If Only (Captured) Page 10
Twenty Three: Callie
“Su, can you come here a minute, please?” I call out through my open bedroom door.
“What’s up?” she asks, on entry.
“Which one?” I point to the two outfits laid out on my comforter. Option one is some black skinny jeans and a white asymmetric shirt; simple and sexy with a bit of a funky edge. Option two is an indigo spaghetti dress, tight fitting and it ends mid thigh; not as simple and way more sexy.
“The dress,” she says, heading for the wicker chair at the foot of my bed. “Are you ready for this, Callie?”
“I don’t know. I don’t want to go, but it’s too late to get out of it now.” I stare down at my clothes. If I look as miserable as I feel then I need to pull myself together, and fast, I only have thirty minutes.
“I don’t know why you agreed to it, you never wanted to go.”
“I have to try and move on, and Michelle’s been begging me for this. I’m giving into four weeks of pressure.”
“Never thought I’d see the day you go on a blind date.”
I laugh, though, I can’t quite find the humor to accompany it, but if I don’t laugh I’ll cry. “I just hope he knows what he’s in for.” I loosen out the bath towel I have wrapped around me and put on my purple lace boy shorts. One foot propped on the bed, I start to rub citrus scented lotion on my leg.
“I feel nervous and it’s not even me. Are you nervous?”
“Not yet, I probably won’t be. I just wonder if he likes platinum-blondes with pink highlights.”
“Will you kiss him?”
“Su, how could you even think that? It’s a first date,” I say, with a mock frown. I chuckle at myself. “I sound like I’m back in high school. If he’s hot then yes, but if he’s not – no way. There’s nothing wrong with kissing, but I will not fuck him. I’ll be stoked if he’s cute, I’d like to make out with someone. It’s been forever.”
“Six weeks is not forever.”
“Easy for you to say, I heard you and Zack in the shower this morning. I’m totally jealous of you. I don’t think I like single life.”
“You’ll be snapped up in no time. Maybe Eddie will be just right for you and you can get some lip action. Text me first chance you get.”
“Eddie! I do not like that name.”
Su giggles. “Callie and Eddie,” she teases. I cringe.
I pull on my dress and check myself in my full-length mirror.
“Tight and sexy,” Su says, grinning with approval.
“Too much for a first date?A blind-fucking-date?”
She laughs. “No way, it’s perfect for it. There’ll be the four of you anyway, so that’ll help.”
“I wouldn’t have agreed otherwise, it was one of my conditions. That, plus he knows what I look like.” I step into my black stilettos. “Hair up or down?” I ask.
“Lemme do it in that twisted up style for you.”
I gather my accessories and comb and sit on the floor by the chair. Su shifts to position herself so that I’m between her legs. “Do you want your bangs down?” she asks.
“Yes, please. I wonder if Eddie likes women with brow-skimming bangs. And funky hair colors. And tattoos and piercings – not that he’ll be seeing those. Guys who wear suits for a living don’t dig chicks like me. I never had to think about this when I was with Nick. I must be insane putting myself through tonight.”
In the art gallery where I work part-time, my colleague has decided I’d be perfect for her boyfriend’s friend. This week I gave in and now I’m spending my Friday night on a blind date foursome. I don’t have a problem with the way I look, but it’s not as if the guy has picked me, we’re being set up. He probably doesn’t approach women who look like me when he goes out to fancy bars.
“All done and please stop worrying,” Su says, and right on cue a car horn beeps from outside. “Who’s the designated driver?”
“Michelle, but if I hate it I’ll be getting a cab back within two hours. How’s my makeup?”
“Perfect.” She hugs me tight.
I grab my jacket and clutch and leave.
I wake up to a too bright room, instantly squeezing my eyes shut. I didn’t close my curtains, when I got in last night, and now the unwelcome daylight is shining through. I drag the comforter up over my face and go for the opening my eyes thing again. I didn’t even get drunk. Maybe it’s the lack of sleep that’s got me feeling shitty. Or the broken heart – the one I fully deserve.
A light rap sounds at my door. “Come in,” I say, peeling back my cover.
Su peeps in. “You’re awake.” She walks in and sits in her usual spot, in the white and red wicker chair. I stack my pillows, propping myself up to see her better. “So,” she says, putting her feet up on the seat and hugging her knees to her chest, “your text said cute. Tell me more.”
“I was pleasantly surprised by Eddie. He was everything I expected, but sweet. Blond with nice brown eyes and athletic, he surfs. He’s the first fair-haired guy I’ve ever dated.”
“Did you make out?”
I nod.
“Good?”
Another nod.
Su giggles. “You made out with Eddie.” We both chuckle.
“Yeah, it was nice. He was nice.”
“Seeing him again?”
“He wants to. I took his cell phone number and said I’d call.”
“Will you?”
I shrug, unsure. “I’ll think about it. I need to be certain it’s what I want and I’m not at the moment.”
“Just do what feels right, okay. What’s on your agenda today?”
“I have to give those photos to Saffron from last Saturday night. I’m meeting her at BlackArt at one. If you didn’t have your hair appointment you could’ve come, we could all do lunch. I can’t wait to see you with a blonde bob, you’re gonna look super hot.”
An eyebrow arches, approvingly. “Why, thank you. At least I can test the theory about blondes for myself, right?”
“Well, in my personal six-week experience, as an almost-blonde, it sucks!”
She wriggles my toes through the comforter. “That’ll change soon. Let’s have breakfast together. I’ll make pancakes while you shower.”
After my filling breakfast, I sit at my desk with my laptop fired up and ready for the transfer of Saffron’s photos to disc. The first one to pop up on screen is of Joe, which isn’t a surprise to me. Somehow, whenever I’m around him, and I have my camera, most of the pictures I take are of him. Apart from him being the embodiment of absolute perfection, he is ridiculously photogenic, too. I love to capture him when he’s deep in conversation with someone, or doing something that distracts him.
Most of the time it’s like that; Joe snapped unaware.
In this shot he’s talking to Dane at the bar, Jack in hand, and he’s finger combing his hair back from his forehead. He does that a lot, it’s a subconscious habit. He’ll push back his gorgeous ink-black strands and they instantly return to their rightful place, either side of his face, like open silk drapes. The back isn’t long, but the front skims his cheekbones.
The next image is an adorable one of Adam and Saffron. He was saying something in her ear, and she’s smiling as she listens to him. They’re an inspiring couple, so strong and in love, still after so many years together. There are some group photos, of the seven of us, and many of the dancers Saffron hired, ice sculptures and people in body paint. It was a great night, but it always is when she’s the one running the show.
Everything is transferred now, and my embarrassing excess of Joe goes into my secret folder. I would hate for anyone to discover how many shots I have of him in there. I’ve never counted them, I can’t bring myself to, but there are a lot, for sure. Seven years is a long time to know someone, especially when you see them all the time.
I don’t even need images of him on the computer, I have his face memorized to exactness and I’m familiar with every expression he’s capable of. I know his happy face, when
he smiles with both his mouth and his eyes, white teeth gleaming. His angry face, when he’s so pissed he can barely find the words, though, that’s a rare one. I know when he’s deep in thought and when he’s stressed, that’s a rare one, too, and I know when he’s simply content. My favorites are his happy face and his content face. Oh, and his concentration face – it’s so sexy. He always has that one when he’s doing a tattoo. I love to watch him ink.
I love to watch him, period!
Shit, I’ll be late if I don’t leave now. Ridding myself of my robe, I quickly scrape my hair up into a ponytail and put on my long denim halter dress and tennis shoes. I grab my cream cardigan, my purse, Saffron’s disc, and I leave.
Saffron meets me at the door of BlackArt. Joe, Adam and Noah are all with clients. Joe is tattooing some guy’s forearm and he has his cute concentration face on. He glances over at me, as though he sensed me, and smiles. I beam and wave back.
We sit at a table outside the coffee shop next door. It’s reasonable weather with only a slight breeze playing on the air and hints of blue sky peeping out between the clouds. There’s enough sun exposure to keep the chill at bay. I shrug out of my cardigan and start flipping through a magazine someone left behind, while Saff checks out the photos on her laptop.
“Callie, these are great. You do it every time,” she says, once she finishes.
“I loved the ice sculptures, by the way.”
“Thanks, I knew you would.”
“Su said you can’t make camping on Thursday.”
She tucks her short, purple-highlighted hair behind her ears. “No, Tracy really needs my help at an opening, and I owe her. I didn’t mind so much cuz it’s only one night and we’ll catch up to you guys at the house. Friday will be awesome, Adam’s hired us a boat for the day.”
“Really? I was already excited. This is perfect timing for me, it can’t come soon enough.” I relax back in my chair, delighted with the additional plans ahead.
“Why’s that?” Saffron asks.
“Ladies,” a familiar voice booms.
We look over at Gerard, who’s just about to walk into BlackArt. “Hey,” we both reply.
“We’ll talk later,” I tell Saffron. She closes her laptop and starts putting it into her bag, and I return my attention to the abandoned mag. “The Commitment Test: Are You a Commitment-Phobic?” I say, reading out the article title I’ve just reached. “I’ll quiz Gerard on this, even though we know the answer already. He’ll score zero to ten, making him a phobic, for sure.” Saffron chuckles as she sips her latte.
“Drinks?” Gerard asks, as he and Joe join us. I nod a yes, but Saff’s only just started hers. He goes inside the coffee shop, and Joe sits with us.
On Gerard’s return, I slide the magazine to him, sitting across from me. “I’ve got a little somethin’ for you to do.” I take a taste of my iced lemon tea as he scans the pages.
“Bring it on,” he says, enthusiastically, his grin characteristic of the Cheshire cat, as always. He’d probably be disappointed if he scored high.
Joe is to my right and I can smell him, he smells of mild soap and him. Over the years I’ve mastered the fine art of checking out the beautiful man without anyone, including him, knowing. So while the three of them are occupied with the test, I let my gaze roam freely.
His elbows are pointing outwards, resting on the table, finger tips light against the espresso cup. My admiration travels from his gorgeous, talented hands, up his strong, inked arms, and rests on his biceps and shoulders, nice and snug under his white T-shirt.
The man is fucking delectable!
He finger combs back his hair and it plays out in slow motion. At least, in my head it does, anyway. Heat sizzles through me and I discretely smile to myself, loving the effect he has on me. The only thing Joe could give me that would surpass that feeling is an orgasm.
Ah, I wish.
I inhale his scent again and watch as he presses his soft lips to the rim of his cup. My gaze clings to the movement of his Adam’s apple as he swallows. Now his tongue peeps out and slides between his lips. I want to taste his tongue. I want to suck it. With a deep yearning, I sigh at the thought.
“Callie’s a commitment-phobe,” Gerard states, breaking into my moment of lustful bliss. “Nick’s asked her to live with him how many times? Over seven years with the guy and she still won’t. If that’s not a phobia then I don’t know what is.”
“I’m not a commitment-phobe,” I say, trying to figure out how this came to be about me, and from Gerard of all people.
“So why’d you end it with him all those times when things started to get heavy? You’re supposed to love him.”
What were they talking about? “It’s not as simple as that.” Seriously, how did we end up here? Maybe I should’ve read the entire quiz first.
He rolls his eyes, shaking his head, dismissing my response. “The guy’s crazy about you, Callie. It seems simple to me. You love each other, you’re together for years, he asks you to move in, you move in.” He shrugs his shoulders, convinced of the simplicity of it all. In most cases he’d be right, for most couples it is that straightforward. “Instead,” he continues, with his sky-blue eyes piercing mine intently, “you get a place with your best friend and her husband.” He goes silent. Nobody else is speaking either.
I wish I had some sunglasses with me, at least then I’d feel protected from the three pairs of eyes burning into me right now.
Gerard leans toward me, frowning like a scientist trying to crack a complicated formula, or determine the species of an unidentified living thing. “What about marriage then?”
“What about marriage?” I don’t like where this is going.
He props his chin on his fist, elbow on the table. “What will you do if he ever asks you? Is he showing any signs of asking the big question yet?”
“Since when were you the fucking expert on relationships, yours are non-existent? And why exactly are you kicking my ass today?” I’m working to keep my tone level now.
“I’m not kicking your ass, I’m just askin.’ It’s only because we’re on the topic and this question relates to you.”
What question? “Yeah, well don’t. Relate it to someone else,” is the best I can come up with.
“Okay, I’ll drop it. Just answer me one thing,” he says, holding up his forefinger.
I don’t say anything, I just look at him. He doesn’t know it, but he’s really getting under my skin. That isn’t usually an easy thing to do, but this couldn’t have come at a worse time for me. I’ve never wanted to punch Gerard before, but I do now, right in the freakin’ gut.
I sigh, defeated. “What?”
“Would you marry Nick if he asked you?”
Whoa, of all the shitty questions.
“Well?” he pushes, both brows rising in question.
Tell them or lie, tell them or lie? Shit. “No.”
“So, you’d say no?” he asks, as though he’s solved his formula, or determined whatever the fuck I am. I’d love to slap that victorious grin off his face.
“Yes. You’re such a fuck, you fucking fucktard.”
“What?” he asks, with his arms stretched out to the sides.
I know he didn’t intend on pissing me off, but he sure has. “I wouldn’t say yes. That’s none of your business, and it doesn’t make me a commitment-phobe. I’m not.” I’m trying hard not to boil over. Or cry. Or do both. I want to do both. No one is saying a word and that’s making things worse. How did this all end up on me? I don’t look at a single one of them. Instead, I reach for my iced tea and take a sip.
“Okay, I’ll drop it, firecracker. But if you won’t live with him, or marry him, then what’s the point? That does sound like a problem, if you ask me. You profess to love the guy. Girl, you’ve got issues. I think we have a commitment-phobe here, people.” He winks at me, his lips curving teasingly.
“Issues? I’ve got fucking issues?” I slam my glass down on the table and stand up.
I pull away. “No, I won’t.” I unhook my purse from the arm of my chair and grab my cardigan. “I’ve got other things to do.” I feel tense in my gut and the best thing I can do is leave.
Without saying a word of goodbye, to any of them, I walk away.
Twenty Four: Joe
“Go after her, please, Joe. Gerard and I need to have a word,” Saffron says, staring him in the eyes.
“When did she become so oversensitive?” he asks, truly dumbfounded. I’d like to know that, too.
I get up out of my seat and head after Callie, who’s nearing the corner. There’s a whole lot of furious going into that stomp of hers. Speeding up, I catch up to her as she turns onto the next street. “Callie, wait.”
“I don’t want to talk, Joe,” she says, through gritted teeth. So maybe Gerard was a bit of an asshole, prying like that, but I don’t get why she’s this pissed. He’s said a lot worse to her in the past, just as she has him. They fight, but they don’t fall out, and she doesn’t get offended and walk away.
“I want to talk. Why are you so upset?” I grasp her elbow.
“What’s the point?” she shouts, yanking her arm out of my grip. She turns to face me. “He’s made up his mind about me and no doubt you all have, too. Bit of a fucking double standard, though, you asses don’t fucking do commitment. Why do I have to be the commitment-phobe?” she asks, stabbing her forefinger at her chest.
This is insane. “No one else has said anything, no one else thinks that. He doesn’t even think that, he was just teasing you. You’re overreacting.”
She shakes her head firmly. “He wouldn’t have said it if he didn’t mean it. When’s the last time any of you had a real relationship? Why am I the bad person? You, Dane and Gerard, you’re all full of shit.”
“Hey, I am not your enemy, Baby cake.” I’m using that name in an attempt to add a soft edge to this conversation, and calm her down, because she’s shouting, and now I’m working to keep my voice even. We’ve never said a hard word to each other before, but she’s damn angry, and I feel like I’m being pushed. At what point did I piss her off? “You need to calm down.” I succeed at keeping my cool.