s nice. He has a college degree and a good job. Did you know the entire time Robert and I were together, he never read one book? Not one, Fran.” Her arms fall to her lap, and she slumps further down, the couch supporting her back.

“So, you should like him, but you don’t.”

“Fran,” she grunts. “I spent that entire meeting-date thinking about someone else.”

“Wait. Who?”

“And,” she barks, sitting up and pointing one finger at me, “it’s all your fault!”

“ZEV! You were thinking about Zev.”

She shakes her head, but it isn’t a denial. It’s a confession.

“We can double!”

Rosalie balks out a laugh. “Oh, sure. We can double. Me with the guy who is currently seeing someone else, and you with the boy who doesn’t know what he wants! ”

“Hey,” I whine. “Why does Zev get to be a man while Callum is a boy?”

“Because a man would own up to being half in love with you, Fran. And Callum hasn’t done that.”

“You think he’s in love with me?” I almost choke on the words.

The only thing in my mouth is saliva, and it’s too strong.

I can’t handle it. I hoped he’d gain feelings.

I hoped for his stupid declaration of not needing love to crumple and die.

But in love? With me? I’m not so sure I can believe that.

Rosalie sits straighter. “I don’t know, Fran. Something is there. But you won’t know until you talk to him about it.”

“Transparent,” I say, repeating what she’d told me before.

“Exactly.”

I tap my toe and peer around the large man sitting between me and Callum on this plane. Callum gives me a small grin and mouths the word, “Sorry.”

But it’s not his fault we aren’t seated together. And I didn’t pay for this flight, so I’m not complaining.

I think about what Rosalie said. Transparent . But in order to be transparent about your feelings, you have to understand your feelings.

I’m not sure that I do completely. I like Callum. But his stand on love makes this complicated. I hope he’ll change his mind—no matter where we end up. Callum is too good to not have love in his life.

Do these late-night kisses mean something to him? Or was it just practice, and I need to get over myself?

I’ve never felt this way before—floppy fish and all. But I’m not sure what to be transparent about exactly. For the first time in my life, I’m not planning the next remake, I’m just wondering when I will see Callum again.

What does that mean?

Someone smarter than me knows. I’m certain. I just need to figure out who that smart person is so they can enlighten me.

“Do you want my pretzels?” I hold my small package of pretzels around the man next to me and wait for Callum to accept or reject my offer. I tell myself that it means something if he does or does not. It’s going to clue me in to… something.

Callum’s eyes travel from me to the man between us. The man pushes up on his glasses and swivels from Callum to me.

“You should keep them. I don’t want you to get hungry.”

I’m not sure what that tells me…

“I’ll take them,” the man says.

With a furrowed brow from Callum, the stranger turns to me. “I mean, if you don’t want them.”

Transparent —my non-existent, invisible Rosalie says in my ear.

“Um…” I set my pretzels on the man’s tray and peek around him. “I was thinking,” I say to Callum.

He leans forward, his head turned to me, but he’s struggling to keep his gaze off the blockade between us.

I swallow. “About?—”

Our pretzel friend lifts the bag of snacks to shake the rest of the crumbs into his mouth. I find myself playing a very weird game of peekaboo. I move my head, dodging Pretzel Man’s shake, to see Callum better .

“About—about the other.” I peek beneath the man’s raised arm. “The other night.”

“Sir,” Callum says, motioning his hand downward. “Please. I think you got everything out of the bag. Maybe you could give us a second?”

“Where do you want me to go?” he asks, his voice rising. It’s a fair question. There’s not a lot of space in coach.

“Just—arms down, if that’s okay?”

Pretzel Man huffs a frustrated blow but keeps his hands and my empty pretzel bag in his lap.

“The other night?” Callum says in a voice that makes me wonder for a minute if I imagined the best kiss of my life. Did it actually happen? Sure, I have P&P just about memorized, but I don’t remember seeing the end. Did I space out and imagine the entire thing?

No. I am not crazy. At least I’m not completely crazy and I did not imagine that kiss.

“You kissed me,” I say.

To which Callum responds, “You kissed me first.”

Okay—definitely didn’t imagine it.

I rest my arm overtop of Pretzel Man’s and lean a little closer to Callum. “If we are going all the way back to the beginning, then you kissed me first.”

“Do I know you from somewhere?” our divider friend says.

I sigh but keep my eyes on Callum. I am being transparent and I’m getting answers. “He plays soccer for the Reno-Tesoro Red Tails.”

“No.” Pretzel Man peers at me. “You. I know you from somewhere.”

I look away from Callum to the man between us. “Excuse me? ”

“I’m Alec,” he says.

“Um, hi, Alec. I was trying to?—"

“You’re on the internet a lot.”

“Me?” I slap a hand to my chest and flutter my eyes in a long blink. “Awesome,” I say. He’s seen Paul’s reel. I’ve been avoiding all things social media since my ol’ buddy Paul and I became live-action stars.

“Yeah, you’ve been busy.”

“I was almost crushed by a truck, Alec. It’s not like I asked to go viral.”

“That one.” Alec nods. “But also, the two of you.” He shrugs. “I’d guess the two of you kiss a lot.”

I shake my head. “I’m lost.”

Callum’s cheeks puff out like he’s a chipmunk all ready for winter. He leans forward, getting the best view he can of me. “You haven’t seen it then. Someone recorded us kissing on camera at one of my games.”

“Wow,” I say, sitting back in my seat. “I am an internet sensation.”

“Go ahead and talk about it,” Alec tells us. “Get it all off your chest.”

I wait for him to pull out his phone to record the whole conversation. Why not? As long as I’m getting internet time.

But with Alec’s permission, I have zero desire to talk about anything. I lean my back in my seat and peer out the window. I will be transparent another day.

I’ve been sitting for a minute when Alec nudges my arm with his. I turn, and he holds out a folded scrap of lined yellow paper to me.

I take the slip from his hands and open it up to a written note .

Are you okay?

Yes No

Callum’s made it easy for me. I don’t even have to write a word. I feel a little like a kid back in elementary school, but I don’t hate it. I don’t hate anything about Cal. In fact, I’m going to search for that video of us kissing when we land—it will make my daydreams so much more tangible.

I circle YES and pass the note back to Alec, who reads it before passing it on to Callum.

Our rental car is the first sense of peace we’ve had since chatty Alec followed Callum off the plane. I’ve laid my head back and closed my eyes the entire drive. Until?—

“Are you okay, Fran?” Callum says. I blink my eyes open to a driveway and a cream-stucco home. “Is this too much?”

I peer up at the house, wondering if my peace will be stolen again. “Too late now, even if it is.”

He sets his hand on mine, lacing our fingers. “It’s not. I’ll take you to a hotel right now. I need to see my family. But if this is overwhelming, I can share time?—”

I wink down at our knotted hands. “That wouldn’t be very fair to your mom.”

“She’d understand.”

Suddenly, the front door of the two-story home swings open, and a bellowing “Callum!” roars from the teenage girl who runs around the car to the driver’s side.

“My sister,” he says. “But?—”

“I want to stay,” I mouth to him as the girl flings his door open .

“Cal!” she bellows once more.

“Let me get out of the car, you goof,” Callum says as the girl smothers him, half inside the car herself.

He steps outside, and I watch as the girl leaps, flinging her arms around his neck. Their voices muffle in my head as I watch the scene. Callum and his sister. I’ve always wanted a sister. But then, I can’t imagine a better sister than Rosalie.

I step outside and peer up at the home where Callum grew up. An arched doorway and multiple windows draw my attention first. It’s a pretty home. Nothing like the apartment I grew up in.

From the driveway, there is a rounding walkway to the front door. Rather than grass, the yard is filled with tan rocks and potted plants. Purple, pink, and yellow flowers spill over the sides of each pot.

“They’re fake.” Callum walks up just behind me.

He’s already grabbed our bags from the back, mine twice the size of his.

The young blonde girl hangs on his arm. He nods toward the bright pink peonies.

“Mom couldn’t work in the yard, and Dad didn’t have time.

So, they opted for easy. Dad just has to spray for weeds once a year. ”

“They don’t look fake.” But then I can’t smell the sweetness of the flowers.

“They’re silk flowers,” the girl says. “Treated for the outdoors so they look real. Mom wouldn’t budge on that.”

“They’re beautiful.”

“Everything my mom touches is beautiful,” Callum says with so much sincerity that I believe him to my core.

The girl tugs on Callum’s arm. “You’re here!” she squeals once more.

Callum drops both our bags to the ground and once again hugs his sister close .

“Geez, Tiff,” he grunts. “It’s only been three months.”

“Three months is like a lifetime to a fourteen-year-old. You should know that. Besides, you have lost time to make up for.” She gives her brother the stink eye, and I instantly know she’s referring to Simone and the time he lost with his family. At least the woman set a low bar for me.

The girl’s feet hit the ground once more, and she’s slugging her brother and turning to face me all in one movement—it’s impressive. “You’re Fran.”

“Sorry.” Callum shakes his head. “Tiff, this is Fran. Fran, my sister, Tiffany.”

My breath hitches. “You know who I am?” I say to the girl.

“Mom does not keep secrets,” she says.

I flick my gaze up to Callum and bite my inner cheek. “You’ve told your mother about me?” I whisper to Cal.

“Oh, we know all about you,” Tiffany says, a playful smirk on her face.