“Of course, I do, October fourteenth,” I answer. “The day a star was born,” I say dramatically and he puts a hand over his heart.
“Phew, you almost lost your favorite sister role.”
“Yeeeeahhh right. I’m fairly certain I could crash your BMW, blow through your savings account, and trash your apartment and still be your favorite sister.”
He snorts and pours us both another shot. “Facts. I mean, don’t get me wrong. Mon and I have come a long way and I still consider her one of my best friends but…you…” He smiles. “You’re my favorite person.”
Chapter 3
Gabrielle
A million butterflies shed their cocoons and begin to flap their wings wildly in my stomach. “Really?” I squeal. “I’m your favorite person?”
“Easily. I thought you knew that.” He frowns.
“I…mean you’re my favorite person too obviously. But I didn’t know I was yours,” I whisper and rub my finger along the rim of my glass. “That means a lot to me.” I look towards the television and smile when I see Kevin setting up his battleground in his house. “Should we take these?” I ask, referring to the shots that are probably a horrible idea.
He nods and we do it in silence. I’m not sure if the silence is awkward or comfortable but the alcohol makes me break it. “So, are you seeing anyone?” I don’t know why I ask this question; I don’t want to know and I’m so unprepared for his answer.
“No.” He chuckles. “I’m not.”
“Not even casually?”
“I spend all my time at work or with my baby sister; where does a girlfriend or whatever fit into that?”
“Okay not all your time. And you could still have a fuck buddy or someone you call over when you’re lonely or whatever.”
“Been there, done that.” He shrugs. “The loneliness I feel can’t be fixed with that.”
I frown. “Wait, you’re lonely? Like actually? I meant like lonely on a particular night, I didn’t mean like…James…really?” My heart hurts hearing this. I want to wrap him in a hug and shield him from any pain and loneliness he’s ever felt.
He sits up. “Gab, it’s no big deal.”
“It’s a very big deal. How are you lonely? You’ve got tons of friends and you’re likable and charming and—”
“None of that matters at the end of the day,” he interrupts. “I mean friends are important, don't get me wrong but…this apartment is huge and it would be nice to come home to someone at the end of the day.”
“Oh my God.” I put my hands over my eyes. “And you say you spend all your time with me which means you’ll never meet someone! I am so sorry. When we get back, I’ll stop inviting myself over. You need to get out there.”
“No, Gab. I’m not agreeing to that. Spending time with you is what keeps me sane. Well…sometimes.” He laughs.
I don’t understand the ominous comment. “I drive you insane?”
“Yeah Gabrielle, you do.” There he goes using my full name again.
“How?”
“Because—” He stops. “Never mind. It’s just because I worry about you.”
Oh. My. God. He’s lying to me.
“You’re lying.” I hadn’t meant to call him out on it because it was obvious he did not want to tell me the truth but the words slipped out easily. Thanks a lot, Jameson.
“What?”
“You’re lying. It’s not because you worry about me.”
“Yes, it is. You think I don’t worry about you?”
“I’m not saying you’re lying about that; I’m saying that’s not why I drive you insane.”
He rubs his forehead and shakes his head. “Gab, can we not do this now?”
“Do what?”
His blue eyes narrow and suddenly look darker than usual. “This whole thing where you don’t let things go and berate me into telling you something?”
“I just…want to know. You’re the one who said we tell each other everything.”
“And you tell me everything?” he asks and my heart begins to pound in my chest.
Lie.
“Of course, I do.”
“I don’t believe you.”
Lie better.
I shrug. “Believe whatever you want.” I take another bite of pizza, in desperate need to back pedal out of this conversation that alcohol pushed me into. “I tell you everything.”
We’re silent for a few moments before he breaks it. “Do you ever wish our parents hadn’t adopted you?” he asks and I almost choke on the pizza. His hands immediately go to my back rubbing it soothingly but it does nothing to ease the ache in my chest over his words. Is he serious?
“Wha-what…are you saying?” Tears find my eyes and I do my best to swallow them down as his eyes widen in horror.
“No, no…fuck. I just heard how that sounded.” He shakes his head. “Not how I meant it. I just mean…if we’d met under different circumstances.”
I’d thought from time to time how my life would have differed if I’d been adopted by a different family. A less affluent family. One where I had no siblings. One where there was no James. It was hard to imagine because the Calloways are my family. I am a Calloway. I love them whole-heartedly and I know the feeling is mutual. I wasn’t a child that didn’t feel like she belonged even when a few kids at school tried to tell me I didn’t.
I’m Gabrielle Calloway, but yeah…sometimes it sucked that it meant I was sister to James Calloway, thereby making him very off limits.
I blink my eyes a few more times, still not exactly sure how he means, but I go with my assumption, trying my best not to assume the worst or hope for the best. “Sure, I guess. Maybe we’d be friends.”
He chuckles. “Gab, we’d be more than friends and you know it.” He pours us two more shots and the liquor combined with his words causes a flutter between my legs. I chuckle awkwardly and try my best to come up with a witty reply but come up short. “You don’t think so?” he responds.
“I…I guess I don’t know what you mean.”
“Never mind.” He shakes his head and stares out the window where I see the snow has started to pick up slightly before sweeping his gaze back to mine. “Want to take these?”
We do so and I’ve officially crossed into intoxication despite my efforts to remain in control. He gets up to stoke the fire in front of us and instantly my fantasy from yesterday comes to mind. A giggle leaves my lips and when he turns back to me, he frowns. “What?”
“I have this fantasy of losing my virginity in front of a fireplace.” Instantly my hand flies over my mouth and I wish I could take back that projectile word vomit. “I mean…just in general. Not here obviously. One too many romance novels,” I ramble and I start to fidget with my hands which is something I do when I’m nervous. James’ eyes flit to them and a smile pulls at his lips.
“You’re nervous?”