“You okay?” Amelie sees my face.
We’d already dealt with Callum showing up at the bar, a tidbit that Gannon neglected to tell us and that I’m going to bitch him out for later. When he showed up, a tiny spark of hope ignited inside me that we could possibly talk tonight. The texts and calls I’d sent over a year ago went unanswered. The occasional drunk message I’d type out and then regret sending in the morning was never responded to. He ended us and then essentially walked out of my life. I feel like there is no closure, and I don’t even want closure.
I want him back.
Apparently, all he wants is someone else.
“Fine. I’m fine.” I gulp against the bile rising in my throat.
Am and Taya exchange a look that says they know I’m absolutely not fine, but I know they won’t say anything about it. Out of the three of us, we all know I’m the one who never wants to have a full discussion on what I’m feeling. Which is what led to my breakup with Callum.
We were together from freshman year of high school until the end of sophomore year. Six years, he was my everything. If I’m being honest, he still is. Callum owns my heart and all of my firsts. Despite our problems, I knew there would never be another boy besides him. He put up with all of my trust issues, breakdowns, irrational jealousy, and emotions. We looked at each other like the other person hung the moon, and sometimes having that kind of passion leads to a ridiculous number of fights.
Over the years, we’d have really good months, and then really bad ones. The turbulence was normal for us, and I was usually the one causing it. Sure, Callum had a jealous streak and I gave him a fair amount of room to assume bad things. Which is what probably took us down, eventually. I blamed so much of my childhood bullshit on him that it caused fault line after fault line. Eventually those began to grow, cracking us wider and wider open until there was so much of our love chipped away, it wasn’t even worth salvaging.
Or at least, it wasn’t worth it to him.
I try to throw my body back into dancing, lose myself in the music. I contemplate getting another shot, but I have volunteer work tomorrow and I need to be in tip-top shape to impress the group leader and get some recognition. Every detail matters if I want to get where I’m going in my career.
My eyes keep straying to Callum, Gannon, and Scott at the bar. The mystery girl has disappeared and the boys all look happy. That reminiscent vibe they’re giving off almost has me smiling, until I remember that if I go over there, it will disappear.
I don’t know how long I try to stop looking at him, but it’s a while. And when my eyes flit over for the thousandth time, I notice him hugging the guys and then departing. Callum doesn’t even look over, doesn’t let our eyes connect like he did earlier. He’s going home, maybe to that girl, and doesn’t want to bother with me whatsoever.
Before my friends can stop me, I’m running out of the bar and after him. This is so immature it’s despicable, I know that. But I can’t help myself.
Callum is walking down the sidewalk, hands in his jean pockets, the ass I’ve fantasized about the past year and a half taunting me under the streetlights.
“Callum.” I don’t yell it, but it might not be audible over the drum of the music from the bar and the random parties spilling out onto the street as we hit some of the college houses on the street.
He stops in his tracks, his shoulders immediately tensing, but doesn’t turn toward me. I know he’s warring with himself on whether or not to confront me. The couple times we’ve interacted since our breakup, Callum acts like facing me is akin to coming into contact with a firing squad. For me? It just feels like my already decimated, decrepit heart is being squeezed in a vise all over again.
Eventually, slowly, he does turn, and I see restrained anger and defeat in his eyes. “What do you want?”
“You can’t fill the room, I heard.” It’s not a question, but at the same time it is.
I want to know if he’s thinking about moving back in.
“I’ll figure it out.” He nods curtly, not looking at me.
I want to push his buttons, make him react. That’s our MO, after all. I want Callum to feel exactly what I’m feeling, to hurt how I’m hurting. I want to scrub the memory of him talking to that other girl from my mind, and if piss and vinegar is going to do that, it’s what I’ll use.
“So, you have a new friend?” My tone is poison and heartbreak.
Finally, finally, he rotates so that our eyes collide. Everything inside me malfunctions, because dear God, I’ve missed him looking at me. I used to look into those midnight-shaded eyes and watch him drink me in like I was the whole world. There was power, love, in that gaze. It used to be how I recharged, where I got my energy and strength from.
Now there is only resigned fury. “Don’t.”
“What?” I say innocently, trying to come off bitchy and nonchalant. “She’s cute, if you’re into that.”
“Stop it, Bevan. I don’t have to do this shit with you anymore, remember? Good night.” And then he’s walking down the sidewalk.
“You’re kidding, right? You’re just walking off in the middle of a conversation?” The toxic, game-playing side of me seeks vengeance.
This is what we were good at. The push and pull, the back and forth. The crying and screaming until we made up so hard that fireworks burst behind our eyes and some piece of furniture in one of our rooms always ended up broken.
Callum doesn’t stop walking, and now I’m stalking him down the road, looking like a crazy person.
“You broke up with me, show up at a bar where my friends are, and then dare to talk to another girl in front of me? What, are you trying to make me jealous?”
I know how delirious and insane I sound. I’m well aware that “desperate girl” vibes are pouring off of me in waves. But I can’t help it. This is the first time I’ve had more than two seconds of his time, and I crave it. I yearn for him to just touch me once, to put us back together even if nothing is fixed.
We’re on a quiet part of the sidewalk, houses dark on either side of the street near the bar. This is a college street, so everyone is either out at another party or down in the Commons drinking at the bars or eating pizza after stumbling out of one.
Callum stops short and turns to face me. Streetlights and the moon are the only things brightening our way, but I can make out the sadness on his face as he turns to me.
“No, Bevan. I’m not. I’m trying to move on and be happy. Which I haven’t been in two fucking years, if that gives you the sick satisfaction you seem to love. But I do find Gretchen interesting, and I am going to go out with her. Because I meant what I said when we broke up. I don’t deserve to be treated the way you treated me. I’m trying, fuck, I’m trying so hard to be strong and look at a future without us. I never thought in my life that I’d say that, but that’s the reality. It’s where we’re at. Please, just let me? Please? I don’t know what more you fucking want from me?”
It feels like he shot me with a cannon; I’m that taken aback. I swear, I stumble two or three steps back, and I’m speechless. All the bitchy venom is knocked out of my sails, and I feel nothing but barren regret and defeat. He really is trying to get over me, which is a thousand times worse than Callum trying to make me jealous with another girl.