Bashful Read online

  Good job, Chevrolet.

  Before I pulled out of the parking lot, I sent a quick message to Evie.

  Callie: Is he there?

  Evie: Oh, he’s here. If he continues to drink all the vodka he can get his hands on, he’s going to wake up with a Russian accent. You were supposed to find him and say sorry. Why don’t you listen to me, woman? I’m the relationship guru now.

  Yes, this month of having a boyfriend has made you Dr. Love.

  Callie: I didn’t have the chance. I’m on my way now, see you soon <3

  I put the car in drive, ignoring her response until I parked. The party was in the same apartment complex as mine, and I was thankful I could imbibe tonight without worrying about getting an Uber.

  Evie: Btw, love...I hate to tell you this, but Bash brought a date. He’s pretty cute, too.

  My stomach dropped at that piece of information. As much as I appreciated Evie giving me the heads-up, I wasn’t prepared for a date. My plans included groveling and joking to get Bash and I back on good terms, not putting on a show while he was all over some guy.

  I approached the apartment building, voices and music guiding me to the correct door. No one would hear me knocking over the noise, so I pushed down the latch. The door opened and I was met by friends, scattered in clusters throughout the main living area and kitchen, red cups in hand.

  “Gang’s all here!” Tucker shouted, pushing himself off the arm of the crowded couch. “Finally! You ready for some libations?”

  Nodding, Tucker moved into the kitchen to find me something, anything, to take the edge off. Scanning the room, it seemed that almost everyone from the cast and crew were in attendance. Opening night had always been our choice for cast parties, since the next performance wasn’t until twenty-four hours later. Plenty of time to recover if needed.

  We’d all heard the stories from years ago, when they held them on Saturday nights. Everyone would get smashed and half the cast too sick to perform in the Sunday matinee. Rumor was, the old head of the theatre department tried to cancel cast parties altogether, but since they weren’t school sanctioned, he couldn’t do anything about it. Thankfully, someone decided to move it, and now we could have hangovers in peace.

  Two props-department girls vacated the cramped couch and I made a beeline for the empty spot. I sank into the worn cushion, adjusting my posture before I fell deeper.

  Bash came stumbling into the room from the hallway, one arm draped over a guy with a mop of copper-colored hair.

  “Babe, I love you,” he slurred, reaching for the wall and missing.

  I watched in slow motion as he went down, his knees hitting the carpet before his face had the chance.

  Fuck. My. Heart.

  Babe. I love you.

  Well, I guess this was the mystery boyfriend I’d been worrying about all year. I can’t believe he had the nerve to bring his boyfriend to our cast party. Twisting the knife further, unshed tears pooled at the corners of my eyes as his date helped him up and to the couch—right fucking next to me.

  “Stay,” he said, holding his palm up in front of Bash’s face. “I’m going to get you some water and aspirin. We need to sober your ass up a bit before heading home. No way are you puking in the Jeep.”

  I stiffened. Bash brushed his arm against mine as he settled, letting out a deep breath and lolling his head before his focus found my face.

  “Oh, it’s you,” he garbled, lifting his index finger to my face before tapping me on the nose. “Boop.” His breath reeked of alcohol, and he was being obnoxious. Why the hell was he so trashed? And how did his boyfriend and Tucker let him get this far? He stood up, struggling to maintain balance.

  “Jesus, Bash. Sit back down, you’re a freaking mess,” I explained, guiding him next to me.

  He scrubbed his face, mumbling something that sounded a hell of a lot like “it’s all your fault,” under his breath before yelling for Tucker.

  “TUCK! Tell Callie why I’m so wasted,” he shouted.

  Tucker rushed over with my drink, shoving it into my hands before kneeling in front of Bash. “Brother, I love you, but you need to stop. Leave it alone tonight. Don’t do this here.”

  I put my hand on Tucker’s shoulder, crouching down when he diverted his attention to me.

  “He said it was my fault, Tuck. What’s my fault?”

  Before he could answer, the ginger barreled back into the wonderful scene we’d made, a bottle water in hand.

  “Open wide,” he demanded, popping two pills into Bash’s mouth before unscrewing the cap and handing it over.

  “That’s what he said.” Tucker laughed.

  My dirty look shut him up right quick. I was breaking, and not at all in the mood for jokes.

  Bash groaned in front of us, using his arms to push off the couch again.

  “SHOTS! Let’s do some shots,” he yelled, his arm going over his head and pointing to the fifth of vodka on the counter.

  “You don’t need any more. You’ve had enough,” I scolded, following behind him.

  His date and Tuck stayed behind, whispering to one another as I took care of their friend. It was obvious he wasn’t mine anymore.

  He poured way more than a shot’s worth of booze into a plastic cup and brought it to his lips, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he took a swig. “You know what, Callie—I have had enough. Enough of this back and forth bullshit, enough of having to be around you twenty-four-fucking-seven. It’s torture.”

  Alcohol sloshed from the cup as he spread his arms wide, coating the sleeve of his thermal and spilling onto the floor. He charged into my space. His vodka-laced breath brushed my ear while he gritted out words I knew were coming. “Nothing’s ever going to fucking change, Callie,” he said with malice. “It’s about time we get the hell over it.”

  Evie materialized behind me, pulling me backward as Garrett stepped in between Bash and me. Tucker and the boyfriend stood behind their drunken idiot at the ready for whatever was about to go down.

  God, this whole party had turned into West Side Story.

  Everyone in the room actually made room to witness the shit-show that was going on. Freaking theatre majors.

  “You need to back up, man.”

  Bash squinted at Garrett, his head tilting slightly to the side with glassy eyes.

  “Hey, you’re not Callie.” He laughed, turning to Tucker and whispering. “There’s hair on his face. Callie doesn’t have hair on her face. Right, Tucker?”

  Tucker’s jaw dropped as Bash mumbled something else about hair before pointing a finger inches from Garrett’s face. I put a mental bonus point on Garrett’s good-guy list for being so patient. If I were him, I would’ve already thrown a punch.

  “That’s—that’s not who I was talking to. Where’d she go? I wasn’t done talkin’ to her.”

  Thirty-Two

  “NO, HE’S RIGHT,” I SAID to Evie. “He’s right. I’m pathetic, and I need to stop.”

  Grabbing my coat from the pile in the corner, I quickly zipped and fished my keys from my pocket. It was time to go.

  “He’s drunk, love. No one is right when they’re drunk,” Evie tried.

  I wish she wasn’t so damn supportive, not right now, when all I wanted to do was get the hell out of here and away from Bash.

  “Well, you know what they say—drunk words are sober thoughts. He wants nothing to do with me or my bullshit.”

  And then it hit me.

  Bash had known about my infatuation with him this entire time. He strung me along on purpose.

  He was a narcissist, enjoying the attention until my entertainment wasn’t enough anymore. He and his babe probably sat at home and laughed about my pathetic crush—planning out the best scenarios to humiliate me before he’d lay the final blow and end it once and for all. Rage coursed through my veins as I changed my mind, downing the drink I set on the coffee table.

  Stomping over to him, I yanked him hard by the sleeve.

  “Out-fucking-side, Seba
stian,” I yelled, throwing a dirty look toward Tucker, warning him not to question me. “Now.”

  Holding the balcony door open, I stared vacantly at the wall as minutes passed, Bash stumbling his way across the room. Once he crossed the threshold, I pulled the string and closed the blinds before slamming the door shut. I was going to say my piece, and the cast, crew, our friends, his stupid boyfriend...none of them needed to see it. Feeling the wall outside the door, my hand knocked a switch and flipped it. A small sconce bathed the porch in a soft orange glow, the bulb still warming in the cold air.

  “Why do you have angry face?” He tapped my nose, and if I were tall enough, I would have punched him square in the face for it. “You’re cute when you’re angry.”

  “Oh yeah? Then I’m about to be freaking gorgeous.”

  His brow furrowed as he backed up, his body bumping into the metal railing. “You’re already gorgeous,” he whispered, his hooded eyes flicking between me and the floor.

  I shoved my hands into my coat pockets, the cold air a contrast against my burning anger.

  “And you’re sweet, and fun, and—”

  His compliments meant nothing—just empty words.

  “No. Just shut up, Sebastian!” I shouted. “It’s my turn to talk.” I paced the small distance between one corner of the balcony to the other, considering my words.

  “You’re a user, doing whatever you can to make yourself feel good about yourself. I enabled it for a long time,” I said, laughing at my own stupidity. “And you know what? I’m better than that. I got so far down the rabbit hole that I didn’t see how much I lost of myself in the process.”

  I looked him square in the eyes, ready to rip off the Band-Aid.

  “I don’t need to scratch and claw my way back out of the damn rabbit hole, Bash, because this time, I’m jumping the fuck out.”

  He opened his mouth to speak, and I covered his mouth with my hand.

  “Don’t bother. You screwed up, I screwed up, everything is messy, and I can’t care anymore. Let’s just finish the play and be done with each other.”

  I stomped back inside, leaving him and my heart in the cold.

  J

  An hour and a half and five drinks later, I was still at the party, still stewing in my own anger.

  “We’re going to head out. You should, too. Want us to walk you back?” Evie asked, hand in hand with Garrett.

  I chugged the rest of my drink down to the ice. My buzz was strong after the last Long Island Iced Tea. “I’m good, you guys go home. It’s only a few buildings over.”

  Evie was wracked with worry. I could see it in her face. I rolled my eyes at her. I was a grown up, dammit. I could handle myself.

  “Seriously, go—I’m fine,” I said, shooing her. She pulled her phone from her purse and flicked a switch on the side.

  “I took it off silent, just in case you need me tonight.” She glanced toward the kitchen, where Bash had his head in his hands, Tucker and his boyfriend flanking either side. “He can hardly think straight, love. But from what I overheard, even this smashed, all he’s thinking about is you.”

  I watched her go, and in hindsight I should’ve taken her up on the offer to go home. I couldn’t go home alone, not now anyway. Too much buzz for too little body.

  A few more drinks would make my brain hazy. Maybe then I could fall asleep tonight.

  Getting up from the couch so quickly was probably not the smartest idea. I stumbled on the leg of the coffee table, and instead of pitching to the floor, I regained some semblance of how to work my own body, which resulted in a half jog across the room. Right into boyfriend’s back.

  “Sorry, so sorry,” I mumbled, looking at Tucker to convey the message.

  Boyfriend turned around.

  “It’s cool, Callie. It’s not the first time a chick has tried to cop a feel,” he said, holding out his hand. “I know we didn’t have the chance to meet earlier, but I’m a friend of Bash’s. I’m—”

  I don’t remember giving anyone permission to tell this guy my name.

  Bash turned his head just a fraction, just enough to see our interaction. He totally wanted me to play nice, see if I approved of his ginger-gentleman.

  Not happening. He could take my lack of approval and shove it up his ass.

  I seethed at him and held up my hand, effectively cutting him off. “Yeah, I know. Super nice to meet you,” I snapped. I wasn’t a bitch, but I wasn’t in the mood to play nice. I shoved past him to the counter, grabbing the fifth of rum and refilling my drink. “I’m going to take this one to go,” I said loudly, to whomever wanted to listen.

  “I’ll get my coat,” Tucker said. “You don’t need to walk by yourself in the dark. It’s not safe around here.”

  “What are you going to do, Tucker? Garrote my potential attacker with your suspenders?”

  “Wow. What the hell, Callie? I didn’t do shit to you.”

  Bash slammed his fist on the counter. “Fuck it, I’ll take her home. She’s already being a bitch to me. It’ll save you from her wrath.”

  Speechless, I walked toward the door, already itching to turn around and apologize to Tucker. I waited in the hallway for Bash, the cold air fogging with my breath.

  He pulled the door closed and started walking away. “Let’s go.”

  J

  I stayed two paces behind him the entire ten-minute walk back to my apartment and avoided brushing against him when I moved past to unlock the door. I was majorly buzzed and pissed off, and just wanted to sleep off this whole freaking night.

  “Thanks a lot for the walk.”

  “I’m coming in,” he announced before he walked through and unzipped his coat.

  “You can’t just barge in when I don’t want you here,” I screeched, following him. “I don’t want anything from you!”

  Bash closed the space between us, his arm going past my head and shutting the door behind me. His right arm went next to my side and slid the lock into place. Bringing his hands up to my neck, he slowly released the zipper of my jacket, tugging it down the length of my torso.

  “I don’t want anything from you, either. Neither of us gets what we want,” he whispered, his breath smelling of vodka and something citrusy. Mine surely smelled like rum, intermixing in the air between us, the combination heightening my buzz.

  I shoved him off, pulling the rest of the zipper down and chucking my coat God-knows-where. Bash kicked off his boots before surprising me from behind and lifting me at the waist.

  I pounded on his back when he threw me over his shoulder and started moving through the room. “Put me down, you asshole! I don’t need you to take care of me!”

  He groaned as I landed a pretty decent punch in his kidney area—I wasn’t really great at anatomy, but I’m pretty sure that’s where it was—and I kicked my legs for extra drama.

  He used his free hand to locate the light switch in my bedroom and flicked it on before tossing me onto my bed. Before I had time to sit up, he was barricading the door with his muscular frame.

  “Look, if you tell me to move or to get the hell out, then I will,” he said, crossing his arms. “But I’ve had enough of your shit, Calliope. Drunk or not, I’d never force you to talk to me if you didn’t want to. Please, though—just fucking hear me out, and I’ll do what you ask. I’ll leave you alone after the show is over.”

  I got up, crossing my arms to match his.

  I need a drink. Get a drink, get rid of Bash, get laid.

  Preferably in that order.

  Preferably all tonight.

  The clock said it was only midnight—I could get this conversation over with and still have time to find someone in my phone to booty text—even Tinder Jordan, if I was feeling extra desperate.

  “Jesus. Fine, but I’m getting something to drink first. Get out of my way.” I shoved past, walking back out to the kitchen to grab the rum from the fridge—one perk of Evie being at Garrett’s all the time was that the liquor stayed where I left it—an
d poured one for him, one for me. I chugged mine to quell the anger that was once again rising.

  “Speak,” I demanded, sitting on the opposite end of the couch as him. “I don’t know what else there is to say between us. You said it tonight. It’s all my fault.”

  “I said the reason I was getting trashed was your fault, and it was, Callie.”

  I slammed the empty glass on the table and stood up. I didn’t need this shit. “Great. Awesome talk. See you at the show tomorrow.”

  “I was drinking because I can’t get you out of my head! For fuck’s sake, will you stop being so goddamn stubborn and let me speak?”

  I stopped in my tracks but refused to turn and face him.

  “You have me all mixed up, Callie. I think about you before I fall asleep. I walk into every room and immediately look around to check if you’re there. Maybe you won’t get out of my head because you mean the most to me in the entire world and you don’t even fucking see it. You’re my best friend—but you’re so much more.”

  My heart fell into my stomach. I was so, so angry at him still, but every word dripped with sincerity. My skin heated.

  I should have just fucked my attraction for you out of my system, I thought.

  He turned me around and lifted my chin with his fingers.

  “What did you just say?”

  “I said that out loud?” I faltered. Shit. Tension corded in his neck as I tried to think of an explanation. Every thought came to a halt when his thumb brushed along my jaw. His lips skimmed my neck gently before he whispered into my ear.

  “Yes,” he said, tugging it between his teeth and sucking gently.

  Tingles fired in the wake of his kisses, pure adrenaline rushing to my core.

  Did he mean what I think he meant? He was buzzed—we both were.