Claiming Callie: Part three Page 9

  “You jackass. That’s the most important thing you need to tell her! That’s why you don’t want to go to that party. Isn’t it? You’re afraid something’s going to happen.”

  “Sorta. I’d just rather avoid Maya altogether.”

  Jinny sighs and shakes her head. “You need to tell her, Dean.”

  Does he? What did it matter if she never knew the whole truth? She knows the most important part of it. She knows how he feels about her. Isn’t that enough?

  “What if it upsets her or she gets freaked? Wouldn’t you rather her be happy? That I be happy?”

  Jinny’s rigid stance relaxes and her expression softens. “I know you’re afraid to tell her, but you need to. If you love her as much as you say you do, she deserves the truth. And what if she finds out? What will you say to her then? Once she thinks that you completely lied to her all this time, that you played her?”

  “It’s not like that,” he says.

  But it is, it’s completely like that, and he knows it.

  He reaches a hand to the back of his neck. “Besides, who’s going to tell her? You’re the only one who knows.”

  “And Emmett. And it doesn’t take much for one little slip.”

  Just as the words leave her mouth, Callie enters the living room. Dean sucks in a sharp breath, waiting to see if she heard any of the conversation, but she says nothing, and before she can get any closer, Jinny steps up to him. “Tell her,” she whispers. Then, moving away from him, she says to Callie, “Ugh. I’m going to pretend that you’re not wearing Dean’s T-shirt.”

  Callie chuckles. The large shirt nearly dwarfs her. And as she holds the cotton up to her nose and inhales, she says, “It smells like him.”

  Dean tries to swallow as he watches her but finds it impossible. Fear swells his throat nearly closed as he stands there, his heart in his hands.

  Fuck. Why does Jinny have to always be right? He needs to tell Callie, and he will. When the time is right…and soon.

  * * *

  They enter the party. Leave it to Jason to host it at his parents’ mansion just outside the city. He’s surprised the asshole’s willing to risk spilled beer on the Persian rugs.

  Music pumps through the massive living room—some fast up-tempo beat Dean doesn’t recognize. The lights are all off, save for a few blacklights Jason must’ve had installed just for the occasion. These weren’t some cheap party-shop lights like most students have, but something more reserved for the stages of a rock concert. Beside him, Callie and Jinny squeal as they dance their way through the packed room. There must be a hundred people here. Maybe more, and as Dean makes a beeline for the kitchen where he sees a group of his teammates huddled around a keg, an uneasy feeling lurches up his spine.

  “Bro!” Emmett screams, sloshing beer over the rim of his red plastic cup.

  Dean leans toward him and gives him a fist bump, then turns to his other friends and teammates, shaking hands with some and nodding at others.

  “Everyone, this is Callie, my girlfriend. Callie, this is everyone—Ron, Joe, Nick, Jamar, Chris, Charleton. And of course, you know Emmett.”

  He glances down at Callie, who says hello, and for a moment he’s mesmerized. The black sequined tank top she wears—to counteract the heat produced in a packed room of partying, dancing college kids—sets off the wave of blonde hair that falls over her shoulders. Knowing Callie, the artfully ripped skinny jeans she’s wearing probably cost a fortune, not to mention the knee-high black boots. But if you ask him, they’re well worth the investment.

  Damn, how they hug every curve…

  “Well, this party just took a dive in the gutter. What, no introductions for me?” Jason saunters into the room. His dark hair’s slicked back from his face and he’s wearing some lame-ass blazer and jeans. “I’m hurt, Michaels,” he says, frowning. “Really.”

  Dean’s arms flex as he locks his jaw. Callie must notice his stance because she begins to trail a finger down his back, calming him.

  Grabbing a bottle of wine from the counter, Jason adds, “Don’t worry. I’m just passing through. I’ll be sure to tell Maya you’re here, though.” Then, with a wink, he exits the room.

  “Fucking prick,” Dean says between his teeth. His pulse pounds in his temples and he can feel the heat of anger pumping through his veins, but in the next second Callie’s standing on her toes, catching his gaze, centering him. She gives him a quick kiss and he’s able to wrap his arms around her waist without feeling like he wants to kick the crap out of somebody.

  Bending his mouth to her ear, he whispers, “We should’ve just stayed home.” Smiling when she shivers in his arms, he continues, “Just you. Me. An empty apartment…” But before he can finish, Emmett’s pushing between them like a bull.

  “Now that the two most beautiful chicks have arrived, this party just got real,” Emmett says, smiling. Turning, he stretches his arms to encompass both Callie’s and Jinny’s shoulders.

  “Get off,” Jinny says, shoving at his arm. “God, what are these things made out of? Cinder blocks?” With a grunt she manages to free her shoulders, then turns to Todd with a look that could freeze lava.

  “Some other dude just put his arm around your girl. Aren’t you going to say something? Knock him on his ass?”

  Todd just shrugs and says, “He looks harmless.”

  “Yeah, so is a python.” With a grunt of irritation, she grabs Callie’s arm and pulls her toward the expansive marble island. “Come on. Let’s see if they have something to drink in this joint other than beer. Surely that pretentious ass has some booze.”

  Emmett sidles up next to Dean and nods toward Todd. “What a tool.”

  “Yep,” Dean confirms, then they both lift their gazes to watch Callie and Jinny fuss over the cocktail bar.

  “Damn, Callie looks good tonight,” Emmett says, smiling.

  Slapping a hand on his best friend’s chest, Dean issues him a warning glare. “Watch it, man. I’d hate to have to beat you in front of my sister and embarrass your dumb ass.”

  Emmett guffaws. “Shit.” Then he turns to him and slaps a hand on his shoulder. “No. Seriously, bro. I’m happy for ya, man. You did it. It’s been real. I’ve loved every second of being your friend, and I’ll be sad to see ya go.”

  Dean rolls his eyes. “What the hell are you talking about?”

  He snickers and backs away. “You’re gonna be so whipped that I’ll probably have to call Callie to see if you can pencil me into your schedule.”

  Dean smirks at him and rolls his eyes while Emmett flashes the peace sign and exits the room, no doubt in search of available women, leaving Dean thinking: After seven years, being whipped doesn’t sound so bad.

  * * *

  An hour and several drinks later, Callie’s wrapping her arms around Dean’s neck, moving her hips to the music and dancing with him despite the fact that he isn’t actually moving his feet. It’s clear she’s feeling good—nowhere near drunk—but the couple mixed drinks she’s consumed have had an effect. Not that he minds. Watching her prattle on over the past hour, talk to his friends, dance, and goof off with his sister has taken the edge off the evening, almost making Dean forget any apprehension about being at a party thrown by his one and only enemy.

  He takes the last sip of his beer, and when he notices Callie has stopped dancing he frowns. “What’s wrong?”

  “Bathroom,” she says, jumping from foot to foot, like she just now realized she has to pee.

  Chuckling, Dean grabs her arm as she tells Jinny she’ll be right back and leads her through the throng of people, out into an expansive hallway to a door that’s slightly ajar. The light is on, so he steps back and waves Callie on. She pushes it open right in time to see a girl crouched over the toilet, puking up what appears to be an entire keg of beer.

  Yelping, Callie jumps back and turns to him, her nose wrinkled.

  “Ugh,” Dean says. “Come on. There’s gotta be a million bathrooms in this place.” He grabs her hand a
nd leads her clear to the back of the hall, then makes a right.

  “Do you think we should be down here?” Callie asks.

  Dean shrugs and keeps walking. Coming to a stop, he knocks lightly on a closed door, then opens it to discover it’s nothing more than a closet. He does this twice more, but on the third try discovers a massive bedroom the size of Callie’s entire apartment.

  Dean walks inside. “There’s gotta be a bathroom in here,” he says. Then, “Bingo.” But when he turns around, Callie’s leaning against the now closed door. Her blue eyes twinkle with amusement and she has a smirk on her face that could set the room ablaze.

  Slowly, she walks over to him, making his heart pump wildly. A ball of fire fists in his stomach as he watches her approach. When she does, she stops just short of him and trails a finger down his chest, then leans in close and says, “Maybe later we can come back and test that bed.” She glances over at the California King, then, removing his baseball cap, puts it backwards on her own head and wraps her arms around his neck.

  Grinning, Dean lowers his mouth to hers and kisses her. “Promise?”

  “Promise,” she whispers as she nips his lip. Then, bouncing backward, she says, “But first, I have to pee,” and all but runs into the bathroom and closes the door.

  Laughing, Dean sits back on the bed. Just like Callie. Sexy, cute, and funny all at once.

  When she opens the door a couple seconds later, she’s smiling ruefully at him. “Better?” he asks.

  “Totally.”

  Grabbing her hand, he tries to open the door to the room, but it’s stuck. He jostles the doorknob a moment, but it still doesn’t budge.

  “I didn’t lock it,” Callie says.

  “It’s just jammed.”

  “Maybe later is coming sooner than we thought,” she says, turning to him, her eyes full of mischief.

  Before she can even get in the first kiss, there’s a knock on the door and it suddenly opens to a girl who peeks her head in the door. “Sorry, but is there a bathroom in here?”

  “It’s all yours,” Dean says, pulling Callie outside. “The door jams,” he warns the girl behind them.

  They make their way back down to the dance floor, where Jinny’s standing waiting for Callie’s return with a bored-looking Todd. “Let’s dance,” she says, despite Todd’s puppy dog expression.

  Dean watches for a moment, realizing the beer has gotten to him as well. He taps Callie on the shoulder. “Hey, I’m gonna run back up and go, too,” he says, shaking his empty cup for emphasis.

  “You want me to come?” Callie asks. She’s still wearing his baseball cap. It’s crooked and falling over one eye.

  Smiling, he shifts it so she can see. “No. Stay here and dance. I’ll be right back.”

  He kisses her on the forehead, then picks his way back through the crowd and hurries down the hallway, opening the closed bedroom door he just entered moments ago with Callie. He makes a beeline for the bathroom, relieved that it’s empty, noting that the door to the room clicked shut behind him.

  Damn it. Shrugging, he relieves himself in the bathroom, then exits. It’s not until he’s back at the door to the room that he realizes he’s not alone.

  He can feel the presence in the prick of the hairs on his neck. And he knows in an instant it’s her.

  Muttering an oath under his breath, he turns to face Maya, his back to the door.

  “Still playing games?” she asks as she gets up from the bed and walks toward him. But her gait is unsteady.

  “What do you want, Maya?”

  “Just to talk.”

  “Fine, but you’re drunk. Let’s do it outside.” Because there’s no way in hell I’m going to get caught alone in here with you.

  Without waiting for her response, he turns and jostles the doorknob, which of course is stuck. He jiggles it again, but it only gives partway and he can’t open the door.

  She moves so that she’s directly behind him, and though he can’t see her, he can hear her breathing, and it’s making him nervous. He wants out of here. He wants to be back downstairs with Callie—watching her dance circles around him and fixing his hat on her head.

  “It’s no use,” Maya says. “I tried it, too. It won’t open, except from the outside. Why do you think I was just sitting in here?”

  Shit. Shit. Shit. He repeats it in his head like an oath and fights the urge to kick the door. Sweat beads down the back of his neck as he reaches into his pocket. He pulls out his phone and dials Callie’s number, hoping she will hear it ring over the music, hoping she doesn’t think he purposely locked himself in a room with Maya.

  Turning, he punches in her number and hits send, then says, “I’ll just call—”

  Maya crushes her mouth over his, knocking him back into the door before he can even react. Pushing her away, he holds her out—as far away from himself as possible. “Maya, I’m here with—”

  She lunges at him again and he pushes back, but this time she expects it and somehow manages to keep her mouth locked on his. Her nails dig into his arms, clawing him, and she’s clinging to him like a leech. The only thing he can do to pry her off of him is to grab a fistful of her hair and pull, while he turns his head away, but not before the door opens and his entire world falls apart. Because standing in the doorway is Callie, slack-mouthed, her wide blue eyes rimmed with the pain of betrayal.

  She tries to turn and leave, but he stops her. “No. Callie, wait. The door was stuck and Maya forced herself on me, but I pushed her back. I pushed her away from me.”

  Callie turns to him, her eyes flashing. “Yeah. It looks like you were just begging her to stop. God, how could I be so stupid?” She curls her hands in her hair, knocking his cap off her head.

  Anger, he can handle. Anger, he can reason with. But it’s the sob that tears through her chest next that kills him.

  She covers her hands over her face, tears falling freely from her eyes. “This whole time you’ve just been playing both of us. To think that I actually believed that you meant what you said, that you loved me.”

  “No. Callie, I did.” Her tears are like knives to his heart, and he reaches out and places his hand under her chin. “I meant every word.”

  “Don’t touch me!” She jumps back, recoiling from his touch, and it hurts worse than anything he can imagine.

  A crowd of spectators starts to form behind her. The sound of her scream, drawing them in like this is a show and not his life falling apart. Callie tries to squeeze through, but she’s trapped.

  “Please,” he says, taking a step toward her. “You don’t understand.”

  “Stop! Don’t you dare come any closer. This is what you wanted all along. You wanted Maya, you wanted to make her jealous. You wanted to win her back, and I was just like some inconvenient hazard of the job. Well, I won’t have you feeling sorry for me just because I’m dumb enough to fall for you.”

  Her words, the agony on her face, is like a sledgehammer to his heart.

  Callie turns to the crowd, thrashing her way through them, and they oblige her broken heart. But for him, they’re like a brick wall. He tries to go after her. Tries to reason with her to come back, but it’s no use. She’s already gone, swallowed by a sea of strangers.

  Turning, Dean looks for Maya, his fury blinding him and making it hard to see. Because she’s to blame.

  This is all her fault. He repeats it over and over. Though, he knows that it isn’t. It’s his—for coming up with this stupid charade in the first place, for not telling Callie the truth. For screwing every damn thing up.

  He drops to his knees, feeling the hollow place in his chest where his heart used to be. Just like that, in the breath of a second, the only real dream he ever had has slipped away.

  More Claiming Callie

  Part four in the Claiming Callie serial releases in October!

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