“You know he does, though, right? Even now, that boy is so in love with you that—”
The sound of the front door being unlocked has us all sitting up straight suddenly, like we’re doing something we shouldn’t be and need to hide it from whoever is coming in. As if he heard his ears ringing, Callum walks into the foyer and heads for the stairs.
“Oh, shit, hey.” He jumps a little when he passes and sees the three of us sitting there.
We all shut up like clams when he came in, so it’s probably silent when he passes the room thinking there’s no one in here.
“Hey,” Taya greets him.
I avert my gaze, wanting to crawl into a hole rather than have him see that I just had an emotional breakdown. I feel those dark eyes roam over me, though, and my body tingles with the desperate need to be held by him. After the revelation I just made to my best friends, though, I feel as raw as a live nerve ending. All of my secrets are bubbling to the surface, and I’m not sure I’m ready to share them with Callum yet.
With a strange and curious backward glance, he leaves us to it, heading upstairs.
“See, totally in love,” Amelie whispers.
We all crack up in hysterics, the moment broken and our emotions leaking from us like water that’s just popped out of a balloon.
It feels incredible to finally come clean, to share my shameful skeletons so that someone else can carry the burden. Now, I just have to share it with the one person who could still reject me after I confess.
19
BEVAN
My insides are trying to kill me.
Or maybe that’s mother nature. Either way, period cramps are the devil and I am Satan’s bitch at this moment. My period showed up strong and swift two days ago, and I’ve been down for the count ever since. After sitting through the LSATs with all the tension in my body, this feels like I’m being taken over by the flu rather than just bleeding from my fucking vagina.
Being a woman is so not all it’s cracked up to be.
Staring up at the ceiling as I wrap myself in my covers, I groan heavily. I’m draped in Callum’s high school basketball sweatshirts, an article of clothing I only take out when I’m in dire need of comfort. Especially now that he’s living in the house, I can’t have him catch me wearing it. But as I pull the hood up and fist my arms in the sleeves like they’re gloves, it brings some small modicum of healing.
Until another cramp pulls into the station and my pubic bones feel like they’re revolting from my body.
From my laptop, Lindsay Lohan is singing some grungy teen rock song and I try to focus on it through the pain. Freaky Friday is a random sick movie of choice, but it’s mine and I’m keeping it.
When the knock comes on my door, I barely even register it before Callum is walking into my room. I scramble to cover myself and hide the fact that not only do I look like a shrew, but that I’m wearing his sweatshirt long after we’ve broken up.
“Hey, Bev?” His voice is cautious.
“Oh, hi.” It sounds like there is a frog in my throat, and I just sit up because he’s in here and he’s going to see me anyway.
The minute those expressive, hooded eyes clock my choice of apparel, I see it. Callum registers what I’m wearing and stutters for a minute, then continues into my room. He stands awkwardly in the middle, and it occurs to me that we used to spend so much time in here. Callum would usually crash in my bed when we were a couple, because my room was far cleaner than his.
“Wanted to bring you something.”
His hands extend and I see he’s holding a jumbo pack of Pull ’N’ Peel watermelon Twizzlers. My favorite candy.
Something warm and giddy bubbles up inside me, like he’s just brought me diamonds instead of a two-dollar purchase from the convenience store down the block.
“Are you only doing this because I did your laundry?”
I won’t be able to bear it if I know he doesn’t actually mean this. Because to anyone else, this just looks like a good job, here’s a small celebratory gift. To me, I’m blowing it way out of proportion. It’s a gift he actively went and got for me, one he knows is one of my favorite things. Callum took the time to think of me. He remembered what I prefer, and also acknowledged I did something tough and important.
“I wanted to say thanks for that. And it’s a big deal, your LSATs. Hope you passed.” His smile is small as he turns to leave my room.
“These are the only things you used to bring me,” I blurt out, and Callum falters, but I continue. “I think you thought I was never the flowers and jewelry kind of girl. I guess I’m not, and we started dating so young that that phase was gone by the time I would have even appreciated them. But it was always special when you brought me my favorite candy. I knew you were really thinking of me.”
“Was I a selfish asshole when we dated?” His question comes out rushed. “Taya and the guys have been telling me …”
He doesn’t finish the thought, and the question lingers in the air.
“You weren’t an asshole, no. If anyone ever looked at us, they’d surmise I was the nasty one and you were the angel. But you are selfish, Callum. It’s part of your charm, at least it always was to me. You do what you want. You never do anything you don’t want to. You don’t think about a lot of people besides yourself. I always thought those things were admirable, because I’d grown up and been taught to value them. But when that was turned around on me and I was left in the dust because of one of your decisions, it hurt like hell.”
His Adam’s apple bobs in that thick neck as he gulps, the effect sexy instead of guilty. “I guess I never saw that. All this time I’ve blamed you and you took it, but our breakup was as much my fault as it was yours. I’m sorry. You deserve to hear that. I’m sorry you never felt that I treated you right or felt special.”
“I didn’t say that.” My voice is hushed, completely taken aback that he’s admitting this.
That we’re having this conversation at all.
“Why can we be honest now?” I muse, confused and shaken.
“Maybe we’re past the hurt? Maybe we can view what we had fondly, and move on to … I don’t know? Being friends?” Callum looks so hopeful, while my stomach just dropped through the floorboards.
Fuck, that fucking hurt. It feels like he just roundhouse kicked my heart, because that was possibly the worst thing Callum could have said.
I blink back against tears and try to focus on the movie as I open the candy. I’m not even hungry for it now, but I need him to get out of my room.
“Well, thanks for these.” My voice sounds foreign in my ears.
“Those Twizzlers aren’t just for a congrats for taking the test. I know you have your period.” Callum’s tone is even.
It always melted me how normal he made that time of the month seem. So many other guys, especially in high school, would giggle and act completely grossed out at any mention of menstruation blood. But not my ex-boyfriend. He was always very mature about my period and would even buy me tampons from the store when we lived in the dorms freshman year and he had a car when I didn’t.
“Can you tell since I’m extra bitchy this week?” I joke.