“What happened? Why does it taste good?” That’s the thing about best friends – you could insult them without it going to heart. Callie was also honest with herself and knew she couldn’t cook.
“Well, thanks for the vote of confidence. I kept telling you I’d get it right one of these days,” Callie replied, waving her fork around in the air.
“Yeah, you did and watch what you’re doing with that fork.”
We ate the rest of the meal in silence then I poured us both a glass of wine, which we carried through to the living room along with the rest of the bottle. We got comfortable on the sofa with our feet resting up on the coffee table, the conversation and wine flowing easily between us. Before we knew it we were on our second bottle of wine.
“So who’s Ethan Rock?”
I frowned at her. “It took you long enough to ask.”
“You still haven’t answered.”
“Ethan Rock was the school jock, aka school asshole, who tried to get to third base in my tree house. It was cut short by my dad calling me,” I giggled. “I kneed him in the junk. He ended up rolling all over the floor in his shorts while I tried to hold a conversation with my dad without laughing. Ethan never spoke to me again.”
“Oh my God. How old were you?”
“Sweet sixteen,” I replied, starting to feel the effects of drinking nearly two bottles of wine with Callie.
“Nothing sweet about what you nearly did.” We fell into each other laughing.
After picking ourselves up from the floor, I walked into the kitchen for more wine and the cake I’d brought home with me from work.
“Here, share this with me.” I passed Callie a slice before sitting back down beside her.
“Why didn’t I get the job in the cake shop instead of the dry cleaners?”
“Because you have a sweet tooth. You’re skinny now; if you’d taken the job with the cakes you wouldn’t be able to walk through the door,” I teased my sulking friend.
“I thought you were my friend.”
“I am. That’s why I work in the cake shop and you don’t,” I laughed.
We both hated our jobs, which we considered slave labor, although I did have the slightly better one in the cake shop. Unfortunately today had been my last day. The cake shop was on campus, and only opened during the college semesters, whereas the dry cleaners where Callie worked was open twenty-four-seven, much to Callie’s constant dismay.
“Before you get too drunk to think, I want to know what’s going on between you and Liam… and don’t tell me nothing.”
I digested Callie’s question. How could I answer when, in actual fact, I had no idea? Over the past six months we’d been on a few dates and to the movies once or twice, but there was something missing. In honesty, I think if I hadn’t been so busy with my studies I would have said something to him, about the lack of closeness between us. He hadn’t even kissed me, other than a peck on the cheek. Liam was good company and rather entertaining so I’d just gone along with him as his ‘girlfriend’.
Callie was staring at me with the patience of a saint. Her long legs rested beside mine on the coffee table and she was slouched on the couch. Her eyes half closed in a lazy manner; blonde hair falling in disarray from the ‘up do’ she had going on from the morning.
“Liam is good looking, but he hasn’t tried to get into my pants; not even once. He’s kissed me, kind of, but no other touching...” I hesitated before blurting out, “I’m going home with him this summer.”
Callie choked on the swallow of wine she’d just taken, the red liquid staining her white top as her eyes widened in shock. “Are you crazy?”
“Probably,” I groaned.
Callie dabbed at her shirt as she stared at me looking flabbergasted.
“Look, you know I don’t want to go home.” I numbered out the reasons on my fingers. “All the summer jobs around here have already been taken. You’re going away with your family, and I don’t want to touch my savings. I can use some, but the majority I want to save; you know that.”
I avoided her gaze as I reaffirmed all my reasons for going. “Liam said his parents want him to bring me home. He also said, I’ll have my own room, and I do like him, but as a friend. To be honest I think that’s what he wants, although he keeps referring to me as his girlfriend.” I frowned.
“This can only end in disaster.” Callie sat up, her gaze serious, “What are you going to do if this is all a ruse to finally get in your panties? Because I can tell you’re not into him like that; though I doubt you ever were to begin with,” Callie finished, truth ringing in her words.
“Then I’ll deal with it, if, or when that happens,” I muttered.
Callie’s hard gaze bore into me, making me shift uncomfortably under it before she stifled a yawn with the back of her hand. “I need to get some sleep and don’t forget we’re going shopping in the morning,” she reminded me as she struggled up from the sofa and stumbled into her room.