Bashful Page 5

  I reminded myself to text Tucker later, to find out if Bash had seen the list yet. I walked backward a few steps before turning to the crowd, my happiness overpowering the worry at how I’d handle my costar situation.

  Accepting the hugs and words of encouragement from my fellow drama people, I walked out feeling 90 percent better than I did earlier in the day.

  Nine

  AFTER COMPLETING MY FINAL CLASS for the day, and since my homework load was minimal this week, I texted my parents to let them know I’d be home for dinner. I drove the forty-five minutes to my parents’ house to give them the good news in person. Brenda and Hank had always been incredibly supportive of my choice to pursue acting, my mom convinced that it was fate. She’d gotten her master’s degree in Greek Mythology, and when she found out she was pregnant with me, she convinced my dad to name me after the goddess of song, music, and dance. She insisted that the goddess Kalliope herself spoke to her through a dream, and since my dad would do anything to make my mom happy, he went with it. My parents were weird. Regardless, they both loved my gifts, but pounded into my head the importance of getting an education to hone it.

  I got off the freeway at their exit and remembered the conversation we’d had when I told them what I wanted to do with my life.

  “No shipping off to New York and secretly working as some lady of the night,” my dad said. “I know I’m not in with the cool-kid lingo, but my daughter won’t be Pretty-Womanizing her way to make ends meet while trying to get on that stage. You work hard at school, you’ll get results. Then you can become a big-city, famous girl.”

  Mom scrubbed the counters, blowing a piece of hair out of her face as she nodded in agreement. “Jesus, Hank, she’s not going to audition during the day and sell herself at night for money. She’ll just live in her car while surviving on peanut butter sandwiches. I’m sure she can work as an Uber driver to pay for the bread. Isn’t that right, Calliope?” She winked at me. She loved getting a rise out of him.

  “She will absolutely not sleep in her car.” His voice rose as his face turned a vibrant shade of red. “You’ll apply to schools, get your degree, and only then will we talk about helping you out with an apartment in New York.”

  “The apartment will be the size of a car, if she’s lucky,” my mom mumbled, laughing under her breath. “Same thing.”

  Opening the door, it was weird to realize my parents’ house didn’t feel like “home” anymore. Side effect of being a young adult, I guess. It didn’t stop my stomach from rumbling at the smell of Mom’s pot roast in the crock pot, filling the air with savory richness.

  “I’m here! Mom? Dad?” I called out, slinging my purse on the entry table. Receiving no response, I walked to the kitchen where they usually congregated after my mom got home from work. I picked up a note on the counter, reading my mom’s flitty cursive explaining they were out walking the dog and would be back soon. Snatching a can of soda out of the fridge, I made my way to my dad’s overstuffed recliner in the living room as my phone vibrated in the back pocket of my jeans.

  Unknown: Hey, is this Callie?

  Callie: Depends on who’s asking...

  Unknown: In that case, it’s that dude from Riverdale. You mentioned you liked him, right?

  Callie:......

  Not a lot of people knew about my obsession with Cole Sprouse. By not a lot of people, I didn’t count everyone who saw the multiple photos and gifs of him on my social media pages.

  Unknown: It’s Jordan—we met at the bar a week or two ago? I spilled my beer on you...

  Callie: Ah, Tinder Jordan. Hey! How are you? And yes, if you were Jughead, you’d definitely get a response.

  Jordan: Yikes. That’s quite the nickname. Lol. I was wondering if you were busy this Friday. I’d really love to take you out to dinner. Maybe you can tell me more about this Jughead guy I need to compete with.

  I smiled at his charm. As heartbroken as I felt, I knew that branching out with other people would help heal my bruised heart.

  Callie: I’d love that. Just so you know, though, no one compares to him.

  Jordan: Damn, girl. At least give me a chance. I’ll pick you up at seven?

  Callie: It’s a date.

  Smiling, I shot off the address to my apartment and sank further into the fluffy chair as my parents walked in the door. Our dog, Zeus, ran full speed at me and launched into my lap so hard the chair tipped over. I greeted him as his giant furry frame towered over me, assaulting my face and arms with dog licks.

  “Zeus! Zeus, you get off your sister right now, boy!” My mom roared and Zeus slunk away as my dad removed his jacket and strolled over, lifting his chair and patting the fabric down before helping me up.

  “Nice loyalty, Dad. Save the chair first,” I said, wiping the fur off my pants.

  He lifted one eyebrow and enveloped me in his arms. “At least I don’t call the dog your brother,” he said, staring at my mom. “That’s just not normal, Brenda.”

  My mom gaped at us like we were the weird ones, as she had all forty pounds of Zeus cradled in her arms like a baby. He licked her face relentlessly.

  “Don’t worry, boy. Your dad’s just jealous because you like me the most.”

  Completely weirded out, I looked back and forth between them.

  “Seriously, guys. I don’t know how I survived childhood.”

  Mom put the dog down and gestured me over. Wrapping an arm around my shoulders, we headed into the kitchen. I sat at the large oak table, scratching a worn spot in the wood with my fingernail as she lifted the lid off the roast.

  “So? What happened? I’ve been waiting all day to hear from you. Did you get the part?” She blew on the full wooden spoon in her hand before waving it in front of me.

  The chunk of pot roast was too tempting to pass up. I held a finger up, savoring the rich flavors as I chewed. My dad walked in the room and pulled plates down from a cabinet before setting them on the counter in front of my mom. I couldn’t lie—I missed this. Family dinners were few and far between, even though I was less than an hour away. It was nice to take a break from my version of the real world and just be loved on like a kid again.

  I swallowed, clearing my throat as my mom brought the plates to the table, each one piled high with delicious beef and root vegetables.

  “I got it! I’m Quinn!”

  Cheers and table-pounding erupted around me and Zeus came in with his entire back-half wagging to see what all the noise was about.

  “That’s amazing, honey! We’re so proud of you. We knew you could do it,” Dad said, slipping a chunk of meat under the table for the dog.

  “Thanks. I’m really excited. The guy playing Aidan—I don’t know if you remember him. Sebastian, from freshman year? I think you guys met him once or twice.”

  “Oh, yes, I think I remember him. He was the cute boy who went around the world, right?” My mother questioned me with a knowing glance as she poured a glass of wine for herself and handed a beer to my dad.

  Shoving a forkful into his mouth, my dad mumbled, “That the one who likes other fellas?”

  “Uh, yeah, I think so,” I replied uncomfortably. My father wasn’t homophobic, but he was old-fashioned and certain topics made him uncomfortable. He was accepting, but he was about a decade behind. “Unless you’re thinking of Tucker, Dad.” I brought the can of soda to my lips and sipped slowly, looking at my mom for some rescue from this weird conversation.

  “Maybe that’s the one,” he retorted. “I can never tell anymore.”

  “So, uh, Hank, why don’t you tell Callie about that new golf course you found?”

  Throughout the rest of dinner, I listened to my dad tell story after story about his life post-retirement. I loved my dad, but a girl can only take so many tales of golf and gun ranges before starting to doze off. After texting Evie that I was on my way, I kissed them goodbye and headed home, ready for a chill night at the apartment.

  Ten

  THE DRIVE HOME WAS STRESS-FREE and
I happily pulled my keys from the lock and tossed them into the small ceramic bowl on our entry table. The room was dim, save for a few fragrant candles and the pendant light shining from the kitchen. I almost peed myself when Evie popped out of the closet screaming, “HEYOOO!”

  “What the SHIT, Evie! You scared the crap out of me!” I shrieked and punched her in the arm. For real, she needed that Ex-Lax in her smoothie. It was going on the grocery list.

  She stepped back and rubbed her bicep before opening her arms, showcasing a humongous display of junk food on the counter like a gameshow girl. Evie walked to the freezer and pulled out multiple containers of ice cream, setting each one near the bags of unopened pretzels and chips on the counter.

  “I’m going to forgive you for that, because I know you’re sad. Now, let’s take a look at what’s on the docket for tonight.” She ripped a piece of paper off the magnetic fridge pad. “First, there’s an ice cream binge while we stare mindlessly at whatever’s currently airing on Bravo. Then, if you’re feeling up to it, we can move to wine or tequila while we rip that bastard apart.”

  “You mean Bash-tard?” I smirked.

  “See? Now you’re getting it. I knew I’d rub off on you eventually.”

  Five pints of cold deliciousness were displayed on the counter, spoons lying prettily at their sides. Only my best friend would go to lengths like these to make me feel better. Grabbing the one filled with toffee chunks, I settled onto the sofa, my back against the armrest. I dug my spoon into the frozen goodness as Evie put away the rejected pints. Flavor of choice in her hand, Evie plopped onto the couch and turned on one of the Housewives shows before placing my feet in her lap.

  An hour later, we finally moved, stomachs adjusting to the sugar and carb overload we’d just consumed. Honestly, I really did feel a little bit better. Nothing like watching a bunch of rich, catty women argue about stupid shit to put things into perspective.

  Evie returned from a pee break, hand on her hip and eyebrow raised as she stared at me sprawled on the couch. “So, are we going to do any Bash-bashing? I looked up a whole new set of curse words online just for this occasion. My personal favorites were ‘fucktrumpet’ and ‘thundercunt,’ but I’m sure there are better ones to describe the way he treated you.”

  I laughed, considering my options. As much as it hurt, I knew that who he loved or not was out of his control. Plus, I was the one who kept putting myself in such crappy positions. If I hadn’t spent the night, I would’ve never seen his dick in the first place. What he said wasn’t hurtful because of him, it was hurtful because of how I reacted to it. Crushing on him for so long, even though I knew I couldn’t have him for myself—that was on me. I needed to cheer the hell up and move on.

  “I think I’m going to pass on ripping Bash apart, but I’m down for some good, old-fashioned Internet trolling if you are,” I said, bringing up one of our favorite rainy-day games.

  She grinned widely and grabbed my laptop from the table, putting it between us. As soon as the computer screen came to life, multiple notifications popped up in the bottom corner. I read each one quickly, the congratulations from my friends about my lead role making me smile. One message popped up and I grabbed the computer, resting it in my lap before Evie could see who’d sent it.

  Bash: Check your texts.

  I’d turned my phone to silent on the drive back and had forgotten about it while we ate our feelings. As much as I wanted to jump up and fish my phone out of my purse, my full stomach protested just as much as my stubbornness. It could wait until later.

  We spent the rest of the evening huddled together on the couch, giggling over celebrity videos and gossiping about rumors on campus. I couldn’t wrap my head around why there were never any rumors about Bash. The school wasn’t huge, and anyone who was ‘someone’ had been a victim of the college’s rumor mill. Evie and I were once caught for breaking a window in the science building during a tray-sledding incident—hey, drunk sophomores think all ideas are good ideas—because someone captured it on their cell phone. That video traveled through campus at lightning speed, and eventually made it to the school’s unofficial Twitter account. Luckily Tucker flirted his way in with the guy who ran the feed and got it taken down before administration could see that it was us.

  It was possible that people forgot about Bash when he was at Oxford, but the reactions since he got back proved he was still popular here. He commanded attention everywhere he went, and I’d witnessed firsthand how people flocked to him. They stared at him walk around campus and stole whispers behind his back. Girls blatantly walked behind him just far enough that they thought they were in the clear to objectify him. He had to know. So why hadn’t I ever heard anything about his dates? Why didn’t he ever engage or accept the attention from the rest of the student body? I knew some of the vultures at this school, and they were just as bad as the tabloid gossipmongers.

  After convincing Evie that she really did help me feel better, I retrieved my phone and went to my room around midnight, still perturbed by those thoughts.

  Crawling into bed, I thumbed the power button on my phone and it lit up. The lock screen was full of unread messages from earlier that night. I snuggled further into my blankets and scrolled through the texts.

  Tucker: You’re QUINN, bitch! YASS, girl! I knew you’d get it.

  Tucker: How do you feel about having Bash as your leading man?

  Bash: Congratulations on the lead, Sweets. You deserve it.

  Tucker: Are you mad at me? DON’T IGNORE MEEEEEE.

  Tucker: I’m going to write you out of my will.

  Bash: BTW, I’m sorry again for the other morning. It has a mind of its own, but I’m sorry that we had to wake up that way. I really wanted to make you breakfast.

  Bash: Okay, well, you’re probably busy.

  Tucker: RESPOND TO ME, HOOKER!

  Oh my God, Tucker was so needy. It’d only been a few hours since I’d gone radio-silent.

  Bash: I hope things aren’t weird between us. We’re going to be around each other a lot more now. I’m excited to be your Aiden. Good night, Callie.

  I responded to Tucker with a quick ‘I’m alive’ and placed the phone on my nightstand. I wasn’t ready to talk to Bash yet. Yeah, my heart was a little on the fragile side at the moment, but I had to toughen up. The hurt was going to have to be channeled into other things.

  Like getting into character.

  Or figuring out Bash.

  Eleven

  THE NIGHT OF THE TABLE read had snuck up on me. I’d read through the script a few times and watched other performances of the show online in preparation. Feeling like I had a good idea of what Professor James expected of my performance, I keyed up an early 2000s angsty playlist on the walk over to MacArthur. I was thankful I put my favorite chunky sweater on before I left, since the afternoon breeze had transformed into a sharp wind that bit at my exposed hands.

  Bash came around the corner of a building a hundred yards away and I panicked. I stared at the sidewalk in front of me.

  Be invisible.

  My self-control was pathetic, and I looked up to make sure he hadn’t seen me. Counterproductive idiocy. Since my stupid ass couldn’t not look at him, he caught my glance and lifted his arm in a half-wave. Was I allowed to run away? Probably not—thanks, social etiquette.

  He jogged over, his lips moving and shouting something I couldn’t discern. He looked so warm, a hoodie under his green military jacket and a beanie covering his thick hair. I wanted so badly to wrap my arms under his layers and feel the heat. Gently tugging my headphones out of my ears, he matched my pace.

  “Hey, Callie. I know we have to be in there in a minute, but I was really hoping we could talk about what happened the other morning. You never responded to my texts.”

  I quickened my steps, willing my petite legs to outrun him. I really, really didn’t want to think about his morning wood anymore—at all. Not about the length, or the girth, or how much I wanted to wrap my hand arou
nd it.

  Freaking stop it, Callie.

  He remained in step with me, each one of his strides three of my own.

  “Seriously, it wasn’t a big deal, Bash. I promise. I’d rather not relive that particular moment of our lives. I’m sure it was embarrassing enough for both of us—I mean, you, well, you don’t like me like that and I get it. We’re fine. Everything’s good.” I ran ahead and opened the door, grandly gesturing with my arm to get in there and effectively shutting the topic down.

  He reluctantly stepped forward, his features etched in pain as he wrapped his large hand over my own, the warmth like a glove. I lifted my head proudly, keeping my jaw tight as he stared intently into my eyes. He challenged back, raising a brow, his beautiful dimple standing out with his side smirk.

  Don’t back down.

  “I’ll agree to drop this since we’re late, but this conversation isn’t done. Don’t presume to know everything, Sweets.”

  He was so maddening and damn confusing. All I wanted to do was let go of him, of my attraction and attachment—and I couldn’t even force my hand away from his. Bash was the most mind-fucking man I’d ever met, straight or gay. This push and pull was so taxing, draining my heart and my head.

  I admitted defeat and let go of the door, feeling his eyes on my back. I remained rigid, walking a few feet in front of him the entire walk to the classroom where we’d be meeting the rest of the cast and crew. We separated like magnets, repelling as we moved to opposite ends of the desks formed into a circle in front of us. Tucker greeted Bash with a hug and blew a kiss at me before mouthing ‘we’ll talk later.’ I hadn’t spoken to him much since Boner-gate, too mortified to admit to something. Who knows if he and Bash had talked about it.

  Smiling at Melissa a few chairs away, I flicked my finger between us, gesturing between the few empty seats between us. It was nice to have a friend in here who didn’t know about all the Bash drama. She scooted closer to sit next to me, binders filled to the brim with papers and Post-its, and a handful of fabric swatches in tow. The door to the room shut and a throat cleared loudly.