#racacious

[cakesunflower]

Ineffable [Fighter!Calum] One Shot

Ineffable—Too great to be expressed in words.

Summary: The fear of Calum’s fight made Sylvia run away. Now she was back, and engaging in a fight with her own feelings was not something she was too prepared for.

over 25k words of fighter!Calum. i’m very proud of this one, if i’m being honest, and i hope you guys enjoy reading it and telling me what you think, i always look forward to your comments. happy reading!!

EDIT: there’s a chance if you’re reading this on Safari, then a chunk of the story in different parts is MISSING! idk why tumblr is fucking up, and it’s hella annoying. so to read the WHOLE story, please read on the Tumblr mobile app, or else you won’t understand what’s happening! The first line of the story is “It had been years since she stepped foot in the rambunctious, buzzing underground arena, yet it was still exactly the same.” Make sure that’s what you’re reading, seeing as the entire first part on desktop is missing!! if what you’re reading makes no sense and doesn’t flow, it’s because tumblr just deleted a big chunk of the story from the desktop version!!

READ. FROM. MOBILE!!!!

thank you

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It had been years since she stepped foot in the rambunctious, buzzing underground arena, yet it was still exactly the same. The familiar stench of stale beer, sweat, along with the dull copper of blood lingered in the air and caused Sylvia to wrinkle her nose in disgust, not used to the intense mixture after her lack of visitation over the past year or so. She looked around, the dim lighting always reminding Sylvia of a creepy back alley, realizing not much had changed in the arena. Or, well, calling it an arena was too professional of a term; it was basically an underground cave—or, at least, that’s what it reminded Sylvia of—large and spacious, with a bar on either side for people to help themselves to and the main spectacle right in the center—a boxing ring.

There had been a time in the past where Sylvia always feared the ceiling would come down on them, collapsing under the weight of the world above them and burying her and everyone else under piles of rocky rubble. But it had been two years since she first stepped foot into the place and it was still standing, so maybe it wasn’t as fragile as Sylvia had thought. The people that frequented it certainly weren’t, that was for sure.

It was a lot more crowded than Sylvia remembered it ever being, breath hitching when someone shouldered past her and she stumbled into her best friend, Luann, who steadied her easily. Sylvia wondered how so many people got to know of the Underground—which, to be fair, was just a name she referred to it by since it technically didn’t even have a name. First rule of Fight Club: You do not talk about Fight Club. So how was it that there were close to a hundred people buzzing around the area, when Sylvia clearly remembered less than half of that showing up when she used to frequent there?

“Told you it’s become big,” Luann told her over the sound of the continuous chatter ringing in their ears. It was obvious everyone was waiting for the next round to start, waiting for the fighters to come out, and the ball of dread Sylvia had been trying to bury all day was once again beginning to tighten in her stomach and stir to make her feel nauseous.

Her small group of friends began moving forward, wanting to get their drinks before making their way to the ring, and Sylvia suddenly grabbed hold of Luann’s arm. Without even looking at her friend, Sylvia’s gaze remained on the empty ring as she stated through a dry throat, “I don’t think I should be here.”

The hesitation was clear as day in Sylvia’s tone over the buzz of the other patrons, the strained voice of someone who didn’t think they belonged there, when in reality at one point, Sylvia had been one of the most frequent goers of the Underground. At the way Luann pursed her lips and tilted her head in disagreement, Sylvia’s lips parted as she began stuttering out excuses, “I mean, I should be with Nana, you know? I moved back for her and it’s so selfish of me to be out here instead of with her and—”

“Hey, keep it together!” At the sound of Luann’s exclaim and her hands grabbing hold of Sylvia's shoulders, the stuttering blonde immediately clamped her mouth shut as she stared into her best friend’s brown eyes. Sylvia’s neck tensed as she tried to calm herself down, feeling her heart beginning to pick up its pace anyways despite Luann’s words. She couldn’t help the preexisting guilt from only intensifying the more time she spent away from home. “Nana’s the one who told you to go out, remember? You’ve been back for weeks and you’ve been home taking care of her like the amazing granddaughter you are. You deserve a night out.”

The sound of someone throwing up in the corner nearest to them could be heard over the gruff chattering of those around them, and both girls saw the disgust flicker across each other’s eyes as they tried to ignore the sound. Licking her lips, Sylvia raised her eyebrows as she responded in a brief flat tone, “I don’t think this is what she had in mind.”

Luann’s lips twitched into a smile, head ducking as the laugh escaped her before letting out a breath and looking back up at a pouting Sylvia who whined, “Why would you bring me here anyway? You know this is the last place I’d want to be.” Sylvia narrowed her blue eyes, her pout prominent. “What kind of best friend are you?”

A defeated breath escaped Luann, dropping her shoulders as well as relinquishing her grip on Sylvia. “It’s a big one, Syl.” Her expression softened, tendrils of dark hair loose from her ponytail framing her heart shaped face. “You don’t wanna miss this.”

The insinuation of Luann’s words had the familiar knot tightening even more in Sylvia’s stomach, breath forming a lump in her throat as a familiar, devastatingly handsome face flashed across her mind’s eye. It was a face she’d never forget, one she hadn’t seen in the past year since she had moved to San Francisco. If Sylvia was being honest, she hadn’t been entirely sure if she planned on seeing him again upon her return to Los Angeles, but with Luann as her best friend, who was constantly dragging her around, she guess she should’ve figured it wasn’t a complete impossibility.

So here she was now, waiting for him to step into the ring.

The humor fell from Sylvia’s face upon Luann’s words, lips thinning as she gave a gentle shake of her head while twisting her lips to the side. Her gaze wandered over the many people surrounding them, mostly men with some women speckled in between, all drinking beers and getting their money out to place their bets, hunger for a fight swimming a bit too brightly in each of their eyes. “You know this was one of the reasons why I left, right?” Sylvia sounded, voice low as her pointed gaze flickered back to Luann. Eyebrows furrowing together, Sylvia shrugged questioningly. “What made you think I’d wanna be back here?”

A soft, sympathetic smile curled at Luann’s lips, gaze momentarily flickering being Sylvia’s shoulder before her eyes locked with hers. “Because he’s always said you’re his good luck charm. And he could use it tonight.” And then she jutted her chin to gesture at something behind Sylvia, and the blonde tried to ignore the hitch in her throat at Luann’s words before turning around.

His good luck charm. Sylvia doubted that was true at this point. Still, the words tugged at her heart almost painfully.

The crowd had started cheering, the gruff sounds of yells making the walls around them and the floor under their feet vibrate in excitement, and Sylvia’s lips parted to let in a sharp breath at the sight of the familiar, breathtakingly handsome man stepping foot into the ring. The same man who, as it turned out in that moment, still made her heart leap in her chest and squeeze every drop of air from her lungs even as she looked at him from a distance.

He always left her breathless. She’d been a fool to think a year away was going to change that.

The world slipped away from Sylvia just then, the sound of those around her muffled in her ears as she watched, over the heads of those gathering around the ring, her ex-boyfriend eat up the cheers being thrown at him. Through the warm lighting of the area, Sylvia could make out the determined, tight glare resting on Calum’s face, a look consisting of his sharp jaw clenched and dark brown eyes sharp and focused on the fight that was about to take place. Even from the distance, Sylvia could feel the air of confidence that circled him; the kind of unperturbed self-assurance she had always admired. How in the most intense, grueling of fights, he never in all of the times Sylvia had seen him fight, ever showed any signs of defeat. Never showed any hints of giving up.

She’s the one that had given up, but Sylvia didn’t want to think of that right now.

“Did he. . .” Her blue eyes narrowed into a squint, trying to figure out if what she was seeing was a trick of the dull lighting or if her eyes weren’t, in fact, deceiving her. Sylvia let out a surprised breath. “Did he dye his hair?”

Luann stepped up next to her, letting out a quiet giggle. “Yup. Think he’s trying to figure out if blondes have more fun.” She bumped her shoulder into Sylvia’s. “You could just as easily answer that for him.”

Sylvia shot her a withering stare, one that had no effect on Luann. Licking her lips nervously, she turned to look back towards the ring, the sound of everyone’s loud yells already becoming accustomed to her ears despite her being away for a year. “Who’s he even fi—” Sylvia cut herself off, because her eyes landed on exactly who Calum’s opponent was going to be as he stepped into the ring in the middle of the racacious yells, and Sylvia’s heart dropped to the very pit of her stomach. “Oh, my G—he’s fighting Danny Preston?” The panic tightened her chest, hand shooting to grip Luann’s wrist tightly. “Why the fuck is he fighting Danny Preston?!”

Luann’s jaw slackened at the harsh grip Sylvia was holding her in, free hand trying to loosen Sylvia’s as Luann let out a high pitched squeak before responding, “This is why I thought you’d wanna come!”

A sharp breath escaped Sylvia, her heart thundering anxiously within her chest, feeling it slam against her ribcage as she watched Calum and Danny eye each other from either side of the ring, waiting for the fight to start so they could make each other bleed. God, she hated this. She hated watching him fight, was one of the reasons why she ran, because seeing Calum get hurt squeezed at Sylvia’s heart until she couldn’t breathe anymore. The overwhelming excitement buzzing around her only served to sit heavily on her, clearly not sharing the enthusiasm with everyone else. She may not have been around for a while, but the last time Sylvia had been there, Danny Preston was the only opponent Calum had lost against—was one of the most ruthless, unforgiving fighters down there. She’d seen him break his opponent’s bones. Hell, she’d seen people barely walk out of that ring alive after a single round with him.

So why the fuck was Calum facing off with him?

Shooting Luann an incredulous look, one coated with panic just as much, Sylvia snapped back, “You thought I’d want to see my ex get his ass kicked by Preston? What the fuck, Luann?”

“Good to know you still have some faith in him.”

The sound of the familiar drawl had Sylvia’s back straightening right before she swiveled around, eyes landing on the familiar face of one of Calum’s best friends, Luke Hemmings. He stood tall, just like Sylvia had remembered, with blonde curls pulled back into a bun and eyebrows raised over bright blue eyes Sylvia had always been jealous of—hers were more of a darker blue. His sometimes appeared to be completely translucent and she wished hers were more like that.

Instead of greeting him like Sylvia was raised to, she gave Luke an incredulous look with her jaw dropped and eyebrows shooting up. “It’s not about me not having faith in Calum,” she was quick to retort, frowning as she quickly shook her head. She didn’t like the judgemental look the tall man in front of her was shooting down, unimpressed by what he overheard. “It’s about Calum going up against that fucking caveman. I’ve seen what he does to his opponents, Luke. How the hell are you not freaking out?”

His lips had been pressed together as he listened to her over the buzzing of those around them, his expression blank. Which, honestly, kind of unnerved Sylvia given that Luke was one of the most animated people she knew. To have him look down at her, expression not at all giving away what he was thinking, made her feel even more out of place in the Underground than she did already. “Because unlike you, I’ve been right here watching Calum progress as a fighter. And I know, for a fact, that he’s gonna drop Preston on his ass because of how much he’s improved.” Luke’s lips curled up into a very uncharacteristically condescending smirk, one that dried Sylvia’s already sandpapery throat. “Save your worries for someone who needs them.”

His words felt like a slap in the face, Sylvia immediately pressing her teeth together because, yeah, she kind of expected a reaction like that. Her reason for leaving was no secret, especially since she had made it clear to Calum before she left. It was only natural for his best friend to not entirely welcome her back with open arms. Especially on a turf that was specifically there.

Sylvia wasn’t even sure what she was going to say as she started, “Luke, I—”

“If you’re not here to show your support, you can leave, Sylvia,” he cut in, his flat tone completely contradicting the harsh look taking over his eyes. “Cal doesn’t need that kind of energy here. Not tonight.”

She averted her gaze from the tall blonde, frowning at the ground as the hurt stung through her veins at Luke’s words. He was right, she figured, but that didn’t mean she enjoyed hearing it.

Sylvia moved aside to let Luke past as he made a move to walk, her gaze lifting and eyes widening when she caught sight of him duck his head and press a brief kiss to Luann’s lips. In that moment, Sylvia wondered if she had just imagined what she just witnessed, though that thought was right out the window as Luke murmured to Luann, “I’ll see you up front,” before giving her another kiss and straightening to his full height.

He walked away without another look towards Sylvia, tall frame easily moving through the thick crowd, leaving a bewildered blonde gaping at a guilty looking Luann who pressed her kissed lips together like she’d just been caught in the act—which, honestly, she had been. When her apprehensive eyes met Sylvia’s questioning, completely incredulous ones, Luann hesitantly began, “I, uh, may have forgotten to mention that we’ve, um, been seeing each other?”

Sylvia’s lungs deflated, shoulders dropping as she continued to gape at her best friend. Her mind was spinning, not entirely sure what had just happened as she ignored her surroundings and focused on the discovery in front of her. When in the goddamn hell had that happened and why hadn’t Luann ever said anything? At least even ever mention that she liked Luke or had been seeing him? Maybe Luann kept it to herself because of the relationship Luke had with her ex, which okay, Sylvia understood. And she wasn’t mad—she had no right to be because who Luann wanted to date wasn’t at all up to her. But Sylvia wished that her past with Calum hadn’t, in any kind of way, affected her friendship with Luann to the point where her best friend didn’t even tell her about her new boyfriend.

Sylvia inhaled sharply. Too much was happening too fast.

“I don’t. . . Even know what just happened,” Sylvia spoke slowly, blinking upwards before a surprised, breathless laugh escaped her. For a moment, everything else slipped out of Sylvia’s mind as she raised an eyebrow at her best friend, who was still smiling nervously. “When did you and Luke eve—”

“Fight!”

The loud shout sounded over the buzz, only causing the crowd to roar viciously and making Sylvia turn around suddenly, heart jumping into her throat once again when she watched Calum and Danny circle each other, sizing one another up. Right then, everything else slipped out of Sylvia’s mind, lips parting in nervous wonder as Danny threw the first punch, one that Calum easily ducked out of the way from. Sylvia would be lying if she said a gasp hadn’t choked in her throat when she saw Danny’s fist fly, only calming down the tiniest bit when Calum moved away. But Sylvia’s been there before, she knew what she was in for. She knew the anxiety and nerves and terror weren’t going to die down until Calum was out of the ring.

Her eyes remained glued to Calum, throat tight and nails absently picking at each other, as she watched him move with an even more precise sense of agility than she remembered watching him fight with. His hands were fisted and elbows tucked in, the glow of the dull lights making his brown, inked skin appear warm and smooth to touch. And Sylvia tried not to let it distract her, tried not to think of if his skin was still as soft as she remembered it being, or if his newly cut and blonde hair felt just the same in between her fingers as his brown curls had.

But there wasn’t a chance of Sylvia feeling those sensations again, she knew. And so she watched him fight, just as apprehensively as she always did, with a weight suffocating her chest and nerves bouncing erratically beneath her skin.

“Come on,” Luann’s voice broke through Sylvia’s mind, though it sounded far away despite them standing right next to each other. “Let’s go to the front.”

“N-No,” Sylvia stammered out, her feet seemingly frozen right where she stood, unable to tear her gaze away from the ring. Her shoulders tensed even more when Calum delivered a successful right hook, knuckles connecting to Danny’s jaw, and Sylvia couldn’t breathe with the thick lump clogging her throat. They were at a distance from the ring, a crowd of faces between her and Calum, and she wanted to keep it that way during the fight. Being up close to the ring wasn’t something Sylvia wanted to experience again, and the last thing she wanted was Calum’s eyes potentially landing on her face during the fight and possibly getting surprised by her presence. A distraction of any kind could cost him, especially against an opponent like Danny. Sylvia swallowed. “I just—can we stay over here? Please.”

Luann had dragged Sylvia here against her will. The least she could do was let Sylvia reluctantly watch, with her heart in her throat, her ex-boyfriend throw and possibly suffer through punches from a distance.

                                                            *****

It was one of the best highs he’d ever experienced.

There had been a moment, a brief moment when Preston had his knee pressed into the area below his chest and sent a concussing punch to his jaw, that had Calum panicking over the thought of losing the fight. The blood in his mouth had been familiarly bitter and his head had felt numbed from the hit, and in a split second haze Calum had wondered if that had been the end for him in that particular fight, wondered if he would be able to pull himself up from it.

But the cheers had been deafening, the gruff and deep roars of the crowd surrounding them fueling the simmering fire in Calum’s veins into an eruption caused by a newfound purpose. Truthfully, it had also been because of the smug, triumphant smirk that had sprouted on Preston’s lips as he stared down at Calum, the arrogance dancing in his dark eyes, as he geared back his right hand to deliver another devastating blow that both he and Calum knew would effectively knock Calum out and cost him the match. And there was no way that Calum was about to let the patronizing son of a bitch win. Especially when Preston was one of the only fighters Calum had lost against. He wasn’t going to give his long standing opponent the satisfaction of defeating him again.

So he fought back. With the blood and sweat literally running down his skin, with the bones of his hands feeling as though they were seconds away from being shattered, and with his heart hammering so roughly against his chest that it was burning him from the inside out, Calum gathered enough energy to punch Preston off. He surprised everyone by standing tall on his own two feet, spitting a mouthful of blood on the stained canvas floor of the ring and craning his head to the side to let the tension crack before throwing himself back into the fight.

And he’d won.

The heaviness in his heart as he caught his breath after the win, standing over Preston’s fallen body, shoulders finally relaxed and hands familiarly sore as he tasted the blood in his mouth. Calum never was one to pay attention to the aches his body was screaming about, the punches and kicks he’d suffered through, and he didn’t do so tonight either. Especially tonight, when the adrenaline was pumping through his veins and mixing in with the overwhelming triumph of finally putting down the one man he’d been yearning to do so for so long. Calum had trained for this. Had spent every waking moment in the gym bettering himself and correcting any mistake that ever caused him to lose any match, and it all fucking worked out.

He won.

Calum looked down at his hands, bloody and bruised and hurting like a pair of motherfuckers, and a smile curled at his lips through the breaths he was trying to even out. But the pain was worth it. It was worth it because it gave him the title of being the undefeated fighter of the ring and gave him a hefty load of money from his cut of the bets that had been placed before the fight. The sweat sticking to his skin didn’t bother him, though it rarely did, most of the blood wiped off, and he didn’t even think of how he was going to be unbearably sore in the morning. He’d fucking won. He was on a high right now and, Calum knew, nothing could bring him down from it.

“You good, man?” Ashton’s excited laugh pulled Calum out of his thoughts.

He opened his eyes, gaze landing on his three best friends surrounding him, all with equally thrilled grins and glimmering eyes. Calum had pressed himself against the wall in the back of the area next to the doorway to the locker room after being patted and cheered on by a number of the spectators. It was clearing out slowly and Calum needed the moment of somewhat calm to relish in the victory he’d just acquired for himself. His heart, after finally relaxing from the adrenaline of the fight, felt weightless in his chest. Calum had an image to maintain down there, but even he couldn’t succeed in keeping the smile off his face, and he was a damn expert in keeping himself unexpressive.

Calum kept his head leaned back against the rocky wall, looking at his friends from down his nose, lips curling upwards in a near blissed out smile. “’M fuckin’ great,” he responded, a laugh passing through him without much choice. “’M bloody fantastic.”

“You’re undefeated,” Michael laughed, green eyes lighting up happily as he shifted to lean against the wall next to him. He nudged Calum’s shoulder with his nose, not too rough despite knowing Calum could take it, hands shoved in his ripped denim jacket. “You gonna treat us out to drinks with the bank you’ve just made?”

Calum’s grin widened, rolling his eyes at Michael before snorting, “Greedy fucker.” The boys laughed and he didn’t acknowledge the dull pain that throbbed through his nose at the action. Lolling his head straight, Calum raised his eyebrows at Luke, trailing his tongue along his lower lip and no longer tasting the copper of the blood that had been there, before asking, “Where’s Luann at?”

Upon hearing his words, Calum noticed the wide, dimpled grin on Luke’s face falter slightly, the dents in his cheeks under the facial hair disappearing as some of the giddiness in his eyes vanished. Calum’s eyebrows twitched into a frown at the sight of his friend not looking entirely pleased over the mention of his girlfriend, a mixture of concern and curiosity making him straighten his head.

He watched as Luke pressed his lips together, jaw tight and broad shoulders lowering tensely. The sudden change in demeanor wasn’t lost on any of them, all looking at Luke with their own levels of concern. But he didn’t meet anyone’s gaze, hands buried in the pockets of his leather jacket as he looked away, the muscle in his jaw jumping.

Luke looked at Calum then, blue eyes meeting curious brown, and he let out a breath before stating, “Sylvia’s here.”

Maybe it had been the hits Preston had managed to get in, but Luke’s words had taken a minute too long to register in Calum’s head as both Michael and Ashton reacted immediately, choking out incredulous exclaims at the bomb Luke dropped. But his words echoed in Calum’s mind, hollowed out from the statement that had just been unloaded on him, and Calum couldn’t think. Suddenly the rocky wall he was leaning against was digging too much into the skin of his bare back, his feet seemed too exhausted to support his weight, and the heat that spread throughout his body was a hundred times more intense than whatever he felt during the fight. All because Luke’s words were the harshest punch Calum had received all night, knocking the air right out of his lungs effortlessly.

Sylvia was there. She was there, somewhere amongst the crowd of dispersing patrons, and Calum couldn’t think. His thoughts were no longer on the incredible match he had just won, a match he hadn’t been able to stop thinking about, but one mention of his ex-girlfriend and every train of thought in Calum’s mind had been redirected to her path. He no longer slouched against the wall, back straightening rigidly as his dark eyes began darting around, trying to catch sight of the woman he hadn’t seen in a year‍, of the one who’d clouded his thoughts more often than he let on.

“She’s back?” Ashton questioned, hazel eyes wide as he looked between Luke and Calum, alarmed for the sake of his brown eyed best friend.

Luke’s eyes met Calum’s, biting down into his lower lip before offering a slow, single nod before repeating with a confirming, “She’s back.”

Calum’s heart was in his throat and his gaze, right then, flickered past Luke’s frame and then the beating inside stopped altogether at the sight of the woman, albeit hesitantly, making her way towards him. And as soon as he looked at her, even from the distance, Calum could pick out every feature of Sylvia’s face; of her blue eyes that reminded him of the sea, gentle dimples he’d often poked, the button nose he used to rub his own against, blonde hair that was now up to her shoulders rather than to her waist, and the consistently pink lips he’d kissed so many times.

Everything felt tight, uncomfortably so, as Calum watched Sylvia face Luann as she animatedly spoke to her, all the while nearing where he was. For a moment, Calum truly considered pushing himself off the wall and walking right into the locker room to avoid her altogether. But that thought was thrown out the window as soon as it entered his mind because Calum Hood didn’t run away. Running away was for cowards and Calum would rather get beat senseless than be a fucking coward.

“Shit,” Calum breathed out, despite the way he steeled himself and stood to his full height in preparation for what was about to come.

Their eyes met. Calum felt like he was being thrown against the wall with the air rushing out of his lungs, and he watched as Sylvia’s pace instantly slowed down once their gazes locked. The tension in her neck was obvious, taking a breath through her parted lips as the smile fell from her face upon noticing Calum. There was a halt in the air surrounding them, in that moment, time and reality coming to a stop as they took in the sight of the other, a sight neither had been privy to in about a year.

There was a ringing in Calum’s ears, deafening him to everything else, hearing only the increasing beating of his heart as he stared at the woman just a few feet away from him. His expression may not give it away—Calum was a damn near expert at schooling his features—but the shock was vibrating his nerves and rendering him frozen where he stood. And truthfully, he hated that. Calum never froze in place, never let anyone have that kind of power over him.

Unsurprising—yet just as unnerving—to realize that of course Sylvia was the one capable of doing so.

“Hell,” Ashton breathed out once he followed Calum’s gaze, eyes landing on the blonde girl that had been, at one point, the only thing that kept Calum together. Until she left and he had to find out, the hard way, that the only thing holding him together was himself. “She’s really back.”

“Luann knew and she didn’t tell you?” Calum heard Michael ask, not really caring about who his question was directed to until he heard Luke let out a slow breath.

His voice was dry as he answered, “Kept that bit of information to herself, I guess.”

The next few moments, it seemed, moved in slow motion as Sylvia let Luann lead her to where the boys were standing. Calum had always been able to read her well, a feat that had served him generously when he and Sylvia were dating, and even now with a year’s worth of separation between them, he could still see the waves of hesitation roll off of her as she reluctantly followed Luann. He watched Sylvia’s gaze drop, looking at anything but the men she was nearing, and Calum clenched his jaw tightly at the inevitable confrontation.

Being prepared was one of his strong suits. This, he realized, left the world gaping a hole beneath his feet.

It certainly didn’t help matters that Sylvia was, by every regard, just as beautiful as he remembered.

“It’s comforting to know the other guy looks a lot worse, or else I’d feel bad about your pretty face getting all fucked up.” Leave it to Luann to utter something witty as an attempt of diffusing the thick tension hovering over them like an impending storming cloud. Calum appreciated the effort—though, if he was being honest, he’d have appreciated the knowledge of his ex-girlfriend returning to town even more.

Unfortunately, Luann’s comment didn’t quite entice the laughs she had been hoping for, everyone too distracted by the presence of Calum and Sylvia—together, face to face, after an ending that had left a bitter taste in the two past lovers’ mouths that had yet to fade.

The group was quiet, the only sounds coming from the low hum of their surroundings consisting of still-enthusiastic drunks. It had taken Calum a minute to break away from them, being clapped on the back and congratulated on a fight not many had expected for him to win. It wasn’t like Calum was much of an underdog—he’d earned his place in the food chain of the ring—but against Danny Preston, his win was profound. A win he was so proud of, so ready to celebrate.

What he wasn’t ready for was facing Sylvia once more.

Calum already wasn’t a man of many words, but it had never been that way around her. With Sylvia, he’d always known what to say—hell, sometimes he didn’t even have to say anything for her to understand what he was thinking. The two of them, they knew each other frighteningly well. Were one and the same. The suffocating heaviness Calum felt pressing down on his chest felt harsher as he realized the two of them, right now, stood facing each other like strangers being introduced for the first time. Like the history consisting of dizzying kisses, tender touches, electrifying intimacy never existed in the first place.

That, Calum realized, was more painful than the knee to the gut Preston had delivered earlier in the night. Except a bruise on his skin was more visible than the agony in his heart.

No one tried to break the tension after Luann’s attempt, the silence between them awkward and tight. Until, to everyone’s surprise—even his own—Calum all but blurted, “You cut your hair.”

He noticed the flicker of surprise that flashed across Sylvia’s blue eyes, his own recognition making him feel somewhat relieved that he could read her at least that much, even if it damn well be all he could decipher. Just because Calum hadn’t stopped thinking about Sylvia for the past year, didn’t mean he still knew her.

It was becoming increasingly difficult to ignore the dull ache that came with the knowledge that he did know her at one point. Now it all felt like none of that mattered anymore.

Calum watched her throat work, the small diamond pendant of the necklace she never took off resting delicately beneath the hollow of her throat. Sylvia’s gaze flickered up slightly, before her blue eyes met his brown, cautious yet still somehow slightly unguarded. He wondered if he imagined the subtle quirk of her lips, brief and fleeting. “So did you.”  

Silence fell upon them once more, awkward and heavy, with no one quite sure of what to say or do. There had been a time where everything was easy and friendly, where no one was someone else’s ex and one hadn’t left the other. They all were friends, some more than others, yet the tension Sylvia’s surprise arrival brought rendered them all speechless.

“We’ll give you two a minute,” Michael suddenly spoke up, taking it upon himself to allow Calum and Sylvia some space. Or, maybe, he just didn’t want to be around a potential explosion between the two exes. Calum wouldn’t blame him if the latter was true. He watched as Michael pushed himself off the wall, missed the looks he exchanged with Luke and Ashton, as he made his way past Sylvia. Although he stopped for a moment right next to her, offering her a smile that was real and honest as he said, “It’s good to see you again, Syl.”

Calum saw the way her pink lips quirked up at Michael’s words, a flash of relief appearing across her face as Ashton also gave her a quick hug before following Michael. It didn’t go unnoticed by the boxer how Luke merely turned and left, not even bothering to look Sylvia’s way, uncaring of her arrival as he shoved his hands in the pockets of his jacket and stalked off.

Luann was the last to go, hesitating as she looked between Calum and Sylvia as she worried her lower lip before her shoulders sank and she let out a sigh. “Don’t kill each other,” she muttered before swiveling on the heel of her boot and jogging to catch up to Luke, whose long legs already granted him some distance.

The silence was back between them and Calum hated how acutely aware he was of his heart drumming within his chest. Truthfully, it was taking him off guard, standing in front of Sylvia right now. They had broken up and she was gone, a new job offer hours away in San Francisco seemingly rescuing her after she ended things with him, and Calum had been left distraught over the loss of a woman he’d spent a year of his life with—a year of his life loving. If Calum was the expressive, dramatic kind he would say that he truly had felt as though everything was over after Sylvia left him with nothing but a shattered heart. But he never said it; he only felt it, quietly and achingly and tiredly. And while his friends knew the breakup with Sylvia is what caused Calum to spend even more time in the gym and in the ring, punching and kicking out his aggression, they never dared say anything.

Heartbreak was a hell of a motivator, as was anger.

In this moment, though, Calum understood that he was frozen. It irritated him, made him berate himself because he was supposed to be better than this. But one look into Sylvia’s pretty blue eyes and it was over. Everything he felt for her came rushing towards the forefront of his still mending heart, eager to break down the delicate walls that had yet to properly rebuild.

“You beat Danny Preston.” Calum was both glad and surprised Sylvia was the one to break the silence, the lump in his throat preventing him from doing so, and the ringing in his ears apparently not loud enough to miss the nervous tint in her voice. At least she was just as overwhelmed by this as he was. He met her gaze, watched her nod along slowly. “That’s—he was someone you really wanted to beat and, uh, it was—congratulations.”

Calum wondered if the lights weren’t so dim if he’d be able to see the heat that would spread across Sylvia’s cheeks, which happened whenever she nervously stumbled over her words. It had been an endearing sight to Calum, always feeling a bit captivated over his effortless ability to make her blush, and it felt like a slap in the face when he discovered the mere thought of it still had his heart leaping—even if it was lodged in his throat.

Her words struck him. She remembered his desire to beat Preston, something he had never been shy about when they dated. Calum had always voiced his ambitions when it came to his goals within the ring, words Sylvia had heard repeatedly, words that eventually drove her away.

“Thank you.” His words felt too formal, too strange falling from his own mouth, yet Calum couldn’t help it. God, after a victorious fight he’d always find Sylvia and kiss her if the blood wasn’t in the way. He’d celebrate with her. But then she left, and Calum hadn’t been in the mood to celebrate for a while, and then eventually just went to get drinks with the guys. That had become a routine, one he had bitterly come to terms with. Now she was in front of him, and it was going to shit. They no longer had a standing, and it was shit. Forcing himself to forgo clearing his throat like he was itching to do so, Calum stated in a too casual, too indifferent tone, “Didn’t expect to see you here.”

Sylvia rubbed her lips together, shoulders raising to her ears as she tucked her hands in the back pockets of her shorts. Her entire demeanor was nothing if not guarded, as if she was meeting someone new for the first time and wasn’t sure how to act. Calum would be lying if he said that didn’t sting. “Didn’t expect to be here,” she responded truthfully, letting a breathy, barely-there smile slip. A lock of wavy blonde hair was untucked from behind her ear, the tendril grazing her cheek, and Calum’s fingers itched to push it back. “Luann kind of. . . Ambushed me.” She turned sheepish. “I thought we were going out for drinks.”

Truthfully, a pang of disappointment thudded through his chest at the knowledge of Sylvia being here not out of her own decision making but because she’d basically been dragged without consideration. Seeing Sylvia out in the crowd whenever he had a fight had always been thrilling, never a distraction. When his eyes would land on her, the drive to fight harder would ignite with new purpose, and for a while Calum had to figure out how to keep going when she’d left. His anger and heartbreak had helped, but it wasn’t as strong as the relief and passion that had once been there.

Calum bit the inside of his lower lip, brief and sharp, before releasing a quick breath and responding flatly, “Sorry to disappoint.”

He wondered if he imagined the flinch that had Sylvia shrinking into herself. “No, i-it wasn’t—I didn’t mean—” Sylvia cut herself off, and despite the mixed emotions in Calum’s heart and mind that he didn’t dare entangle himself in at the moment, he did feel the selfish sting of satisfaction at the sight of her getting flustered at his comment. Pressing her lips together, Sylvia let out a deep breath through her nose as she calmed herself down before stating, “You didn’t. That fight. . . It was amazing.” Her throat worked. “You’d always been impressive in the ring.”

That’s why you left, isn’t it?

Keeping the bitter words tamed on his tongue, Calum pressed his lips together as he offered a tight yet somewhat appreciative smile. How ironic that Sylvia was complimenting him on the very thing that had ultimately driven her away.

The smile, if it could even be called that, faltered on Calum’s face as the drum of his heart began increasingly pounding him in his ears. He desperately wished he could focus on anything but the woman in front of him, and it irked him that he couldn’t. Even after being broken up, Sylvia still held a certain grip of power over him that rendered him completely submissive to her. And Calum Hood was anything but submissive.

His adam’s apple bobbed. “What’re you doin’ here, Sylvia?”

Her name rolled off his tongue too deliciously, a shiver running down her spine. But the tone of his voice had Sylvia’s throat working once more, but if his demeanor affected her too much, she didn’t let it show more than that. “Nana’s been sick lately,” she told him truthfully. “Mom had been around to help but she had to get back to work so, uh, I came to stay with her.”

At the mention of her grandmother, Calum’s forehead smoothened out and a shot of worry rushed through his body, accompanied by a weighing guilt. Sylvia’s grandmother, whom they all fondly referred to as Nana as well, was the sweetest woman Calum knew, who always made sure he knew he was welcomed into her home. The knowledge of her being ill tightened Calum’s dried throat, thinking of when he’d seen her last—right before he and Sylvia broke up, with blue eyes as bright as her granddaughter’s and dark brown greying hair always kept at a bob. God, he hadn’t visited her maybe once or twice after his relationship with Sylvia ended, and he felt like shit about it.

Despite whatever he may feel for Sylvia, Calum found himself inquiring, “Is she okay?”

“Just getting old, you know?” she responded with a small, empathetic smile. Blue eyes met brown. “Her heart’s not as strong as it used to be.”

Calum wanted to laugh, bitterly and humorlessly, as he gazed at the woman in front of him. He and Nana had that in common.

                                                          *****

Honestly, Calum was surprised he found himself in front of the house. He stood on the stoned pathway leading up to the one story house, the garden bright and green with colorful rose bushes, well maintained and as beautiful as he remembered them. As he remained in place, the hot Los Angeles sun beating down on him and his leather jacket trapping the heat within his body, Calum wondered if Nana was well enough to maintain the greenery outside or if Sylvia had a hand in doing so. And then, swiftly, he wondered if it was a good idea of him being here.

His and Sylvia’s impromptu reunion had happened day before yesterday and Calum could just. . . Not stop thinking. His mind only consisted of Sylvia and her arrival, and then he thought of Nana and her health, and the guilt squeezed at his heart like a fist reaching into his chest and clenching it tightly. He hadn’t been able to sleep, plagued with thoughts of the pretty blonde who’d made a reappearance in his life, staring at the grey ceiling of his bedroom and remembering, more than usual, the nights he spent with Sylvia entangled in the very sheets he was sleeping under.

And then he thought of Nana, and the guilt returned. Just because things between him and Sylvia hadn’t worked out, didn’t mean he should’ve stopped seeing Nana. Disrespectful, is that what that was.

So, swallowing the dryness that apparently found home in his throat, Calum attempted to clear it as his gaze dropped to his Converse, watching his feet as he walked up the three steps and reached the front door of the landscaped house. He’d definitely had craved a smoke before arriving, but Calum wasn’t about to show up to Nana’s place stinking of cigarettes. God, he wasn’t even sure why he was here in the first place, knowing he was risking running into Sylvia when he just wanted to see Nana.

He vehemently ignored the part of his mind telling him he wanted to run into Sylvia, too. But he told himself he didn’t. He was indifferent.

Calum rubbed his hands down the back of his jeans after ringing the doorbell, faintly hearing it ring throughout the house inside, patiently yet nervously waiting for it to be answered. His shoulders were tense, suddenly wondering what the hell he was supposed to say to Nana, wondering if this impulsive decision was a good one. He couldn’t lie, not to that woman. Shit, this wasn’t well thought—

“Calum!” His head snapped up as the door swung open, and in front of him stood a woman who just barely came up to his chest, small with grey overtaking her dark hair, thinner than he’d remembered, but eyes as bright a blue he recalled. Nana’s lips spread into a smile, wrinkles and smile lines decorating her face as she looked up at him as if this wasn’t the first time in a year he was visiting her. “I almost didn’t recognize you with that hair,” she laughed, looking all too joyous at the sight of him, more than he knew he deserved. “Come here, sweetheart, I missed you!”

He tried desperately not to notice the way her hands, somewhat veiny, shook when she reached up for him, and Calum quickly returned a genuine smile as he bent himself down enough to rest his chin on her shoulder so she could do the same for him. He felt Nana’s arms wrap around his shoulders, his own hugging her frame to his chest as the familiar scent of cinnamon and sugar engulfed him. In his arms, she felt just as small as she looked, and Calum felt his heart tug.

“Missed you too, Nana. Had to come see how you were doin’,” he returned sincerely, gruffly, before they pulled away and returned the smile she was beaming at him. “Beautiful as ever.”

She grinned, patting his chest fondly before shuffling back into the house. “Always a charmer. Come on in, it’s burning up out here.”

He followed her inside, shutting the door behind her before routinely toeing off his shoes. Looking around, nostalgia washed over Calum in waves, taking in the auburn colored walls with picture frames decorating them, all ones Calum had seen before. The wood paneled floors and living room filled with throw pillows and blankets remained the same, a sense of comfort and home hitting Calum the further inside he walked the familiar house. It all still looked the same, down to the wonderful scent of honey he could faintly detect in the air, and it was like he never stopped visiting. But he had, and Calum wanted to make up for it.

“Do you want some tea, sweetheart? I was just about to make some,” Nana offered, making her way to the kitchen connected to the living room.

Calum’s head snapped over to her, averting his gaze from a photograph of Nana and a five year old Sylvia with a wide grin with missing teeth and blonde pigtails, a picture he used to tease her about. Registering what Nana said, Calum clicked his tongue with a shake of his head. “No, no. I’ll be makin’ the tea, Nana.”

He didn’t give her a chance to argue, walking around her and stepping into the kitchen as he caught sight of the kettle and grabbed it to pour some water in. Calum was well aware offering to make the tea didn’t even begin to put him on the path of forgiveness for just abandoning Nana after the break up, but he still wanted to do it. He heard her make a sound of protest before faltering into soft chuckles, feeling her eyes on him as he clicked the stove on and settled the kettle on top before maneuvering around the kitchen with familiarity, grabbing the mugs from the drawer to the right of the sink and the tea bags from the cabinet next to the stove.

“How’ve you been, honey?” Nana inquired once Calum turned to face her, watching as she gestured for him to follow her into the living room. She settled on the couch, a soft sigh of a grunt passing her lips as she sat, before patting the spot next to her as she looked at Calum. As he sat, he saw her blue eyes take in the sight of him, raising a grey eyebrow. “Still fighting, hmm?”

Calum noticed the way her gaze zeroed in on the bruise that had bloomed on his jaw, probably noticing the small cut across the bridge of his nose as well. His fights, illegal as they may be, weren’t a secret to Nana, Calum knew. And while she never judged him, never said anything heinous or offending towards his decision of partaking in those kinds of fights, there was a part of Calum that felt almost ashamed of being a fighter when he was in front of Nana. Despite her being the most open and accepting older woman he’d ever met, despite her congratulating him with happy hugs and encouraging words every time he won a fight, Calum felt a hint of shame for being involved in what he was and Nana knowing about it. He knew it was because she worried about him, knew she always eyed him with maternal concern whenever she saw so much as a scratch on him and he hated that he disquieted her with that.

“Yes, I am,” he answered honestly, lips twitching into a small, almost apologetic smile as he looked at her.

“Don’t say it like it’s a bad thing,” Nana responded, laughing lightly as Calum linked his ring clad fingers together, knees apart and arms resting on top of them, slouched forward. “It’s something you’re good at. Be proud of it,” she said, patting his leg before adding, “Sylvia told me you won against Danny Preston. Congratulations, honey, I’m sure that was a victory worth the wait.” He couldn’t help the small grin that tugged at his lips at Nana’s words, feeling his heart swell at the knowledge of her recalling his rivalry with Preston. He tried not to think of Sylvia talking to her grandmother about him, the thought lurching his heart. Nana’s smile turned soft, inquiring, “Have you seen Sylvia again since she’s returned?”

Looking back at Nana, Calum saw the glint in her eyes, soft yet knowing, and he ducked his head with a shake of it while letting out a near amused, breathy laugh. “You know I have, Nana,” he said, voice carrying a chuckling rasp as he saw through her faux curiosity. Sylvia and Nana were so close, a fact Calum was well aware of, and had no doubt a discussion about reuniting the other day. Nana’s questioning was just her trying to pry some information out of Calum, gage his reaction, which he truthfully found amusing.

She let out a laugh, not at all apologetic, as she leaned back. “I wanted to be gentle in my questioning. Didn’t want to send you running for the hills again.”

Her words, though they were teasing, had Calum’s heart dropping to the pit of his stomach, a harsh reminder of how much of an asshole he was abandoning Nana when her granddaughter abandoned him. He had so much love for this woman next to him, who never judged his lifestyle the way his own parents did, who was proud of him for what he was doing in the ring and outside of it, which was working odd jobs wherever he could find them when he didn’t have a fight. He did whatever work he could find and made people bleed, and as morbid as the latter was, they all paid the bills and he was happy doing them both. Nana was one of the only people, outside his small group of friends, who understood that. How could he just leave her?

Calum’s gaze dropped, looking down at his linked hands as he squeezed his bruised fingers, feeling the bite of his own rings into his skin as the tension had his veins standing out. He took a deep breath in, deep voice thick with shame and apology as he squeezed his eyes shut and began, “Nana, I’m so sorry for disappearing on you like that. It was disrespectful and fu—really awful of me and I’m s—”

“You were heartbroken.” Nana’s voice was firm yet understanding, and Calum opened his eyes before reluctantly shifting his gaze to her. There wasn’t a smile on her face anymore, but a gentleness in the softness of her aged features and blue of her eyes—he noticed some grey melding into the irises, squashed the thought of wondering if Sylvia’s would do the same as she grew older—as she gazed at him. “You and Sylvia were no longer in a relationship, Calum. It’s understandable that you didn’t want to visit the grandmother of the girl who broke your heart—” She ducked her head, eyeing him knowingly, and Calum could feel the beginnings of his stomach churning, “—especially when the love is still there.”

Calum started, back straightening and he couldn’t control the widening of his eyes, once again realizing where Sylvia was concerned, it was like Calum had no power over even himself. The couch cushion shifted under his weight as he leaned away from Nana, who didn’t at all look perturbed by his reaction, as he began stammering like an idiot, “Nana, I do—”

The shrill whistle of the kettle cut him off and Nana smiled. “Tea’s ready.”

Her grin was far too innocent for someone who drained all the blood from Calum’s face, and he stood up before narrowing his eyes at the older woman. “This isn’t over,” he stated, turning to walk to the kitchen as he willed his head to stop spinning.

Nana chuckled from behind him. “Yes, yes. Get the tea and come back so you can fight a sick elderly woman.”

The teasing in her tone was far too reminiscent of Sylvia’s, always prodding him into innocent and amusing silly arguments they both got laughs out of. Calum understood where she got it from, being mostly raised by the woman in the living room.

He swiftly prepared their cups of tea, remembering how Nana liked hers, his mind busy with thoughts of Sylvia. Being in this house, the childhood home she grew up in, had every aspect of his brain overflowing with the thought of his ex. For a long time, Calum had thought he had moved on from her, that Sylvia and his relationship with her was in the past and he was allowed to find someone else, maybe, or just be happy with how things were with him. He genuinely believed that. Or, maybe, let himself think that way.

But one mere glance at her and Calum was terrifyingly realizing that he hadn’t, in fact moved on. That what he thought was him going forward in life was just a phase of out of sight, out of mind in regards of Sylvia being gone. How idiotic of him to think that the love he had for her would leave when she did.

Returning to the living room, Calum felt himself uncharacteristically and awkwardly stumble between tripping over his own feet and freezing in place at the sight of Sylvia standing in the living room, a single brown bag of groceries in her arms as she immediately and confusedly look at Calum. It was probably a sight, Calum thought, of him standing in the entryway of the kitchen in her grandmother’s house, standing on sock clad feet and holding two steaming mugs of tea in tattooed, ring clad hands. He knew she didn’t expect to see him there, and while Calum knew there was definitely a possibility of him running into Sylvia while visiting Nana, the sight of her standing there in a baby blue sundress with sunglasses atop her head to push her blonde hair away had Calum’s chest tightening almost too suddenly.

“Oh,” Sylvia sounded, gaze flickering between Nana and Calum, the bewilderment and surprise clear on her face as her throat worked. “I didn’t. . . Know you had company.”

The awkward tension was thick in her voice, the bag she held in her arms crackling too loudly as she shifted it. It was enough to have Calum breaking his gaze from her, jaw tight as he moved back to the living room to hand Nana her mug, a too tight grip on his own. “Calum just dropped by to catch up,” Nana informed after taking a sip of her tea, sitting sideways on the couch so she could easily look between Calum standing by her and Sylvia behind the couch. “Why don’t you join us?”

Calum loosened his tight jaw to take a sip of the tea, ignoring the sizzling burn on his tongue as he forced down the hot beverage, eyes involuntarily flickering over the rim of the ceramic mug to look at the blonde. He watched as Sylvia shot her grandmother a look, one he easily read as warning panic, before her eyes met his. In the light of the early afternoon sun pouring through the living room windows, Calum saw the flush in Sylvia’s cheeks at the notion of her being caught by him looking so flustered, immediately looking away.

She tightened the grip on the bag. “I have to put the groceries away,” Sylvia quickly muttered, rushed with the words blending together before swiftly making her way to the kitchen, not meeting anyone else’s gazes as she tried to put as much distance between herself and Calum as she could.

The scent of coconut that Sylvia left in her wake threatened to send a shiver down Calum’s spine before he caught it, not at all physically wanting to be caught in the nostalgia her familiar smell brought.

The sound of Sylvia putting the groceries away could be heard from behind Calum, and he fought the urge every cell in his body was igniting to turn around and watch her. She had a pull on him, like the opposite end of a magnet he was attracted to and was constantly being drawn towards. Of course, those sensations only began taking over him once more when she came back into his life. Calum figured the distance between Los Angeles and San Francisco was too much for her to have the same effect.

Except, Calum knew, that even when Sylvia was gone the overwhelming desire to go after her was suffocating. But she didn’t want him, and he needed to cope.

His gaze met Nana’s, who was still poised on the couch and looking up at him with the knowing glint returned in his light eyes. Calum felt the muscles in his back began to ache at the tension gathered, the sensation not unfamiliar from his time in the ring, slightly uncomfortable against Nana’s gaze.

She lowered her mug, holding it to her lap. “Pretending your relationship didn’t exist isn’t going to help matters.” Nana jutted her chin towards the kitchen. “Talk to her.”

Calum looked down at his own mug, the tea surprisingly nearly finished, though that’s what happened when he kept drinking it to avoid looking at or talking to Sylvia. He wondered if Nana had any idea how difficult her advice would be to follow; to actually go into the kitchen to talk to Sylvia. He wasn’t a coward—God, he wasn’t, and having to tell himself that repeatedly since Sylvia’s arrival was exhausting—but he just did not want to talk to her. He didn’t want to potentially open up old wounds that had yet to heal nor did he want to gain any reasons to be inflicted by new ones.

That girl had broken his heart. Ignoring the acknowledgement that his love for her was still so vehemently present, ignoring the ache it brought to know she most likely didn’t feel the same way, was better for him. For now, he didn’t need to have any kind of conversation. For now, he was fine with acting as if her presence did absolutely nothing for him.

“I can’t, Nana,” Calum finally told her, raspy voice a low mumble as he put the mug down on the coffee table, rubbing his hands down his jeans clad thighs. His eyes, for a moment, gazed around the living room he’d been in so many times before, yet somehow, right now, it felt like he was being smothered. Smothered by Sylvia’s childhood home and the countless days and nights he spent with her here when they weren’t at his apartment, by the memories that had been circling the outskirts of his thoughts like a predator ready to feed off the vulnerability he felt just by being there. Standing in this house made Calum feel like everything he worked hard not to be and, frankly, wasn’t unless Sylvia was in the picture: weak, anxious, unguarded.

Nana sighed. “Calum—”

“I’ll be back soon, yeah?” he gently cut her off, offering a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “I promise I’ll visit more,” he added sincerely, raising his eyebrows subtly to let her know he meant it. No more disappearing on a sweet old woman who he adored. Calum could still hear Sylvia shuffling about in the kitchen, and he pressed his lips together before bending down and kissing Nana’s cheek. “Bye, Nana.”

Calum felt her arms raise to give him a hug, still sitting down as he remained crouched to return the embrace. “Things will work out, sweetheart,” she assured him quietly in his ears. A knowing tint took over her voice, as if the wisdom she’s carried with her all these years was being accredited to the reassurance she was offering Calum. “A grandmother knows these things.”

He wanted to smile, to let out a quiet agreeing laugh and tell her he believed it. But Sylvia’s coconut scent was still lingering in his nose despite only being around her for thirty seconds and pictures of her in all stages of life were staring back at Calum, mocking him that he probably wouldn’t get to know her as continue to move forward with their lives.

It felt cruel and it twisted Calum’s heart painfully. He didn’t look back into the kitchen to where Sylvia was as he shoved his feet back into his sneakers and left the home. He didn’t look back, because his tense muscles refused to let him do so and because he’s had to watch her walk away from him. Even if she wasn’t looking at him now, couldn’t do so because it hurt her just as much as it did him, with bright blue eyes he often got lost in, at least it was him walking away this time. No matter how much he felt the pull to go right into the kitchen to where Sylvia was and—

He didn’t know what he was going to do if he went back in there. With Sylvia, he didn’t know what the fuck to do anymore.

                                                           *****

What they had was in the Before. Before—with a capital B, because when everything ended they were living in the After where it felt desolate and confusing and unknown. Because in the After, she wasn’t sure how to live a life that didn’t have him in it. The Before. . . It was perfect, almost. She was happy because she had him. He was there to hold her and kiss her and make her laugh, he made her feel like the most important person in the room, like every word she uttered held a great meaning to him.

Perfect, though, didn’t last forever. Because having to watch him get hurt, having to see him lying in a hospital bed more than once, having to feel so helpless during those occasions, felt as though a bullet was tearing through her heart and ricocheting around her body and sparing nothing to be damaged. It was dramatic, maybe, but loving someone that much shouldn’t have been so painful. It shouldn’t have felt as though she was struggling to keep up with her emotions, it shouldn’t have felt as though she was drowning when she couldn’t do so.

This place. .  . This was in the Before, and being there again was a stupid idea. Sylvia wondered, not for the first time, if Luann had some kind of agenda against her, specifically in regards of dragging Sylvia to places that she didn’t feel like she belonged in. First it was the Underground, bringing her to watch her ex’s match without her knowledge. Tonight, it was a get together. Which would be fine, seeing as it was filled with people she used to socially see all the time and had ultimately reduced to only seeing through social media posts after moving but was now reconnecting with them fully, except for the fact that it was Ashton’s get together in the apartment he shared with Calum. In the very apartment that Sylvia had been in multiple times before, in the very apartment she so clearly remembered being pressed against the wall and spread like a damn meal on the kitchen counter and feeling the air rush out of her through breathless laughter by feeling fingers tickling her body.

Everything was familiar, everything felt so eerily the same with the black leather couch and the records of bands loved by both Ashton and Calum framed on the walls and plants placed in corners and by windows. The people were the same too as Sylvia greeted those she knew, a few faces around the apartment new. It relaxed her a bit, the mixed drink in her cup helping ease her nerves, being able to talk to those she knew who conversed with her as if she had never left.

She and Luann had been getting coffee earlier that morning and ended up running into Ashton, leaving with an iced coffee in hand and red hair hidden under a beanie Sylvia couldn’t help but think it was too hot for. He greeted them with smiles and reminded Luann about a gathering type thing he was having at his place and then invited Sylvia since she was in town and everyone missed her. She had smiled, told him she’d drop by, even though she had planned to not go at all. Because Ashton lived with Calum, and even though his friends were some of hers as well, Sylvia wasn’t entirely sure about going to his apartment to hang out. Even though he’d shown up at her place without her knowing the other day.

But Luann all but dragged her over, insisting that because Sylvia was invited by a friend she had every right to attend despite the presence of her ex. Sylvia had argued but Luann was a stubborn one. Sometimes it was fun because Luann was always bringing Sylvia out of her comfort zone, and she had missed that while in San Francisco. In regards to this situation, though, Sylvia could’ve done without.

However, her drink was tasty and the conversations were easy and Calum. . . Wasn’t around.

Sylvia had arrived to the apartment alongside Luann about an hour ago, getting hugged by Michael and Ashton and then meeting a bunch of friends she hadn’t seen in a while as she tried to ignore the churn of twisting nostalgia she felt entering the familiar home. There were so many memories that she’d gathered during the year she had been dating Calum along with the couple of months prior where she had met him and the rest of the boys. Every single one tried to play through her mind as she wandered into the apartment, and Sylvia desperately tried to distract herself with drinks and mingling so she didn’t lose herself in the sentimentality of the past.

“First the ring and now his own home? You trying to win him back or something?”

The judgemental accusation in Luke’s voice wasn’t lost in the music playing throughout the apartment, prompting Sylvia to turn around from where she was facing the counter to pour herself another drink. Her gaze flickered up from her filled cup, looking ahead at the wall with shoulders tensing before her fingers wrapped around the cup and she slowly turned around with muscles going rigid in an act of defense.

Luke stood in front of her now, tall and blonde with an unimpressed expression peering down at her as he slowly raised his bottle of beer to his lips. “What?” Sylvia laughed out in surprise, eyebrows shooting up at the incredulity his words brought. Not just his words, though, but the way he uttered them; as if the very idea was something he was vehemently against and wasn’t going to hesitate on showing. “Win hi—I’m not trying to win him back?”

Her response came out as a question, eyebrows furrowing together in the middle of her reply because she wasn’t entirely sure how to answer. Especially with Luke standing in front of her, broad shoulders making him look like the most intimidating person she’s ever met and blonde hair not at all assisting in the angelic features he normally had. Right now, he was all judgment and not at all the friend she used to have, expression twisted into a disapproving look as he looked down at her in more than just the physical aspect.

“Then what’re you doing here?” Luke questioned, pulling his lips back and teeth baring briefly after he took a sip, dimples flashing briefly.

“I—” Sylvia hated that she felt an anxious ball of lead settle in her stomach, blinking up at Luke. The unhesitant hostility he was expressing tightened her throat, the initial feeling of not belonging she experienced when she went to the Underground the other day coming back fully. “Ashton invited me.” Straightening her shoulders, Sylvia clenched her jaw briefly as she added more firmly, “And Luann told me to come. If you’ve got an issue, take it up with them because clearly they’re fine with me being here.”

She’d found some courage within herself as she spoke to Luke, tone hardened and lips pursing defiantly after she spoke. Sylvia understood Luke wasn’t her biggest fan, his relationship with her best friend not doing much to allow him to forgive her for what she did to his best friend. God knows Sylvia would probably be acting the same way towards an ex of Luann’s who hurt her the way Sylvia hurt Calum. But it seemed as though Luke was forgetting that Calum wasn’t the only one who had been hurt after what happened, that he wasn’t the only one whose heart had broken after the end of their relationship.

Or, maybe since the break up had been Sylvia’s idea, her feelings after the fact didn’t matter.

She saw the clench of Luke’s jaw under the facial hair he was sporting, one eyebrow twitching to a raise subtly as he maintained the hard, intense eye contact. “Hanging around your ex’s apartment, the same ex who you dumped because you couldn’t bring yourself to be supportive and, you know, didn’t keep in contact with, is kind of a selfish move, Sylvia.”

His words were factual and snippy, but what really stung Sylvia was the casual way he spoke them in, as if this was exactly what Luke expected of Sylvia. Like she was the kind of person who broke hearts and then returned to rub it in the person’s face. And it made her feel nauseous, not at all believing it was the fruity alcoholic drink she was currently nursing, but the notion of her being selfish and the insinuation that she purposefully decided to hurt Calum because she just couldn’t be with him anymore. She loved him. God, she loved him so much and a part of her knew that she still did; so the accusation of her intentionally hurting Calum and the reminder that she did tightened Sylvia’s throat and made her want to throw up all at the same time.

The burning sensation was present in her eyes, but the tears weren’t those of upset or hurt—they were angry and frustrated because while she had been the one to break up with Calum, why was it okay to act as if she hadn’t hurt herself in the process?

“You know damn well why I broke up with him, Luke,” Sylvia hissed after finding her tongue, voice strained through the lump in her throat as her eyebrows drew together, glaring up at the blonde. “You know the fighting was getting too much; you know I couldn’t just stand there and watch him get punched and kicked, or sit there by his bedside after he broke his ribs or got a concussion.” Her words were quick and fierce, the anger seeping into them as well as the frightening reminder of all those moments she had to sit through, had to watch the man she loved get beaten during a particularly rough fight to the point he had to be hospitalized. Calum was an amazing fighter, and through that one fight Sylvia witnessed just recently she could tell he only improved. But there had been times where he had to be carried out of the ring, and if Sylvia didn’t love him anymore, she wouldn’t still be having nightmares about it.

She paused, throat working as she took in a deep breath, looking up at Luke whose expression wasn’t entirely accusatory anymore. His jaw was still tight, but Sylvia swore she saw some sympathy, some understanding, in the blue of his irises. Her body felt hot with the frustration and reminiscent pain of everything that happened, blinking as she reeled back slightly and looked down at her cup. “It wasn’t about not being supportive of Calum—” Sylvia looked up, her blue eyes locking with his. “You know I was, Luke. I think he’s incredible, and I know he’s gotten better.” She shrugged, defeated with a pathetically sad smile. “But it’s ruthless down there and every time he got in the ring I was terrified he wouldn’t get out. And if I had to witness something like that, I honestly don’t think I would be able to live through it.”

Her grip on her cup tightened slightly, her emotions laying heavily on her chest and her mouth dry from speaking. The music playing around her did nothing to drown out the sound of her wildly beating heart as it pounded heavily in her ears, her mind swirling with memories of her and Calum. Of shared kisses and secret smiles full of wordless conversations and tender touches that always left her feeling electric. But with that came the memories of a nervous heart and wringing fingers as she watched him get in the ring, watched fists fly and legs kick, and the utter terror of something horrific happening to the man she loved. Because in a ring like that where basically anything goes, Sylvia was lucky she still got to reunite with Calum in the first place.

With him still fighting, the alternate, she knew, was much more fatal.

“If he had stopped, would you’ve stayed?”

Luke’s question had the tendons in Sylvia’s neck tensing, because this wasn’t the first time she considered something like that. It wasn’t the first time she’d be disappointed by her own answer.

Sylvia liked her lips, tasting the bittersweet alcohol on them before she shrugged half heartedly. Pushing herself away from the counter, Sylvia responded tiredly, “He wouldn’t have stopped. It makes him happy.”

She’d already been walking away from Luke, no longer wanting to be a part of a conversation that only reminded her of the constant heartbreak she was fighting so hard to move past and was failing at doing so repeatedly. Still, over the music as she kept walking, she heard Luke’s response, his words just as factual as before, but this time holding a softness that had Sylvia’s heart lurching.

“You made him happier.”

                                                         *****

The smoke curled out of Calum’s lips, tendrils disappearing into the night sky as the taste of nicotine lingered on his tongue and in his lungs. He kept his eyes shut, blonde head tilted back against the bricked wall as he felt the warmth in his body intensify with every drag he took, washing over him in calming waves relaxing his muscles. Medically speaking, it wasn’t entirely a good idea to have a smoke minutes before he was to go into the ring and face off with someone since it would probably impair his breathing. But Calum wasn’t one for too many good ideas.

Which, as if on cue, could be proved when he opened his eyes and caught sight of the blonde woman stepping out of the bar across the street. Calum’s head straightened, eyebrows drawing together and eyes narrowing so he could see through the semi darkness of the late evening, the only lights being provided by the street lamps and store fronts. Even so, Calum could easily make out Sylvia walking out of the bar, running her fingers through her short blonde hair as she moved with quick purpose, eyebrows furrowing after he blinked in surprise when he recognized her.

The street between them was a one way, narrow with not much space between either side of it, and because of the lack of distance Calum could make out the expression on Sylvia’s face. Could see the controlled panic in her alarmed eyes and quick movements as she clutched her purse in one hand. For a moment, Calum wondered what had her moving so fast, until the door to the bar behind her swung open and out came a man definitely taller and bigger than Sylvia, with meaty hands reaching out to try and grab an obviously unwilling woman.

As he understood what was happening, Calum’s entire body tensed as the blood in his veins instinctively began boiling. He pushed himself away from the wall, cigarette dropping forgotten on the pavement as his sharp eyes assessed the situation from a distance, slowly and cautiously walking closer to the sidewalk with no intention of walking away.

Calum watched, hands clenching, as the guy’s hand wrapped around Sylvia’s arm, heard her exclaim in defiant protest from where she was, and that was enough to have Calum pushing off into a run. He barely glanced down the street to make sure a car wasn’t coming, sneakers thudding against the pavement as he reached the opposite sidewalk. It wasn’t as busy in the alley of a street, most people inside the bars or down in the ring watching whatever fight was taking place. It was eerily empty outside, which made it a horrifyingly perfect place for vile men to try to pull some shit with an unsuspecting woman. It was happening right in front of Calum and the fact that it was happening to Sylvia was only fueling the bloodlust he felt, reserved for his fight in a few minutes.

“Come on—you can’t be sittin’ there lookin’ like that and not expect me to want a taste.”

The repulsive words the guy was laughing out could be heard loud and clear in Calum’s ears as he neared them, both unaware of his threatening, purposeful strides towards them.

Calum saw Sylvia jerk under the guy’s grip, blue eyes widening in a mixture of panic and protesting anger—alarmed at the stronger man’s insistence and absolutely pissed that some guy had put his hands on her. Calum could see the fight or flight struggling for dominance in her eyes, but his own decision had already been made.

“’Ey!” Calum ground out once he was close enough, catching both of their attention with the deep baritone of his growling voice. He didn’t look at Sylvia, glare focused on the fucker who was still holding onto her. Calum clenched his fists; he was two seconds away from ripping the guy’s arm off. “Get your hand off of her before I fuckin’ break it.”

Calum saw the guy open his mouth, probably to add fuel to the fire, until a car drove past and the headlights briefly lit against Calum’s strong, intimidating features. Recognition flashed across the guy’s face as he caught sight of the shadowed, glaring attributes of Calum’s face , and maybe he wasn’t as drunk or as much of an idiot as he seemed because his hand was instantly letting go of Sylvia, taking a step back as he cursed, “Jesus—fuck—you’re Cal—you’re Hood.”

It was no secret that Calum Hood was a well known name on these streets, in this area, due to the reputation he’s accumulated for himself with every fight down below he’s won. No matter how many bruises discolored his skin or how much blood surfaced from his body after a fight, he had been damn near undefeated. And then he won against Danny Preston, effectively knocking him off the unofficial/official title of champion, and the fear Calum’s name brought only increased since then. A king in the ring, Calum was the fighter everyone bet on, that no one particularly wanted to go up against because while there were others who may be taller and even more built than him, it Calum’s focused determination and unforgiving strength that made him the best.

Their makeshift fight club wasn’t something they all went talking about, but its existence wasn’t a secret for those who worked along this street and who frequented it. Calum was, essentially, a household name; a name he worked tirelessly with blood and sweat to build up to be feared. And, when need be, he wasn’t afraid of using it to his own advantage.

“Yeah, I am,” Calum responded, voice tight with bubbling anger as he stalked closer. It was satisfying to watch the shaggy dark haired guy, an inch shorter than Calum yet impressively built, take a few steps back to put some distance. The fear that flashed across his blue eyes was the icing on the cake. Calum never wavered his gaze, strong and intense with dark eyes narrowed in mocking challenge because it was painfully obvious this guy didn’t have the balls to go up against him. Cocking an eyebrow, Calum questioned, “You gonna walk away from her now or am I gonna ’ave to do it myself?”

The guy left without another word, stumbling slightly as he did so, and the cowardice and Calum only having to use his words and not fists would’ve been funny if it weren’t for the circumstance of the situation. Calum watched him go, eyes burning his back until he disappeared around the corner, and Calum’s jaw ached from how tightly he’d been clenching it. He only loosened it when his lips parted, eyes finally landing on the woman standing in front of him, who’d ducked her head as she ran both her hands through her blonde hair.

Calum didn’t even wait for her to speak up when he demanded, “What the hell are you doin’ out here by yourself?”

Sylvia’s head snapped up to look at Calum, blue eyes meeting brown as her glossed lips parted. She looked momentarily surprised at his harsh tone, long lashes framing her blinking eyes before she started, “I was ju—I was having drinks with friends and I—”

“Decided to leave the bar so some drunk asshole could follow you out here where you’re alone?” Calum cut her off, frown deepening at the stupidity of her decision. He knew what had just happened was probably daunting for her, being approached by a persisting stranger, but the sight of it had Calum burning from the inside out. His anger towards the guy was mixed with the sheer panic of something happening to Sylvia. A soft, incredulous scoff escaped Calum as he gave a shake of her head, taking in the berated frown furrowing at her brows. “What would’ve happened if I hadn’t been out here, huh?” he continued to question, voice deep and sharp as he tilted his head, eyes narrowed. “What if no one was here and that guy—”

“What do you want me to say, Calum? That I’m sorry?” Sylvia interrupted, her own voice coated with frustration and maybe even annoyance. Calum wanted to laugh; was she seriously getting annoyed with him? She slapped her hands on her legs. “Well, I’m sorry for being an idiot. My friends left and I was panicking and I don’t think when I panic, alright?”

The scoff escaped Calum before he could help it, rolling his eyes and looking away as he muttered, “Yeah, no shit.”

His jaw clenched after he said that, and from his peripheral he saw Sylvia’s tense shoulders drop slightly, her own lips pressing together as she heard his words. It wasn’t lost on her that he was referring to when she ended their relationship, bitterly reminiscing the panic she had felt being in a relationship with an underground, illegal fighter that ultimately brought her to leave him. A decision that hung over both of them to this day.

Silence fell upon the two, distantly hearing the music pumping within the few bars scattered along the street, yet the sounds might as well be falling upon deaf ears. They were trapped in a thick bubble of tension, standing just a couple of feet away from one another while trying to both relax from the situation that just occurred as well as find a way out of the heart pinching discomfort Calum’s three word response brought.

Anger and hurt circled them both at different levels, with Sylvia as the one who’d reluctantly turned her back and Calum left to pick up his own broken pieces. He wondered if she felt the same tightness in her body as he did, one that rendered him frozen as he was struck with memories of a relationship ended against his will. He wondered if Sylvia felt guilty, if she’d shed tears when she left him. He wondered if she still cared.

He hated that he still wondered.

Calum heard her take in a soft breath, his gaze still on the brick wall to his left as Sylvia spoke in a calm, calculated tone that she probably thought didn’t expose any emotion, but Calum could hear the hurt she was trying to mask over a thick layer of indifference. “Thanks for helping me out,” she said after lightly clearing her throat. It was painfully satisfying, Calum realized, to know he still could tell what she was feeling just by her tone of voice. Could tell that she was trying to appear unaffected by his stinging comment and find an escape before things got worse as she added, “I’m gonna call an Uber and be out of here.”

“The fuck you are,” was Calum’s instant response, head turning to look at her again. He didn’t have any control over what she did, Calum knew that, but letting her get into an Uber in this side of town was not going to settle well with him. Ignoring the bewildered expression on her face, Calum added, “I’ll take you home. After the fight.”

Sylvia’s eyes widened, body tensing. “After the—no!” Her voice found some of its stubborn, eyebrows drawing together in protest as she humorlessly laughed out, “I’m not gonna watch you fight, Calum. No. I’ll just call a ride, you don’t have to take me home. I think you’ve met your heroic quota for the day.”

He was getting irritated, her protesting only annoying him more, but getting pissed at Sylvia wasn’t going to do him any favors. But Calum was just so damn frustrated at Sylvia; at her for putting herself in a potentially dangerous situation because he knew she was smarter than that, and because he couldn’t fucking differentiate between his own feelings. The anger was mixing in with the ever-present hurt and the consistent heartbreaking love he felt for the woman in front of him. Her presence fucking hurt and her refusal to stick around long enough to witness his match was a stinging reminder of why she broke up with him. Because that’s all Calum did; think of Sylvia and how she wasn’t his anymore.

All this love still existed, and it was killing Calum for leaving it untouched.

“It’ll be a two minute match, Sylvia.” Calum spoke with a calmed tone, trying to keep the tight aggravation out of his voice in an attempt of allowing his suggestion to sound more appealing. It was a long shot, given Sylvia’s dislike of fights, but it was worth a try if it meant she didn’t go home by herself. Calum gestured towards the building where the ring was underneath of. “You can sit in the locker room with Mike if you don’t wanna watch. ’M sure he won’t mind.”

Sylvia licked her lips, taking a breath as she began shaking her head. “It’s not necessary, Calum. I can—”

“Please, doll.” The term of endearment slipped past Calum’s mouth before he could even think about it, rolling off his tongue effortlessly as he briefly pressed his lips together. His throat worked at the purse of Sylvia’s lips, trying to hide her own subtle surprise at his use of it. A slip of the tongue, she would think it was. Calum wouldn’t tell her how easy it was to call her something he’d always refer to her as when they’d been together. Wouldn’t tell he how natural it felt to do so. The tension in his voice was gone, the use of the term spreading a softness through his muscles Calum hadn’t seen coming, but didn’t try to fight like he did everything else. The way her eyebrows drew together ever so slightly told Calum that his little slip struck some kind of cord inside her, that in some way, he still had some kind of effect on her.

“I’ll skip the fight and take you home right now if you want.” That, if Calum was being honest, wasn’t something he expected himself to say. But the words had been uttered, almost too easily, and his stomach churned with the realization that he’d much rather Sylvia be safe in her home than have her wait underground where dozens of strange people linger while he engaged in a fight. Even if it meant he’d be forfeiting any potential earnings from the night.

He saw the way Sylvia’s eyes widened ever so slightly at his offer, utterly surprised that he would suggest it. Fighting in that ring had always come first for Calum, for the most part, especially because it was how he made his living. Offering to forgo earning anything struck Sylvia, her chest tightening at the knowledge of him doing so just for her. The fact that he looked so genuine, so ready to do so just so she was home safe, had her throat drying. There had been times where Sylvia would look for reasons to keep Calum out of the ring, too scared of him getting hurt, and now here he was, offering to do so on his own accord.

Then it was her turn to surprise them both. “No.” Calum quirked an eyebrow, the shock evident in just his eyes and Sylvia swallowed. “I can wait.”

                                                        *****

It had been guilt that made her want to wait, Sylvia realized later when she watched Calum step into the ring within the underground cave, surrounded by guttural and gruff cheers with the scent of alcohol, blood and sweat lingering heavily in the air. It had been guilt that made Sylvia tell Calum she was fine with waiting, because watching him now, in trainers and athletic shorts and wrapped up hands with a sternly determined expression on his face and brown eyes glinting with focus, had Sylvia remembering that this was where he belonged.

He was a champion up there; with the dim lights of the cave-like area glowing against his inked brown skin and the warm atmosphere readily providing him a thin layer of sweat before the fight even begun. He was a champion with the spectators cheering him on, knowing he was going to kick his opponent’s ass and win both himself and everyone who bet on him some money. He was a champion because he fought with his entire body and had the drive of a winner, and Sylvia didn’t want to take that away from him.

Which was a slap in the face, seeing as she broke his heart because he wouldn’t give up something he excelled at.

She’d been selfish, Sylvia understood as the fight begun, and she stood quietly between Michael and Ashton in the same spot she’d stood several times during the year she and Calum had been together. Right by the ring, with her eyes on the now blonde fighter, praying that he would win.

It was like nothing had changed, but that was a bitter lie. Calum may still be fighting, Sylvia may still be watching him, and the love they shared may still be present with the other being completely oblivious, but they weren’t together. They were two people unknowingly hurting because they loved the other too much, and neither was aware of how to move past it.

If only they knew what the other was feeling more than just what they showed.

Calum’s hits were perfectly timed and agile, his opponent, Allan, struggling to keep up already. Sylvia was deaf to the noise around her, including the shouts emitted by Ashton, Michael and Luke, a muffled ringing in her ears and gaze focused on Calum. It was reminiscent of how it used to be; of how Sylvia would only ever stand and watch Calum with nails absently picking at one another, eyes tracking his every movement and taking note of any injury he was inflicted by. Her heart remained in a tight knot within her chest, breathing tense and strained out of the familiar worry she felt for the blonde in the ring.

His necklace swung around his neck and hit against his chest with every quick movement, light on his feet as the soft ends of his blonde hair stuck with sweat to his forehead. Sylvia hated that she felt an intrigued twisting in her stomach when she watched the muscles in Calum’s back shift when he delivered a right hook, knuckles connecting with Allan’s jaw, not even giving him a second to recover as his left fist flew with an uppercut and collided with Allan’s chin to knock him on his back.

Sylvia was vaguely aware of everyone’s shouts of approval at the sight, though all she could hear was the sharp breath of relief she exhaled through her nose before swallowing the anxious lump in her throat.

The fight continued when Allan got to his feet after Calum loomed over his body for a few moments, and Sylvia couldn’t look away. It was a morbid kind of fascination, she had determined a year ago, because although the sight of Calum drawing blood from someone else or bleeding himself made her nauseous and pierced her heart, she could never look away. It was like witnessing a car accident; you knew the sight before you was about to be horrific, but tearing your eyes away never crosses your mind. You just keep staring, and Sylvia was intimately familiar with that notion when it came to watching Calum fight.

It was only a small relief that he was so damn good at it. Luke had been right; Calum had improved exponentially. Sylvia would be lying if she said her heart didn’t swell with conflicting pride.

And when Calum soon enough knocked out Allan, standing in the middle of the ring with only a slightly out of breath chest and skin glowing with sweat, his eyes met Sylvia’s. She stood there, clapping for him while the crowd roared with cheers, unable to keep the smile from curling at her lips as she did so. Maybe it was a trick of the light, but Sylvia saw his own lips shift into a smile of his own as he watched her clap for him.

It felt like nothing had changed and, for that moment, they pretended it hadn’t.

                                                           *****

“I think it’d be better if you stayed the night.”

Sylvia was well aware her words were in reference to the sudden thunderstorm that hit them out of nowhere, but warmth that spread on her cheeks was insistent when Calum glanced over at her. They were sitting in his car, the familiar scent of mint and leather and Calum overwhelming Sylvia’s senses, parked in the driveway of Nana’s house, as the playlist Calum had on played softly in the background, though it was drowned out by the sound of heavy rain falling outside, the harsh droplets thudding with a subtle echo against the car. Every few seconds lightning flashed and thunder rumbled, and after checking the weather on her phone, Sylvia saw this wasn’t letting up until tomorrow.

When Calum didn’t say anything, the heat in Sylvia’s cheeks annoyingly intensified and she pathetically stammered, “You live on the other side of town and I don’t—it might be too dangerous for you to drive back, y’know? It’s safer for you to stay here, I think.”

The way she gracelessly stumbled over her words was but an aching reminder that things between them had changed. In this moment, Sylvia was nervous around Calum, something she had never been even before they had started dating. With him, everything had been easy. They’d been different; he’d never been closed off from her. They’d instantly clicked as friends, that same energy only helping them in falling for each other ultimately. Happy and in love is what they’d been. Now, there was only room for confusion and frustration it seemed.

Calum eyed Sylvia, took in the way her skin glowed and eyes glittered against the blue lighting of his stereo, the shadows of rain droplets against his windshield bouncing off her pretty face. He refused to let his eyes wander any lower, to let his gaze drop to the V-neckline of the red satin with lace trim spaghetti strapped top she was wearing that made him desperately want to press his lips to the skin of her neck, pretty and in his complete view.

Staying the night at her place had, at one time, meant something else. Calum was pathetically unsure if he had it in him to spend the night under different circumstances.

“’S not necessary,” Calum responded, forcing himself to look ahead out the windshield, muscle in his jaw ticking briefly. “The rain probably isn’t as bad as it lo—”

His words were cut off by the sound of a blaring, familiar alarm going off, the unexpected sound prompting both of them to jump in the leather seats of Calum’s car. Realizing it was coming from both of their phones, Sylvia and Calum pulled out the devices, and his grip on his phone tightened when he saw the Emergency Alert informing them of flash flooding taking place, a sign from the universe that it would be impossible for Calum to drive anywhere, much less back home.

Calum pursed his lips as he cleared the alert, hand wrapped around his phone as he locked it and rested it against his lap. He leaned his head against the seat, staring up at the roof of the car as rain continued to pour relentlessly, and let out a breath that sounded too loud in the otherwise quiet of the car. This was definitely the universe, Calum decided, telling him to stay put against his will.

They were quiet for a tense moment until he heard Sylvia ask, “Wanna go in?”

Calum sucked his teeth before straightening, briefly glancing her way as he killed the engine of the car and pulled out his keys. “Yeah. ’M gonna grab my bag from the trunk.”

They both moved quickly, with Calum running towards the trunk, the cold rain instantly soaking him as his clothes stuck to his body and goosebumps raised on his skin. As he popped open the trunk, he watched through the rain with squinting eyes as Sylvia ran towards the door, reaching the protection of the porch of the house, and Calum quickly pulled out his gym bag before shutting the trunk, locking the car and running up to the house, feeling his sneakers squeak as he did so.

Sylvia was already inside the house when Calum reached the porch, entering quietly as he realized all the lights save for a single lamp in the living room were off, telling him Nana was fast asleep, given that it was nearing midnight. He frowned at the floor, not too keen on getting it wet as he dripped from head to toe, only looking up when he heard the flick of a switch and saw Sylvia standing in the doorway of the bathroom to his left.

For the life of him, he tried not to pay any attention to how her clothes stuck to her body as well, how droplets of water trailed down the column of her throat and line of her collarbones, or the impossibly thin material of her top looked like second skin, the sudden cold weather doing the perfect job of making her nipples peak under the material. Of course she wasn’t wearing a bra.

And given that it was Sylvia, the blood rushed through Calum’s veins a bit too harshly, trying so fucking hard not to remember how his lips felt against her skin when he used to have the pleasure of tasting every inch of her.

“You can change in here,” Sylvia told him, pressing her hands against her short hair to slick it back and over her ears. It gave Calum a wonderful view of her gorgeous face, shining because of the onslaught of rain. Her eyes flickered into the bathroom as she added, “Extra towels are—”

“In the closet by the sink,” Calum finished, prompting Sylvia’s gaze to turn back to him, and he offered a nod with the subtlest quirk of his lips. “I remember.”

Her chin lifted slightly, wishing that didn’t affect her as much as it did, before nodding as she gave a closed mouth smile. “Okay. I’ll, uh,” she paused, a nervous laugh breathlessly tumbling past her lips as she took a step back, “I’ll let you get to it.”

Calum watched her turn around to head down the hall to where her bedroom was, her hand coming up to rub at the back of her neck as her rings glittered briefly under the hallway light. He remained where he stood, feeling the water slide down his skin and drip onto the floor, not missing the way Sylvia allowed herself to glance over her shoulder to look at Calum one last time. Their eyes met once more, briefly as the distance between them grew, and it would be a lie to say the electricity that coursed through their veins at the quickest connection of gazes wasn’t as jolting as the lightning outside.

                                                             *****

The blades of the fan were hypnotizing as he watched them spin, their steady rhythm not doing much to help Calum fall asleep. Instead he lay there, in the guest bedroom of Sylvia’s house, right arm folded behind his head as he found himself wondering how the hell he ended up there. The mattress he laid on was soft and comfortable, and the scent of the room reminded him of autumn and Calum was sure it was because of a candle that had probably been lit earlier, knowing of Nana’s adoration and vast collection of Yankee Candles. The rain outside was coming down fast and thudding against the window to his right, but that had little to do with Calum being unable to fall asleep. It had everything to do with him being in Sylvia Westfield’s home.

Rather than losing himself in thoughts of Sylvia, which Calum had been doing for days now ever since she came back into his life, he got up from the bed with a huff after checking his phone to see that it was only one thirty, only an hour and a half since they’d arrived. His throat felt dry, so he opened the door to make his way to the kitchen to get a glass of water, stopping when he emerged into the living room and caught sight of Sylvia sitting in the dark, the room lit up only by the glow of the television opposite of her as it played at a low volume.

He’d been scratching the back of his head as he walked in, Sylvia oblivious to his presence, and his hand dropped to his side when he neared the couch behind her and gazed at the television. “You still watch Ramsay videos before bed?”

The baritone of his deep, slightly hoarse voice sounding right behind her unexpectedly had Sylvia jumping in surprise where she sat, a gasp choking out of her throat as she leaned to the side to look up at Calum. He returned her gaze, apology mixing with amusement, as she blinked up at him with wide blue eyes. “Don’t sneak up on me like that!” she exclaimed in a whisper, pressing a hand to her chest as her shoulders relaxed. When his question registered, Sylvia glanced towards the TV before looking back at Calum, wisps of hair that escaped from her lazy half up-do grazing her cheeks and jaw as she answered, “And yeah, I do.” She quirked a brow. “Wanna join?”

It kind of unnerved Calum that he didn’t really think about it, forgetting all about his water as he walked around the couch and settled onto the couch to Sylvia’s left. She sat with her bare legs crossed, and for a moment Calum regretted his decision to join her when he noticed her in nothing but an oversized UCLA shirt that gathered at her lap. He should’ve known better, should’ve recalled that Sylvia only liked to sleep in big shirts and her underwear because it had always fucking driven him crazy catching sight of her like that. Had always pulled her shirt off or torn away her underwear damn near animalistically because the sight of her dressed in just that had been too inviting.

That, he knew, hadn’t changed.

Hoping to distract himself, Calum looked at the TV, leaning back on the couch as he questioned in reference to the video, “Which one is this?”

“One hour of him hating food,” Sylvia responded with an airy chuckle. “It’s almost done. I was gonna watch videos of him insulting asshole chefs and owners next.”

Calum let out a soft laugh, watching as Gordon Ramsay returning a meal because he couldn’t afford a heart attack. “Still so cynical, aren’t you?” he mused, watching the video playing in front of him. “The fact that watching people get reamed on by Ramsay helps you sleep at night is worrying.”

The teasing tone that slipped into his voice had happened so naturally, so effortlessly, that Calum barely noticed it until Sylvia was letting out a soft giggle and gesturing to the TV with her hand. “If they insist their food is excellent when it obviously isn’t, they should be prepared to get shat on by the King of Mean!”

He couldn’t keep in his own laughter, right arm that had been propped on top of the couch bending as he rubbed the back of his head with his hand. Calum’s smile only widened as his giggles, an adorable mixture of raspy and squeaky, intensified when he watched Ramsay blow off parsley that was decorated on his plate before insulting the salmon he was to eat.

That was how they spent the next hour—or maybe more, since Calum was losing track of time as they continued watching more videos. And that’s all that mattered during that time, because this was familiar. This was something they used to do all the time. Before they went to bed, whether it be hers or his, Sylvia would pull out her phone or her laptop and go onto YouTube to watch these Gordon Ramsay videos. At first, Calum had thought it was the strangest thing, thought there were literally millions of other kinds of videos to watch before bed if Sylvia should choose to do so. Watching Ramsay harshly go at restaurant owners and chefs? It was definitely weird.

But then Sylvia would giggle at certain remarks Ramsay would make, would mutter her own colorful comments at the assholes shown in the videos, and eventually Calum found himself rolling over and pressing himself into her side, cheek resting on her arm or chest, and watching the videos with her in the dark of the room. It had become a routine, and when once watching those videos before bed had been only her thing, it soon enough became their thing.

Then they broke up, and Calum reluctantly broke the habit, not allowing himself to do something he used to once do with Sylvia. Until tonight.

“He’s such a dumbass!” Sylvia was laughing, struggling to keep her voice quiet because Nana was asleep right down the hall, one hand covering her mouth. Calum, too, was struggling to keep it down as well, slouching on the couch and pressing himself against it with his left elbow propped on the armrest and fist pressing against his own lips. His chest hurt gloriously as he tried to stay silent, knowing that too much sound traveled in the house and the last thing he wanted to do was wake up Nana. Still, both his and Sylvia’s laughter was muffled against the sound of the rain pelting outside. “I mean,” she began, wheezing through her laughs, “he tells Ramsay he’s been taught by some of Europe’s best chefs and then claims he isn’t a chef because Ramsay’s putting him in his place? The stupidity is unmatched!”

“Shh, shh,” Calum shushed through his own giggles, right hand waving at her quickly. He couldn’t remember the last time his cheeks hurt from smiling, from laughing so much. He didn’t even understand how he could feel so relaxed next to her, after trying to keep his guard up. But then again, it had been too easy for Calum to admit to himself that what he had once felt for Sylvia was still there, had never left. And try as he might to appear indifferent, to act as if his love for her was an idea of the past, he couldn’t lie to himself. He couldn’t disregard the fact that the reason this felt so easy, so effortless, was because he was still so God damn in love with her. “You’re gonna wake up Nana.”

Sylvia kept laughing, though she tried to press her lips together despite the sounds hoping to bubble past her mouth. She closed her eyes, the video they watched far too amusing, shaking her head and laughing as her hand reached up and absently grabbed onto the one he’d been waving. Her body leaned into his as she continued giggling, and Calum’s own softened at the first touch of Sylvia’s skin against his.

His laughter faltered, eyes dragging to the way her fingers had innocently wrapped around his, and suddenly Calum’s heart was in his throat because the touch was so fucking familiar. He was pretty sure she didn’t even realize how she’d grabbed onto his hand, as if it was only to anchor her from the laughter the videos they were watching enticed and she wasn’t at all thinking of what her hand in his would make him feel. And maybe she wasn’t, but that didn’t meant Calum wasn’t feeling a sudden warmth spreading through his body originating from a shock her touch instinctively brought.

The same electrifying, buzzing jolt Calum felt every single fucking time Sylvia touched him when they first dated. The feeling was still there, still ever present, and it had his heart rate picking up almost too fucking fast. His eyes were on their joined hands, on how her nimble fingers contrasted against his bruised ones, on his brown skin standing out against her paler tone. Everything else, in that moment, seemed to melt away as neither the TV still playing or the rain still falling registered in Calum’s head, his only focus on the girl still leaning towards him, her achingly nostalgic fruity scent washing over him, her giggles slowly silencing as she gathered her wits about her and raised her ducking head.

Their eyes met just as she did so, and it was like Sylvia was being thrown back into reality as the smile slowly faltered from her lips when she realized the position she was currently in; so close to Calum, mere inches away, with thighs pressed together and hands still being held. They grew silent, even their soft breaths unheard over the rain, and Calum felt his stomach lurch when he noticed Sylvia’s blue eyes drop down to his lips. Felt slightly betrayed when the urge to kiss her hit him like a truck.

He could feel himself lean forward as his own gaze went to her lips, pink and making him desperately want to kiss them, and felt his chin jut forward gently as he felt his fight weaken and allowed himself to give into the desire of pressing his lips to hers. Just a little bit more, and he’d taste her once again.

It was like a switch went off in Sylvia’s mind, and she was pulling away with a sharp breath and a hasty, shaken statement of, “I’m gonna go to bed.”

She didn’t even bother shutting off the TV, stumbling to her feet as she made her way to her bedroom, not even bothering a glance towards Calum. He remained on the couch, chest tight and mind racing with his heart pounding in his ears. So close, they’d come so close. It was fucking killing him.

He shut the TV off with a sigh and wondered, not for the first time, when she would stop walking away from him. Or, better yet, when he’d stop caring that she did.

                                                         *****

“Oh, look who just walked in—Calum, hello, sweetheart!”

Sylvia’s eyes widened, damn near choking on her drink. “Wha—Nana, no!” she stammered out in a whispered exclaim, lowering her glass and turning around, catching sight of the familiar blonde over the back of the booth she was seated in. When she saw Calum look over to where they sat, she quickly turned back to glare at her smiling grandmother. “What are you doing?”

Nana threw a quick frown at her before smiling. “You two need to move past your issues, baby. He’s finally started coming back around and I won’t have you drive him away.”

Her words had Sylvia’s jaw slackening, unsure if she should feel amused or incredulous at her grandmother’s dismissal. Sylvia wasn’t driving Calum away—she was avoiding him which, she knew, wasn’t any better. But after their almost kiss a few days ago, an almost kiss neither of them had expected to happen and left her stomach in knots and head riddled with memories of his lips against hers, Sylvia wasn’t entirely ready to see Calum again after that fiasco.

God. Nana was worse than Luann, it seemed.

“Hey, Nana,” Calum’s voice had Sylvia sitting up, the smooth baritone running a shiver down her spine as she kept her gaze fixated on her chicken club sandwich in front of her, her blonde hair tickling the skin of her bare shoulders thanks to her halter top. “Sylvia.”

She barely glanced his way, offering a fleeting smile and only being able to see his green and black plaid pants in her peripheral, as Nana looked up at him and patting the booth seat. “Sit with us, honey. Unless you’ve got somewhere to be.”

Sylvia didn’t look at him, instead her eyes flickered up to look at her grandmother with a warning expression coating her features which went ignored. Her tense shoulders only tightened more when she heard Calum said, “Uh, yeah, sure. ’M just gonna grab my food.”

He walked away, footsteps receding over the sound of the light music playing through the speakers of the cafe, and Sylvia finally lifted her head to stare at her grandmother as she folded her arms on the wooden tabletop. “Why?” was all she asked.

Nana clicked her tongue, looking disappointed at Sylvia’s obvious protest of Calum joining them. “Oh, honey, you two used to be so close. We’d always go out and eat together, it made me so happy. I just wanted some more of that.”

The nostalgic tone in Nana’s voice had Sylvia pressing her lips together, feeling a bit guilty for being so adamantly against this. Of course Sylvia had been aware of how close Nana and Calum used to be, remembered how he helped around the house just because he wanted to, because he like taking care of both Sylvia and Nana. God, she couldn’t just take away this rekindling between Calum and her grandmother just because she wasn’t sure of how to deal with her own issues, could she?

“Is that all you’re eating?” Nana questioned incredulously once Calum slid into the booth, sitting directly opposite of Sylvia, with a plate of a near pathetic looking turkey sandwich. When Calum raised his eyebrows at Nana, gaze involuntarily flickering to Sylvia who was paying too much attention to her own sandwich, Nana let out a huff. “That’s going to do nothing for you. You’re a growing man. Here, take some of my salad and fries.”

Calum’s lips parted, sounds of protest escaping him, and this time Sylvia couldn’t help but watch in amusement as Nana pushed her untouched bowl of salad towards Calum before transferring some of her French fries to his plate. He suddenly resembled a child, trying to get her to stop as he watched her with widened eyes and stammered, “What ’bout your lunch?”

“My sandwich is filling enough,” she responded, waving him off. “And I had a big breakfast. Eat up.”

Sylvia rolled her lips into her mouth, watching as Calum huffed out a breath before looking down at his plate. He was never one to not listen to Nana, and Sylvia realized it still endeared her now as it did the first time when Calum listened to her without too much of a fight, aware that he saw her grandmother as a mother figure and had a great amount of respect for her. So he smiled, letting out a short laugh before picking up a fork and pulling the salad towards him.

“So how’s everything with you, honey?” Nana asked Calum, never one for awkward silences which were bound to exist with Calum and Sylvia sitting across from each other. Hopefully Nana could be a buffer. “Are you still playing the guitar?”

He let out a close mouthed chuckle, a forkful of salad in his mouth as he nodded. “Badly, yeah,” Calum responded after swallowing, his gaze on the old woman next to him.

Nana scoffed at his words, very much doubtful of his answer as Sylvia remained silent, listening to them talk as she ate. She was getting such an intense sense of dejá vú, remembering the countless of times she’d be having a meal with her grandmother and Calum, listening to the two of them chatter away like old friends while Sylvia listened along intently, always feeling a wave of comfort at the knowledge of two of her favorite people getting along so damn well. That feeling, warm and fluttering, was still present, Sylvia realized, as she ate her sandwich and watched the two of them across from her.

“You never played the guitar badly,” Nana responded, the reassurance thick in her tone as she shot Calum a look. “I remember you’d play for Sylvia in our backyard all the time and I just loved hearing the sound of your guitar flowing through my house. I often miss it.”

Nana’s words had Sylvia’s heart jumping into her throat, feeling the blood rush behind her ears as she flickered her gaze up. She looked at Calum, caught sight of his profile as he had been looking at Nana, and noticed the subtle falter in his smile as he heard her grandmother’s words, his own gaze lowering slightly. The reminder of him playing his guitar for Sylvia, something he used to do quite often just for her, felt like a bucket of ice water was being poured over both of their heads, freezing them in place.

It was one of Sylvia’s favorite things, Calum playing the guitar for her. When he first started doing it, he’d been nervous, constantly telling her he wasn’t that good at it before playing as a way of keeping her expectations low. It had been endearing, she recalled, to see him so nervous before he played when she was so used to the confident, smug, and damn near arrogant aura she’d see around him before he stepped into the ring. To see him fiddle with his ring clad fingers before settling over the strings of the guitar and anxiously chew on his lower lip before playing had been a drastic change in persona, and it took Sylvia by surprise before she quickly realized that she loved that side of Calum just as much as she did any other. And, God, did she miss all of him.

Sylvia noticed the way Calum’s eyes briefly slid over to her, the action so quick she would’ve missed it had she blinked, because suddenly he was straightening his shoulders and forcing a smile back onto his full lips as he said to Nana, “Guess I’ll have to come by and play just for you, then.”

Nana raised a hand, fondly and affectionately patting Calum’s cheek, and Sylvia’s heart felt light when she saw the utter adoration her grandmother had for Calum. It made her breath catch to see Calum return it. “I look forward to it.”

                                                           *****

“Yay, you’re here! Sit! I’ll be right back, I have to pee.”

Sylvia blinked at Luann’s words as she reached the bar, being able to hang out with her friends since her mom was in town and spending time with Nana, eyebrows raising before she asked her best friend, “Do you want me to go with you?”

Luann waved her off, puckering her lips with a wave of her hand. “No, no. Order your drink. I’ll be back in a minute,” she insisted, hopping off the stool and pressing a chaste kiss to Luke’s lips before she grabbed her purse and headed to the back of the bar where the bathrooms were.

Still standing, Sylvia gripped the strap of her own purse, pressing her red lips together as her gaze slid over to the man sitting with his back against the bar to her left, offering the smallest of smiles to Luke as he sipped his own drink. He looked back at her, blue eyes dancing under the colorful lights of the bar, blonde curls framing his face, and Sylvia tried not to bristle under his stare.

The two of them hadn’t spoken since they were at Ashton’s get together, but Sylvia hadn’t forgotten Luke’s words. Could hear his voice echoing in her head, telling her that Calum was happier with her. It haunted her, especially when she saw Calum after that, with Luke’s comment ever present in the back of her mind.

“What’re you drinking?” His voice pulled her out of her thoughts, gaze meeting his expectant one.

It took a moment for Luke’s question to register in Sylvia’s mind before she finally answered, “Rum and Coke.”

Luke nodded, looking over his shoulder at the bartender and flagging him down, telling him Sylvia’s order and putting it on his tab before the guy nodded and began preparing it. It was ready quickly and Luke handed her the glass, which Sylvia took silently before saying, “Thanks. You didn’t have to.”

“Consider it an apology,” Luke responded, his words making Sylvia furrow her eyebrows in confusion, and Luke let out a breath. “I’m sorry for acting like an ass towards you. It wasn’t fair. I was just trying to—”

“Protect Calum?” When Luke nodded with a purse of his lips, dimples appearing briefly, Sylvia offered a small smile, one hand gripping the glass while her fingers played with the thin black straw. “I get it. I’d be the same way if it was Luann.”

“Yeah, she uh,” Luke paused to let out a breathless, almost sheepish laugh. “She figured out my, uh, behavior towards you and she was pissed. Gave me a bit of perspective on your side of the story. I guess I saw past my own anger on behalf of Calum to understand that you were hurting too, you know?” Luke gave a shrug of his broad shoulders, lips quirking. “Calum didn’t really show any anger after you left. I guess I was just projecting for him.”

At that, Sylvia’s eyebrows furrowed together as she took a sip of her drink, the cool beverage tickling her throat as she lowered the glass, head turning ever so slightly questioningly. “He didn’t—he wasn’t mad?”

Luke gave a shake of his head, blonde curls bouncing ever so slightly. “He was. . . Heartbroken and upset, yeah. But I don’t think he ever really was angry with you.” Sitting up, Luke licked his lips as he continued, “Like, I think he was definitely angry that the relationship ended and that you were gone, because I saw him take all of that out in the ring, but angry with you? I don’t think so. He never said a single bad thing about you. I don’t think he ever could, if I’m being honest.”

“I thought. . .” Sylvia trailed off, Luke’s words hitting her harder than she expected, lips parted and eyebrows drawn together. After she ended the relationship, Sylvia had been sure that Calum would never want to see her again, the very thought of it kept her up most nights after she left. But what Luke was telling her, it made her heart lurch and throat tighten exponentially. “I thought he’d hate me.”

At that, Luke let out a breathy, surprised laugh as his eyebrows raised. Sylvia wasn’t sure why that was funny, because it had been a genuine worry of hers. Just because she had been the one to end things, didn’t mean she stopped caring about Calum. She didn’t break up with him because she stopped loving him; she did it because she loved him so damn much and watching him step into a ring where there were no rules and anything could go wrong had been excruciating to witness.

And then Luke really took her breath away when he answered with a genuine, truthful statement of, “He’s not capable of it.”

One would think after hearing Luke say that, Sylvia wouldn’t try to avoid Calum too much as they all hung out at the bar. But she did, instead keeping close to Luann and the rest of the boys as more of their mutual friends showed up at the bar to hang out. Sylvia didn’t plan on drinking too much, despite the fact that she desperately wanted to and was getting jealous of Luann as she progressively got more shit faced as the night went on. But Sylvia was a bit too paranoid of doing something stupid if she ended up drunk—too paranoid of being around Calum while she was wasted.

Eventually, she found herself stepping outside to get a breath of fresh air, the bar beginning to get a bit too stuffy as Sylvia mentally berated herself for wearing a full sleeved top. It may be cropped to show off some skin but, shit, she really hated herself for her choice of tops.

She smiled at the tall bouncer as he opened the door for her to allow her to step out, nodding when he questioned if she would come back inside. The sidewalk outside the bar was somewhat busy, a small queue to get inside as Sylvia took in a breath, running her fingers through her short blonde hair to push it out of her face.

“You’ve got a bad habit of leaving bars by yourself at night.”

Sylvia turned her head to the left at the sound of the familiar voice over the muffled music of the bar, before looking to her right when she didn’t catch sight of him, gaze ultimately landed on Calum leaning against the brick wall next to the club, next to the window of a sandwich shop that was closed for the night. Her heart lurched violently in her chest as she took him in, black jeans and checkered Vans with a simple grey tee and leather jacket on top. A chain was hanging around his neck, and ring clad fingers were gripping a lit cigarette as he bent his left leg at the knee, foot pressed against the wall behind him.

She swallowed at his words, easily remembering the last time they’d encountered one another outside of a bar, crossing her arms over her chest as she faced him. “You’ve got a bad habit in general,” Sylvia responded, nodding to the cancer stick in his hand as she cautiously took a few steps towards him.

He offered a lazy grin, the red sign of the bar above glowing against his skin, bathing him in the tint, a color she’d seen him in too often in the element of blood. The warm Los Angeles air did nothing to quell the goosebumps rising on Sylvia’s skin from being under Calum’s gaze, coming to stand in front of him, a responsible amount of distance between them.

“What doesn’t kill me makes me stronger, eh?” Calum returned, tone husky, as he brought the cigarette up to his lips.

As he took a drag, the end lighting up a flaming ember, Sylvia raised an eyebrow, wondering if he was being serious. Still, she reminded, “Cigarettes can kill you. Lung cancer says hi.”

Calum slid his lips to the side ever so slightly, blowing out a billow of smoke so it didn’t fly back into Sylvia’s face, his brown eyes intense and never leaving her. It was unnerving how the heat of his gaze was still enough to spread a warmth throughout Sylvia’s skin. “Think we both know if there’s anything that can kill me, it’s bein’ in the ring.” His eyes gave her a once over, lazy in the movement of his eyes, quirking a brow as his eyes met hers and he questioned, “That’s why you left me, isn’t it?”

The warmth suddenly vanished, and Sylvia was left feeling cold by Calum’s words as her back tensed, expression falling at the expectant, knowing look on his face. “Calum—”

“Don’t try to talk your way out of this one, Sylvia. We both know it’s true,” he cut in, giving a single shrug of his shoulder as he gestured towards her with his cigarette, the mere act radiating accusation. “You hated that I fought and rather than talkin’ to me ’bout it, you just broke up with me without lettin’ me get a word in and left with that convenient job offer of yours to hold you over. Love ’em and leave ’em, yeah?”

His words felt like a slap in her face, heart stopping in her chest as she stared at him. Sylvia’s surprised, hurt expression matched that of the twisting of her stomach, feeling her nose burn as a call to the tears that were soon going to spring in her eyes. The bitterness in Calum’s voice didn’t go unheard, a simmering fire in his dark eyes that provided no warmth whatsoever, rather made her feel like she was about to be burned alive. In that moment, Sylvia was really questioning Luke’s words of Calum being incapable of hating her because right now, he looked and sounded very capable and very willing of it.

She tried to gather the courage to speak up, averting her gaze to the wall rather than Calum, forcing the words out of a tight throat as she kept her arms crossed over her chest. “If we talked about it, it would just end up with me asking you to walk away from fighting.” Her voice was quiet, somewhat trembling, as she looked back at a stoic Calum. “It wasn’t my place to ask that of you just because I was scared. Especially when you love it so much.”

Her words were a trigger, Sylvia supposed, watching as she blinked in surprise when Calum tossed his nearly finished cigarette off to the side, kicking himself off the wall with his expression twisting into a frustrated frown. He took a couple of steps towards her, thick eyebrows drawn together and lips curled aggravatedly as he practically growled out, “I fucking love you more. If you were that afraid I would’ve at least considered stopping if you talked to me about it. But you didn’t give me a chance, Sylvia, you just left.” He was so close at this point, right in front of her as he stared down into her widened, taken aback eyes as his words registered in her mind. Calum saw the way she processed everything he said, saw the turbulent emotions swirl in the blue of her eyes, and some of the fire in his chest lessened as he let out a breath. When he inhaled, he smelled her fruity scent, and it relaxed his tense shoulders. She was so close, the heat of her body seeping into his, and Calum’s tone turned breathless, near defeated, as he finished, “I’d rather lose the ring than lose you. I’ve fought so many fucking fights and I hate myself for not fighting for you.”

That did it.

Sylvia didn’t think. She didn’t consider the pros and cons or the consequences for her impulsive behavior. Didn’t even consider that this was exactly what she was protecting herself from doing by not drinking throughout the night. But Calum had said the right thing, had made her heart swell and throat tighten and even well up some unexpected tears in her eyes because when he said something that he truly meant, Sylvia could hear it clearly. Could hear it in the thickening tone of his voice and could see it in the desperation of his dark eyes, and she couldn’t keep it together any longer.

She closed the distance, the heels of her shoes providing her some additional height as her hands gripped the lapels of his leather jacket and knowing exactly what she was about to do, because of course he knew her so damn well, Calum ducked his head to meet her halfway until their lips pressed together. And just as their lips touched, it felt like an explosion erupted within Sylvia’s chest, feeling the familiar softness of Calum’s lips as if she’d never been deprived of them for the past year, the taste of cigarettes not one she minded in this moment because, fuck, it felt so wonderful.

It was like everything they’d felt was finally coming to light, pouring every bit of emotion they could into the kiss as Calum sucked on her lower lip, Sylvia’s grip on his jacket tightening as she felt his hands grip her waist, feeling his warm skin and cool rings on her bare skin and pushing herself into him more. All Sylvia could hear was her heart pounding in her ears, could feel the electricity buzzing through her veins as Calum walked backwards so he could press his back against the wall, pulling her as close to him as possible, and she loved the way her body fit against his.

His tongue slid against hers familiarly, and Sylvia’s right hand raised from his jacket and cupped his cheek, feeling the softness of his skin and the sharp line of his jaw against the palm of her hand before it went to the back of his head. It was strange, not feeling the softness of his brown curls, but the shorter blonde felt new and familiar at the same time, and Sylvia unwittingly felt herself smiling against Calum’s lips as she kissed him. She wasn’t anywhere near mad at herself because of her paranoid self’s worries coming true. Not when he felt like this.

Not when he felt like coming home.

                                                          *****

“What happened?”

She had been feeling good. She’d been feeling better than she had in a while. After that kiss with Calum, Sylvia didn’t think there was much that could bring her down. The two of them had returned to the bar after that impromptu kiss—and after sharing a few more—and it wasn’t missed by anyone that the two of them were sitting closely together on the couch for the rest of the night. It didn’t go unnoticed that Calum would whisper something in Sylvia’s ear and she’d laugh, leaning into him as he kept an arm around her shoulders. A couple of kisses and it was like nothing had changed.

But they had, of course, and both Sylvia and Calum had decided to actually sit down and have a proper conversation about what was happening. They’d made it clear, that night, that they both wanted more. That they’d talk and figure things out and take it slowly, because Calum was still very much a prominent fighter and it was still something Sylvia worried about. However this time, she was willing to give it a try, especially given that he’s improved so much since last time. This time, she truly wanted this to work, because she’d had a taste of life without Calum, and it fucking sucked.

Unfortunately, it’s all she could think about now, with her heart racing wildly in her chest while she sat completely still, struggling to keep up with her breathing but making no show of it, refusing to let the tears gathered in her eyes to shed. Her voice was hoarse when she asked the two word question, throat dry as her gaze remained fixated on Calum. Remained fixated on a bruised, bloodied, bandaged Calum laying on the hospital bed.

Her hand remained on the top of his, careful not to touch or press on the bruised knuckles, his warm skin one of the only things reminding Sylvia that he was alive. That, and the consistent beeping of the heart monitor he was hooked up to.

“Danny Preston.” Ashton’s voice was quiet from where he sat on the chair on the other side of the bed, his own hazel eyed gaze on the beaten up face of his best friend. But Ashton’s jaw clenched, having to look away. Who could blame him? The sight of Calum’s busted lips, bruised and swollen jaw, black eyes, bleeding temple and nasal cannula helping with his oxygen flow was too much for anyone to look at. If Sylvia stared for too long, she’d feel her heart collapse and let the tears fall. “Him and a couple of his buddies jumped Cal outside of the cave. Preston knew he would’ve gotten his ass kicked so he made it five against fucking one and put Cal at a disadvantage. Fuck!”

He ended his explanation with a frustrated growl of a shout, slapping his thighs before pushing himself up from the chair, the force of the action pushing the plastic seat back. Sylvia, however, remained in her chair, and even with her lips pressed together she could feel the lower one trembling, eyes hot as her gaze reluctantly slid up to Calum’s face. The sight of him looking so injured, far more than she’s ever seen him before, had a whimper of a sob threatening to escape, free hand coming up as she folded her fingers into her palm and pressed them against her mouth, expression finally scrunching up painfully as she looked at Calum.

Unconscious and so hurt, an additional broken ribs and dislocated shoulder also some of his injuries. Looking at him like this, vulnerable and hurt and worse off than she’d ever seen him, was so much more painful than anything before. Her heart was beating so fast that she couldn’t even feel it anymore, the fear bitter in her mouth, his skin warm against hers, and her ears only picking up the sound of the heart monitor. It’s all she could focus on—an anchor to remind her that he was still alive, even if he didn’t look it.

“The police caught them.” It was Michael who spoke up next, his own tone tired but with hints of controlled anger, glancing at Ashton who was pressing his hands against the wall opposite of Sylvia, head bent between his arms. “We’re gonna make sure to press charges against all those fuckers, alright? This wasn’t some match in the ring, it was fucking assault and they’re gonna pay for it.”

Sylvia felt the wetness on her cheek, a tear she didn’t fight to keep in escaping, numbly listening to Michael’s words as she kept her gaze on her hand on top of his. Her eyes slid to the ALIVE tattoo on his wrist, and Sylvia felt her throat tighten even more, breathing heavy as the urge to cry overwhelmed her. She hated this. She hated this with every fiber of her being. Absolutely fucking loathed that Calum was in this position, was so injured that they had to wait for him to wake up. Her blood burned like poison under her skin, and Sylvia just wanted to cry. Everything she had been afraid of happened and just like she theorized, she had no idea how to handle herself in this situation. The dread had never been preparation enough. 

A hand gripped her shoulder, firm yet comforting, as Luke’s voice spoke up from behind her, “He’ll be okay. He’s a fighter.”

She desperately believed Luke, because what else was she supposed to do? Her and Calum. . . They were finally getting a second chance. They were going to try because both of them knew what they had was worth fighting for. It wouldn’t be right, it wouldn’t be fair, that they finally found their way back to each other and the universe decided to be cruel and rip that chance away from them. That wasn’t how it was supposed to go. They still had things to figure out. But they loved each other, and it was going to work.

“You said you hated yourself for not fighting for me.” Sylvia’s words were a whisper in the quiet of the room. She was the only one in there, the boys and Luann giving her a few minutes alone with Calum. They’d been there for a few hours now, Calum having yet to wake up, and both Sylvia’s mom and Nana had visited as well. She’d accepted their hugs and words of prayers and reassurement, but all Sylvia wanted right now was to be able to look at Calum’s brown eyes again.

She sat close to the bed, arms resting on the mattress as her hands gently held his hand. She could taste the salt of her tears on her lips, unable to keep them in after the first few escaped, the fear too heavy to control. “But I need you to fight for yourself right now, okay?” Sylvia’s words were trembling and watery, choked out through her tears. She didn’t even know if Calum could hear her, but she needed to say it. She needed the universe to hear it. “Fight harder than you ever have in your life, because I know you can win, Cal. So please, ju-just fight.”

Her pleads kept falling from her lips, ducking her head until her forehead rested on the mattress next to his arm, one hand still holding his while her other rested against his bicep. Sylvia couldn’t hold in her cries if she tried, every single fear she’s ever experienced while watching Calum in the ring personifying in the sight before her, chest and stomach tight with the frozen terror of something terrible happening to Calum. Only now something terrible did happen to him, and Sylvia was losing her fucking mind over it. He needed to wake up. He needed to show her his brown eyes and flash her that boyish grin that always left her breathless. Sylvia needed all of that more than she needed the air to breathe, and the thought of not getting any of it made the nausea stir in the pit of her stomach.

“Don’t cry over me, love. ’M not worth it.”

The sound of Calum’s voice had Sylvia choking on her cries, head snapping up immediately and wide, tearful eyes landing on his face and, oh, his beautiful brown eyes. He met her gaze, tired and beaten, but still managed to lift the corner of his lips in a half smile as Sylvia felt him turn his hand so his palm was pressing against hers.

It took her a moment to realize what just happened, to register the fact that Calum was awake and responsive and smiling for her even though he was in pain, and she almost burst into a new set of tears in that moment. The relief that flooded her was breathtaking, momentarily struggling with pulling him into a hug or running out of the room to tell their friends that Calum was awake.

But he squeezed her hand, the action not as strong as it usually was, but the touch igniting the same butterflies in the pit of Sylvia’s stomach as it always did. She tried to calm her racing heart, feeling more tears fall from her lids as she let out a slow, breathless laugh while leaning towards him. She stood up, free hand coming to rest gently on the top of Calum’s head, looking down at him as his eyes never left her blue ones. She loved him. So fucking much, it was paralyzing. Him being in the hospital hadn’t been what had her acknowledging that, rather than him coming back to her—twice—only reaffirming the fact.

Her response showed just how much she loved him, hoped that he would see it too as she laughed through her tears. “You’re worth it all.”

                                                                  *****

The atmosphere was different than that of the underground, but the energy was the same. The crowd was loud, buzzing with excitement over the match about to take place, the arena echoing with chatter of the hundreds of patrons filling up the seats. It all looked so real, so professional, that it took Sylvia a minute to realize that this was actually happening. They were far away from the the dim lights of the underground cave, now within the walls of an air conditioned arena with concession stands, speakers, bright lighting, and tickets to be purchased to witness any fight about to take place within the ring in the center.

They were a long way, indeed.

“Syl, hey.” Luke’s breathless voice caught her attention, prompting her to turn around from where she stood by her seat, just taking it all in, as the lanyard swung against her chest with her movement. The blonde smiled down at her quickly before nodding his head towards the doors. “He wants to talk to you before he goes on.” His smile widened just a bit, blue eyes bright with excitement, though his dimpled grin showed fondness. “I think he’s a little nervous.”

His words made Sylvia let out a small chuckle before she nodded, allowing Luke to lead her out of the main arena and down the entry hallway where all the boxers emerged from. The sounds of the crowd grew increasingly muffled the further in they walked, turning the corner where people were bustling about, going in and out of rooms, until Luke stopped in front of a door and pushed it open.

Sylvia followed him in, hearing the sound of Nickelback playing throughout the room, eyes immediately landing on the tattooed man pacing in the middle of the room. Calum instinctively looked at Sylvia, like he felt her presence, and she saw the way his tense shoulders relaxed when she walked in.

Everyone else took it as their cue to walk out, Ashton and Michael shooting her smiles and Adam, Calum’s all-in-one manager slash trainer, doing the same as he walked past her and said, “You’ve got five minutes.”

He shut the door behind him, and then it was just Sylvia and Calum, standing with a bit too much distance between them. Her smile widened, raising her eyebrows as she walked further into the room and mused, “Heard you were nervous.”

Calum huffed out a laugh, running his fingers through his blonde hair which had grown out a bit, no longer kept short at a buzz cut. “Can you blame me?” he responded, throwing his arms out to the side, gesturing to the room they were in, an odd yet working mix between a dressing room and a locker room. “I feel like I’m way in over my head.”

“You’re not,” Sylvia instantly argued, approaching him with a firm yet reassuring expression, eyes on his. Truthfully, she was trying not to ogle at him in just his athletic shorts and sneakers, the sight of his bare tattooed chest and arms too damn inviting. Standing in front of him, Sylvia tilted her head to keep the eye contact, hands coming to grip his. “You were recruited, remember? Adam saw something in you when you were just an underground fighter, and now this is your chance to show how amazing you are. You get to prove that you were made for this, Calum, and you’re gonna kill it.”

His gaze dropped to their joined hands, and something in Sylvia’s heart tugged. He’d been nervous about this first match for weeks, and no matter the reassurances from her or the boys or anyone else, Sylvia knew it was just human of Calum to feel jittery. It was kind of adorable, but he didn’t need to hear that now. “What if I lose?”

“Then you fight harder in the next one,” Sylvia told him, ducking her head a bit so she could meet his gaze. She smiled when blue eyes met brown, fighting the urge to press a kiss to his full lips. “I know you feel like you’re out of your element here, but that’ll pass. You’re gonna go out there and you’re gonna blow everyone away with your skills and show that you belong.”

Calum lifted his head a little, looking down at her with a warmth in his eyes reserved only for her. That same look that always made Sylvia feel as though she was so loved. “You really believe that?”

“I do, because I believe in you,” she answered simply, truthfully, with an honest smile that took Calum’s breath away.

Her words were enough to quell all of Calum’s anxieties, smile widening at the blonde in front of him as he ducked his head and pressed his lips to hers, hugging her to him as he poured out his thanks into a dizzying kiss she wholeheartedly returned. “You’re my good luck charm, baby. I love you.”

Sylvia’s heart lurched happily in her chest, butterflies tickling her stomach. She was sure she’d never get tired of hearing that. “I love you, too.”

Minutes later, as she stood towards the front of their seating section next to Luann and the boys, Sylvia reveled in the way she didn’t feel the usual fear clawing at her chest as she used to in the underground. Because this was different. This wasn’t blood thirsty men betting on who got the shit kicked out of them in an unstable, ruleless environment. This was a professional boxing ring, televised, with rules and a referee and everything else that made it starkly different than from what any of them were used to. This, she could support.

Of course she was still worried, watching with proud eyes as Calum’s name was announced by the commentator and he emerged from his entrance with gloves covering his hands for the first time and a boxer’s robe draped around his frame. She clapped along with everyone else, almost everyone excited to see a newcomer make a name for himself in his first fight. And she grinned, cheering, when the worry Calum had shown her was nowhere to be found, replaced with the confidence of a fighter and the glare of a man determined to be the last one standing. Her heart swelled as he stepped into the ring, the robe gracefully being taken off his brown skin as he took in the hundreds of people he was surrounded by, not to mention the professional cameras broadcasting it all. If the presence of all of those affected him in any way, Calum didn’t let it show, chin held high and shoulders squared with the heat of the bright lights making him glow. He looked like a god up there, and Sylvia was ready to watch everyone worship him.

Then, for a brief moment, Calum’s eyes met hers and as they did, she saw the break in his arrogance. She saw the subtle quirk of his lips, a microexpression missed by everyone but her, and Sylvia responded with a wide, deliriously happy grin because she was so proud of him so excited for him. Despite his fears, Sylvia couldn’t help but think he belonged up there, a prideful tightness in her chest as she linked her hands together and rested her chin on top of them as she watched him.

Calum caught the movement of Sylvia’s lips as she mouthed a silent, I love you.

He’d return the sentiment later that night, loudly and proudly, after winning the first of many fights.

--

tags: @crownedbyluke @irwinkitten @glitterprincelu @hotmessmichael @meetashthere @mgcvocals @softforcal @astroashtonio @hereforlukescruff @c-sainthood @saintcalum @flannelpunkcalum @novacanecalum @captain-what-is-going-on @angelbbycal @singt0mecalum @hopelessxcynic @lfwallscouldtalk @bodhi-black @findingliam-o @softlrh @calntynes @calumsmermaid @erikamarie41 @quintodosuniversos @longlastingdaydream @babylon-corgis @lukehemmingsunflower @spideyseavey @imfuckin10plybud @livibii123 @pastelpapermoons @malumharmonies @conquerwhatliesahead92 @rotten-kandy @metangi @neigcthood @ohhmuke @old-zeppelin-shirt @5sos-and-hessa @trustmeimawhalebiologist @vxlentinecal @pettybassists @vaporshawn @lu-my-golden-boi @heartbreak-5sos @thew0rdneedsmcreyghurt @visualm3nte @isabella-mae13 @dontjinx-it @lifeakaharry @neonweeknds @antisocialbandmate @ixcantxdecidexwhosxmyxfave @calpalbby @grreatgooglymoogly @sunnysideblog @cocktail-calum @miahelizaaabeth @madelynerin @dramallamawithsparkles @hzi0 @aulxna @mermaiden004 @theagenderwhocriedwolf @kaytiebug14 @hoodskillerqueen @bitchinbabylon @empathycth @calsophat @inlovehoodx @calpops @xhaileyreneex @sublimehood @bloodlinecal 

[naturewalkin]

😍 When its time to drive on hills🌲🌲—————————————————————————— -👉🏻Follow #nature_walkin 🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲 🌲🌲❤️Beautiful #himachalpradesh ❤️ ————————————————————— . . . . . . . . . . .. ——————- #shimla #shimla😍 #shimladiaries #shimlalife #shimlahills #shimla_diaries #shimlatrip #himachal #himachalpradesh #himachaltourism #beautifulhimachal #instahimachal #onehimachal #inhimalayas #himalayas #streetofhimalayas #mallroadshimla #mallroad #jannatofhimachal #jannatehimachal #himachalpradeshtourism #himachaldiaries #himachalisluv #racacious (at Shimla) https://www.instagram.com/p/B3aUI8pg_bJ/?igshid=1u679j2f0xw92

[cakesunflower]

Serendipity [C.H. One Shot]

Summary: Peyton and Calum weren’t the closest of friends—or even friends in the first place—which makes the fact that their parents are best friends all the more irritating. And their constant desire of wanting their children to date unbearable. When their families take a trip together to Paris, Calum comes up with the ingenious plan of acting out a fake relationship to get their parents off their backs. Falling for one another was inevitable, wasn’t it?

A/N: this is a grand total of 17,629 words of god knows what. took me a hot minute but it’s finally done!!! happy reading!!!!!!!

Serendipity—Finding something good while looking for something else.

“Say hi to Calum for me!”

Peyton rolled her eyes at her mother’s words, not bothering to turn around as she lifted her hand in a half hearted wave before stepping out of the house. She ignored her twenty-one year old sister Edie’s snickering, or the giggles of Edie’s girlfriend Diana as the three of them left the house and walked up to the Uber waiting for them.

As they settled in, Diana leaned forward to look at Peyton from the other side of Edie, the amused expression present on her face as she asked, “Do you think your mom will ever accept the fact that you and Calum, like, hate each other?”

A scoff escaped Peyton, eyes on her phone as she scrolled through Instagram after texting Luke that they were on their way. “At this point I’m pretty sure she likes to remain purposefully oblivious.”

Edie snorted. “Ignorance is bliss.”

Peyton gave an amused shake of her head, locking her phone before leaning back and staring out the window. It was almost ten o’clock, the sun long since having set and lights from street lamps and buildings brightening their surroundings as the Uber took them to the bar. It was their friend Luke’s birthday and instead of having a big celebration, he wanted to just get together at his favorite bar, which Peyton was up for. She’s known him for about seven years, met when they were sixteen in high school, and still remain close after graduation and going to different universities. They had many mutual friends, but there was that one guy that Peyton felt like she could’ve gone her entire life without knowing.

Maybe it was just her being petty for all these years, but a bad first impression was enough for Peyton to groan at the mere mention of Calum Hood’s name. The first time they had met was at her high school graduation party that her parents threw, inviting her family and entire graduating class. Prior to graduation, they’d met Calum’s parents through a mutual friend and had immediately hit it off, inviting them and their son who went to a school on the other side of their large town to Peyton’s party as well, where within ten minutes of his arrival, Calum had managed to spill a drink down her dusty pink dress and then instead of apologizing, told her to watch where she was going when he had been the one to bump into her.

It was a cliche scene of a first meeting gone wrong, and it was definitely something that could’ve resolved itself quite easily, had it not been for Calum’s stubborn nature for refusing to apologize and Peyton’s pettiness of not wanting to let it go. His parents had forced him to apologize at the time and when he did, it seemed as though Peyton was the only one who could tell how insincere he sounded, their parents’ fondness for one another making them deaf to the sarcasm in Calum’s tone.

Ever since then, Peyton and Calum had never been on the same page.

To make things worse? Their parents thought they’d make the cutest couple. So for five years, that’s the one consistent kick they’ve been on. The only thing Peyton and Calum could agree on was how stupid and horrible that idea was because, really, what could possibly give them that idea?

Arriving at the bar, the colored lights and loud music were welcoming as the three girls immediately made their way towards the bar, ordering themselves drinks before spotting the group of people they were to meet. Luke and everyone else were settled on the couch towards the back, the table in front of them already home to many beer bottles and glasses.

Luke sat on the end of the L shaped couch, his profile to Peyton, and his obliviousness to her arrival was used to Peyton’s advantage as she quickly walked up behind him before wrapping her arms around his neck and exclaiming, “Happy birthday, Lu!”

The blonde’s hands went up to grasp Peyton’s arms briefly before letting out a laugh, glancing up at her as she moved to stand to his side, an arm still draped around his shoulder. “Thanks, P,” he returned, his arm going around her waist for a side hug. He then looked at Eide and Diana, greeting and thanking them as they chorused their wishes too.

Room was made and chairs were pulled up, with Edie and Diana settling on the couch and Peyton sitting on a chair opposite of the couch as she made conversation with Ashton. For the first few minutes, Peyton enjoyed herself with a drink in her hand and friends around her, until the empty chair to her right suddenly became occupied and not all the margaritas in the world were enough to let her deal with the likes of Calum Hood.

Peyton’s shoulders tensed as he sat down, leaning away from him as he settled with his back against the chair and legs spread, a glass already in hand. She could see him glance at her through her peripheral as Calum hummed over the music, “Ready to spend a week in Paris with me?”

Her jaw set at the reminder, grip on her glass tightening. Her parents’ thirtieth wedding anniversary was coming up and had planned a trip to Paris to renew their vows. Only, they weren’t going by themselves—it would be Peyton, her grandparents, Edie, Diana, Calum, his sister and his parents as well. Her parents wanted those they were closest to there, which was all of them, since neither of Peyton’s parents had siblings. Of course, Peyton had been beyond thrilled over the idea of going to Paris—which soon became deflated when she realized she’d be in the company of Calum fucking Hood.

Huffing, Peyton didn’t even look towards Calum, right leg crossed over her left knee as she responded, “Totally. Can’t wait to go on top of the Eiffel Tower.”

She heard Calum snort, tone completely unimpressed as he retorted, “Why, so you can push me off it?” When Peyton pursed her lips, Calum added with a mockingly disappointed sigh, “Always so immature with your words. Are you sure you’re a literature major?”

Her jaw began to ache from how tightly she was clenching it, finally turning to throw a glare at Calum. But he was utterly relaxed, as usual, sipping his drink with his gaze straight ahead as the purple and blue colors of the club splashed against his skin. Instead of admiring the sharpness of his strong jaw and the sweep of his lashes like Peyton’s betraying mind wanted her to, she merely shook her head, deeming it useless, before looking away and sipping her own drink.

She was positive she’d be able to bite his head off more than enough during their week long visit of France.

Peyton ignored Calum from then on, which was perfectly fine as he was doing the same, keeping himself entertained by chatting with his friends while Peyton chatted with the others. It was the mention of her name that dragged Peyton back to the right side of the table, hearing Edie bring her up with a teasing tone. “Oh, Cal—Mom says hi.” And then she added, “Well, she told Peyton to tell you she says hi, but that wasn’t going to happen.”

Peyton glanced over, unfazed. “I’m not a messenger.” She scoffed, bringing the straw to her mouth as she added flatly, “Mom’s always saying hi to Calum.”

Calum smirked, easily picking up on Peyton’s annoyance she thought she’d hid. He wasn’t going to tell her that his mother would’ve told him to give her regards to Peyton had he seen her before leaving for the bar. “Don’t be jealous that I’m the favorite kid.”

Edie snorted, not at all insulted as Peyton shot him an unimpressed glare. “Oh, yeah, I’m burning with jealousy,” she retorted, sarcasm heavy in her voice before finishing her margarita.

Sighing, Edie mused, “You two are gonna be so fun to be around in Paris.”

Ashton snickered at their expense. “How much you wanna bet your parents picked the City of Love in hopes of you two getting together?”

He was only joking, but both Peyton and Calum paled, expressions dropping as their friends sprung into racacious laughter, well aware of their parents trying to get their kids together for years. Peyton shuddered, because even though it may be a joke, the fact that she wouldn’t put it past her parents to do something like that made her throat dry. “I need another drink.”

She left behind everyone’s laughter as she made her way to the bar, letting out a breath. Honestly, Peyton was well aware her parents, maybe even Calum’s, would be relentless about the two of them—they have been for years—especially in a place like Paris. It was ridiculous, how much her and Calum’s parents yearned for their kids to get together, almost weird in a sense. They were well aware that the two weren’t friendly with one another, but every time they got in a spat, they would be told they argued like a married couple.

Like. . . What?

Folding her arms on top of the bar, Peyton leaned against it as the bartender made her drink, lost in her thoughts. Honestly, she was thrilled to be going to Paris—who wouldn’t be?—even if it meant having to see Calum every day. Maybe she could sneak off and do her own thing, and the thought was uplifting until the annoying voice in the back of her head reminded her that her parents would want her to spend time with her sister and definitely with Calum.

Peyton sighed, settling on the empty stool and resting her chin on her palms, waiting for her drink as her shoulders sank. One would think dealing with the same shit for years would have Peyton get used to it by now, or just be able to ignore it altogether. And for the most part, she did, since she went to graduate school out of state and didn’t have to deal with her parents’ meddling face-to-face. It just got exhausting, especially when she and Calum managed to get on each other’s nerves within five minutes of being in each other’s presence. Peyton truly wondered if their parents were genuinely oblivious to the lack of friendship between them or just ignored it in hopes of keeping their ridiculous fantasy in mind.

“Hey, sweetheart—can I buy you a drink?”

Eyebrows furrowing, Peyton turned her head to the left to see a man, definitely older than her and tipsy, leaning against the bar facing her with a smile on his face he probably considered charming. Not at all in the mood, Peyton parted her lips to tell the guy she wasn’t interested when another body appeared behind her, warm and domineering without even looking. But the familiar forest-reminiscent scent had Peyton’s back straightening, especially when the person spoke up.

“She’s with me, mate. And not interested.”

Pursing her lips, Peyton watched as the guy’s eyes flickered towards Calum before his expression dropped and he pushed himself from the bar, walking away without another word. Rolling her eyes, Peyton looked ahead in time to see the bartender place her drink in front of her, thanking and paying her before taking the straw between her fingers. Peyton didn’t bother glancing Calum’s way as he replaced the spot the guy had been in, flatly saying, “Could’ve handled that on my own.”

The glass clattered against the wooden bartop as Calum placed his there. “Don’t care,” he returned in a tone that only proved his words. Rolling her eyes, Peyton sipped her margarita as Calum faced her, feeling the tequila run down her throat as she looked at Calum bemusedly. He was leaning against the bar on his left elbow, fingers from his right hand tracing the rim of his glass, gaze on his actions as he said, “I’ve got an idea.”

Peyton scoffed, her unimpressed expression returning to her face, a look she often wore towards Calum. “Tell it to someone who cares,” came her instinctive response. She moved to get up from the seat, sarcasm evident in her tone. “I’m sure it’s riveting.”

She’d barely gotten off her seat when Calum’s voice, irritated and edgy, sounded over the music playing. “Shut up and listen, will you? It won’t kill you.”

It just might. Peyton’s jaw clenched tightly, annoyance sparking through her veins as her eyes narrowed into a glare. One would assume the way Calum was looking at her was uncaring and indifferent, but Peyton had known him long enough to detect the impatience in his dark eyes and the way his jaw was set. She wasn’t at all fond of the way he spoke to her, the scowl on her face saying just so, and Calum rolled his eyes and released a heavy breath through his nose before relaxing himself and gesturing to the stool she’d been occupying.

This time Peyton exhaled sharply, begrudgingly settling back onto her stool as she pressed her lips together. Peyton wasn’t sure why she even listened, not one to extend any type of conversation with Calum, but there was a look in his eyes that made her stay.

“What?” she questioned, eyebrows raising to emphasize the bored tone she spoke with.

Calum remained leaning against the bar, and Peyton watched, sipping her drink, as Calum tilted his head innocently with a smirk that said otherwise when he easily, effortlessly, stated, “Be my girlfriend.”

It didn’t help that her drink was sharp enough as it is, but Calum’s words had Peyton immediately choking on the beverage as she haphazardly placed the glass back on the bar and coughed into the back of her hand. There was a mild sense of panic over the thought of choking, but Peyton felt a hand rub at her back to help her through the sudden coughing fit as she took a deep breath. No one really looked her way, too consumed by having a good time or her coughs drowned out by the music, which she was grateful for.

Be his what? Peyton was positive that she had most definitely misheard Calum; thought maybe she drank too much and she was hearing things or that the loud music misconstrued what he said. But there was a heavy, unsettling feeling in her sinking stomach that she had heard exactly what she thought she did.

Disbelief hung Peyton’s jaw as she straightened on the stool, hands flat on the bartop as she looked up at Calum with a wide eyed look that painted the perfect picture of her incredulity. His hand was rubbing her back to soothe her out of her coughing fit, and she ignored how warm, near electrifying, his touch had been as he pulled his hand away. All Peyton could focus on was the fact that Calum looked completely serious, as opposed to Peyton’s utter shock. The fact that he looked so at ease, as if he hadn’t just said the most ridiculous thing ever.

“Did you drink too much?” Peyton demanded breathlessly, leaning away from Calum as she stared up at the tattooed man. She was definitely struggling wrapping her mind around what Calum said, hoping he had some good explanation for it. “What the fuck, Calum?”

He rolled his eyes, finding Peyton too dramatic although he didn’t entirely blame her for her reaction. It was kind of amusing, honest. “Hear me out, will you?” Calum’s smooth voice said, finishing off the rest of his drink and Peyton pursed her lips as she smoothed down her blouse, averting her gaze from the sight of his working throat, which he cleared once he put the glass down. “Our parents have been up our ass for years ’bout gettin’ together, yeah?” Peyton only scoffed in answer. “If we pretend to be together, just for a little bit to make it through this Paris trip, maybe they’ll leave us alone.”

Peyton gaped at him, lips parting and eyes narrowed dubiously, unsure if he was serious or not. The fact that Calum’s expression was totally void of amusement or teasing had her bristling. “How does that remotely sound like an idea that would work?” she exclaimed questioningly, holding back her confused laughter. “If—if anything, they’d be even further up our asses.”

“Not necessarily,” Calum said, moving to sit on the stool his legs were bumping into, facing Peyton. When she shot him a disbelieving look, Calum let out a breath. “Look—they already try to talk us into goin’ on a date. A few days before we leave for Paris, we’ll pretend that we did, make up some shit story about it and make ‘em believe their years of pushing is finally paying off. We pretend in Paris, make it seem like we’re together, and then once it’s over we come up with some reason to break up and they’d have no choice but to respect that decision. They wanted us to date, we tried, it didn’t work out—the end.”

His words were followed by an old Drake song playing throughout the bar, and Peyton wondered if Calum genuinely believed this plan of his was fool proof or something. Her eyebrows were drawn together over scrutinizing eyes and Peyton felt as though she needed another drink after hearing Calum’s idea. It was so stupid and it would never work. Peyton was sure they would be even more relentless than they’ve been for the past few years, probably would be over the moon that their dreams were coming true or some shit. She just couldn’t see how this would work in the way Calum thought it would.

She let out a scoff, shaking her head at him. “So instead of having them hound us for getting together, you want to give them ammunition to talk about our relationship?” Peyton used her fingers to create air quotes around the last word, shooting him a bemused look. “That’s fucking dumb, Calum. They’d be even more annoying than they are now.”

Also—did Calum not understand what his plan would entail? If the two of them had to pretend to be dating, wouldn’t they have to hold hands or something in front of their parents to sell it? Physical contact between Peyton and Calum was extremely scarce and rare—she highly doubted they’d be able to hold hands without feeling extremely awkward about it. It wouldn’t seem natural. Was Calum forgetting that?

“Maybe,” Calum shrugged nonchalantly in response to Peyton’s words, not at all looking offended as she insulted his plan. “But there’s also a good chance they won’t be as bad. Think about it—” He paused, elbow resting on the bar top while his right hand gripped his knee, his brown eyes locked with Peyton’s own. “—All these years, they’ve only ever talked about how they think we’d be good together. Once they see that we are, sure, they’ll make comments about how happy they are and try to get us to talk about the relationship, but my folks know me. They know I don’t like to talk ’bout ‘em too much, and if I tell them you and I are just seeing how things go and want to keep it to ourselves, they’ll respect that.” Calum sighed at Peyton’s still dubious expression. “’M not sayin’ the comments will completely stop, but they’ll definitely ease up. Once we’re back from the trip, we wait a little bit and then break up.” He grinned, holding his hands out in a ta-da motion. “Their dreams will be shattered and we’ll be left alone.”

Peyton snorted, looking away from him as she shook her head. “You’re terrible,” she easily said. But even she had to admit, in some freaky, roundabout and absurd way, Calum’s plan had some kind of logic in it. They’d be fucking with their parents to get them to lay off, which Peyton still wasn’t entirely convinced would work, but it may be worth a shot. Only—that meant having to pretend to be Calum’s girlfriend, and Peyton wasn’t sure that was something she could pull off for even five minutes, much less a week.

Years of unfriendly hostility and heated glares were to be put on a shelf for the sake of fooling their parents.

It would only last a week or so, and while there was a good chance this ludicrous plan of Calum’s wasn’t even going to work, the thought of potentially being free of her parents’ endless pleading over her nonexistent love life with Calum was too enticing.

Maybe that’s why she said yes. Maybe that’s why she ignored the small, rational voice in her brain telling her this could definitely blow up in their faces.

*****

  When an arm draped over Peyton’s shoulder, she tensed as the familiar earthy scent engulfed her and instinctively, she moved to pull away. But the grip tightened, keeping her in place as Calum’s voice murmured, “Stay put, doll.”

Peyton pursed her lips, keeping her expression neutral as she lifted her chin and kept her eyes on the baggage claim in front of her. “Don’t call me that,” she grumbled under her breath.

Calum smirked, unfazed as he kept her close. “What’s wrong? Eleven hour flight got you cranky?”

She was quite well rested, actually, slept through a majority of it and was wide awake now, which was good since it was early in the afternoon in Paris. Her agitation came from Calum standing so close to her, arm around her and keeping her tucked into his side. It wasn’t the first time he’d touched her, but it wasn’t something Peyton was used to just yet. When they planned their first date, they had no intention of actually going on. Just put on a show of Calum showing up at Peyton’s parents’ house to pick her up, saying hi to her overjoyed parents before taking Peyton’s hand in his and leading her to the car, well aware of her parents’ gazes. When he had first grasped her hand, Peyton was about to pull it away when she remembered it was just pretend.

Their so called date included Calum and Peyton ending up in Ashton’s apartment to hang out with him and the boys. They had some explaining to do to the boys when they showed up together, a sight completely out of the ordinary, and the boys only guffawed at their ridiculous plan. But they were well aware of the two’s parents’ antics, so they didn’t entirely blame Calum and Peyton for their near desperate plan.

That was five days before they left for Paris, and since then Peyton’s parents, her mom in particular, were quite excited that she and Calum were finally trying to look at things from their perspective.

Peyton wasn’t sure if she was annoyed or relieved that Calum’s plan seemed to be working. After she’d faked shyness and told her parents they were just trying to figure things out and wanted to take things slow, they’d understandably backed off. Just like Calum had predicted.

Damn. If only they’d tried this years ago.

Peyton nearly cringed. Did she really just consider that?

She tilted her head to look up at Calum, his height always towering as his arm remained around her shoulders. An exaggeratedly sweet smile upturned her lips as she hummed, “You’re irritating.”

His smirk only widened, other hand lifting until the tip of his finger tapped the tip of Peyton’s nose as he mused back in an annoying voice one would speak to little kids with, “So are you.”

Peyton rolled her eyes, conveniently catching sight of her silver suitcase making its way over. Jutting her chin towards it, she drawled, “Why don’t you be a good boyfriend and get my suitcase, hmm? Wouldn’t want our folks to think you’re anything less than gentleman, would we?”

This time Calum rolled his eyes with a scoff, dropping his arm from around Peyton. He wasn’t one to do what Peyton told him to, but he didn’t bother arguing as he stepped up to the conveyor belt and waited a few seconds for the suitcase to come over. Peyton watched as Calum’s right hand gripped the handle on top, effortlessly lifting up a suitcase Peyton had trouble getting down the stairs as she clenched her teeth at the sight of his back muscles rippling through the soft material of his red tee.

He may be a dick, but even a blind man could agree he was a sight to be seen.

Peyton averted her gaze quickly, putting her attention on her phone as Calum turned and rolled her suitcase over, a tight lipped smile on his face. She scoffed once he was in front of her, her gaze flickering to where her and his parents stood, still waiting for a few suitcases. Meeting Calum’s eyes once more, Peyton said quietly, “If you keep that constipated smile on your face every time we’re together, we’re never gonna sell this. You’re a shit actor.”

Jeez—even she was better than him at this faking thing, and this whole plan had been his brilliant idea! If he couldn’t pretend, then what was the damn point?

There was a spark in his dark eyes which narrowed immediately at Peyton’s words, coming to stand in front of her in all of his towering height. He smirked down at her, wolfish and challenging that almost made Peyton bristle. “Oh, I’m gonna have fun makin’ you regret sayin’ that,” Calum mused, voice a smooth husky tone that Peyton disturbingly realized had goosebumps raising on her skin as well as her eyes widening under drawn together eyebrows.

What the fuck did that mean?

He casually wandered away from her after that, and Peyton took in a deep breath before exhaling slowly. One way or another, she had a feeling she was in for it.

Fortunately, they didn’t have to wait long for the rest of the suitcases and eventually they were all piling into a few different taxis to take them to the hotel. Peyton excitedly entered her room, which was a single suite that she got all to herself, connected to Edie and Diana’s room. Since it was early in the afternoon, the plan was to unwind for an hour or so before freshening up and heading out to lunch with everyone, and Peyton was more than ready to dress in a cute outfit and explore Paris as soon as possible.

Knowing she most likely had to do so with Calum was a thought she was pushing away for now. No need to spoil her mood already.

An hour or so later, Peyton had showered and put on a pretty yellow floral dress, the weather outside permitting such an outfit as she did her makeup and slipped on her shoes, right before getting a text from her mother that they were all meeting in the lobby.

Grabbing her purse, Peyton opened the door of her hotel room, stepping out in time to see the door right across the hall opened and out stepped Calum. The both of them paused at the sight of the other, unaware of how close their rooms were, and Peyton noticed in mild frustration as an amused smirk tilted at Calum’s lips, regarding her coolly as the door behind her shut. Of course her parents booked their rooms right across from each other. She was surprised they hadn’t gotten them connecting rooms.

Peyton would’ve been pissed.

She felt Calum’s eyes trail over her, making her eyebrows twitch into a frown as she gripped the strap of her purse self consciously, eyeing him suspiciously as his dark eyes raked over her. It was unnerving that his stare didn’t feel invasive or creepy, having known him too long for it to be so. But what really got Peyton was the goosebumps she felt rise on her skin under Calum’s look, hyper aware of his knack of taking in every detail and stupidly conscious that he’d point out something that would definitely insult or embarrass her.

“Don’t you look pretty.”

His unexpected words had Peyton staring at him in a mix of dumbfoundment and surprise, maybe even a bit of suspicion because why was he complimenting her? She wasn’t entirely sure if she could pick up on any sincerity in his tone, unsure if he actually meant it or he was just saying it to be an ass, because that’s what her relationship with Calum was like.

So Peyton scoffed, stepping away from the door and beginning to walk down the carpeted hall towards the elevators. “No one is around us—you don’t have to pretend,” she responded with a roll of her eyes.

She heard Calum’s deep chuckle from behind her until he was right next to her a moment later, his legs allowing him to catch up with her in two short strides. “Just practicing,” he hummed as Peyton pressed the button for the elevator. “Apparently I’m a shit actor so I figured practice makes perfect, right?”

Peyton couldn’t roll her eyes harder if she tried, shooting Calum a bemused look as he stood next to her, tall and silently attractive in a fitted pale yellow tee and dark jeans. And it wasn’t until they stepped into the elevator that she finally noticed the color of his shirt, letting out a huff as she grumbled, “You couldn’t have picked a different color?”

Glancing down at himself, Calum scoffed as he picked up on the similar colors of their outfits, before shrugging uncaringly as the elevator moved. “We’re just meant to be, aren’t we?” Calum drawled, the sarcasm dripping heavily from his voice as he pulled out his phone and busied himself with it.

Peyton made a disgusted face at his words, face scrunching up at the abhorrent thought. The elevator then stopped two floors below the one they were on, the doors sliding open to allow a man to step in. Peyton’s gaze involuntarily flickered to the man, sporting a dark beard and appearing quite a few years older than her in age, probably mid-thirties, which is why a prickle of discomfort irritated her skin when she caught the way his dark blue eyes trailed over her figure.

It was startling how uneasy his gaze made her feel as opposed to Calum.

Like he was undressing her with his eyes. Peyton pressed her lips together as the man stepped into the elevator, her dropping when she saw the way his lips curled appreciatively before moving to stand with his back to her, getting just a bit too into her personal space as the doors shut. Swallowing slightly, Peyton shifted on her feet, moving a small step back and to her right, accidentally bumping into Calum.

She heard him click his tongue irritatingly, catching the brief annoyed look he shot her before returning his attention to his phone, but Peyton didn’t care in the moment. To be honest, she’d rather be pressed up against Calum than be anywhere near the creepy man who couldn’t keep his wandering gaze to himself.

When the elevator doors slid open and the guy walked out, Peyton let out a quiet breath, missing the raise of Calum’s eyebrows as they stepped out and walked towards where their families were. The lobby wasn’t too busy, and Peyton’s mom caught sight of her right away, a grin taking over her face as she and Calum approached the group.

“Aw, look at you two and your matching outfits,” she cooed, like one would to a baby, as Calum’s mom also joined in on the fond smiles.

Peyton bit her tongue, knowing this was coming as she forced a smile to her lips, ignoring the amused look her sister was sending her. Edie found this whole pretend dating thing way too funny, and Peyton would do, had it not been her as a part of it. “You know what they say, Mrs. D.” Peyton nearly toppled over the sudden weight of Calum’s arm around her shoulders, still not used to it as he tugged her into his side and now all she could smell was his cologne, forcing herself to relax in his hold. “Couple that matches together, stays together.”

Oh, my God. Peyton wanted to face-palm at Calum’s ridiculous words, sharing an exasperatedly unimpressed look with Mali—who was also quite aware of their plan. Practically everyone was, save for the people they were trying to fool.

Apparently Calum’s answer was enough for their parents, complimenting them before beginning to walk out of the hotel to head to whatever restaurant they’d decided on. Walking at the back of the group, Peyton let out an incredulous breath as she tilted her head to look up at Calum. “Are you serious?” she asked, voice quiet enough for their parents not to hear as she gazed up at him. She had a nice view of his stubbly and sharp jaw, but Peyton wasn’t going to focus on that as Calum raised an eyebrow at her. “It’s not even funny how corny that was—it was just sad.”

“Quit complainin’,” Calum rolled his eyes, his arm still a weight on her shoulders as they walked down the sidewalk. Their hotel was in a busy, touristy part of Paris, most of the main attractions within walking distance, including restaurants, which is why they all decided to go on foot. Peyton preferred it, allowing her to enjoy the Parisian scenery. Calum jutted his chin towards their folks, his right hand reaching for the sunglasses hanging on the neckline of his tee before placing them over his eyes. “Satisfied them, didn’t it?”

Peyton pursed her lips and inhaled deeply through her nose, gaze flickering to the sky with a shake of her head as they continued walking. They were at the back of the group—she didn’t understand why he still needed to have his arm around her shoulders. But arguing with Calum, while it could be fun at times, often proved to be exhausting and achieved nothing more often than not. It’s not like his touch disgusted her or anything—she just wasn’t used to it. Five years of knowing him and touches between them were nonexistent. So the feel of his warm arm around her bare shoulders, thanks to the spaghetti straps of her dress, was something to get used to.

She vehemently ignored the small, surprising voice in the back of her mind whispering how she liked it. Maybe she was delusional.

Instead of thinking about the situation she was in, Peyton let herself enjoy the sights they were walking by. She found herself mesmerized by some of the buildings, walking along the cobblestone pathway as the sun peeked out every now and then, passing by many cute cafes and boutiques. There was also lots of greenery in front of the stores, potted plants bright and colorful with some flowers in as well. She’d only been walking on the Paris streets for a few moments but Peyton was already in love. The sights they passed were enough to distract Peyton from the man whose side she was tucked into.

Eventually, they found a restaurant that had a fixed menu of salad, steak and fries, and since no one was a vegetarian or anything, they headed inside. It wasn’t until Calum settled on the chair to her right did Peyton realize the extent of their fake dating. For as long as they were here, she would have to sit with Calum, hold hands with him, make it seem like they were an actual couple. She’d understood that, to a degree, when they’d gone on their fake date at Ashton’s house, where they actually did take some time to discuss any details of their plan—which there weren’t that many of. They just agreed what they’d tell their parents about the so-called date like where they went and what they did, sell them on the fact that they actually had a good time and were genuinely interested in pursuing a relationship.

For years, the only time Peyton and Calum saw each other was when they were both home from school and their friends were hanging out or if their parents wanted their families to get together. And while they weren’t particularly fond of being around one another, it was somewhat tolerable. Even though Peyton had told Calum he was a shit actor in this whole pretending scheme they had going on, she was now wondering if it was her who’d be unable to keep this up. But really—would either of them be able to keep it going, even if it was just for a week?

Her legs were crossed under the table, right leg over her left knee, but her right foot was bouncing mid-air with nerves as her thoughts ran through her mind. And suddenly, despite being in a restaurant, all Peyton seemed to be able to smell was Calum and the cologne he wore, sitting right next to her and his presence was suddenly dominating her senses. Her heart seemed to be picking up its pace as well, and Peyton wondered what’s suddenly gotten her so on edge. It was just pretend. Surely she was capable of acting like she and Calum were a couple for a week or so, right?

There was a hand on her right thigh, fingers lightly digging into her skin as the soft material of her dress did nothing to allow the warmth from the hand to dig into her body. Peyton’s foot froze, as did her entire body, as she tried to keep her expression neutral while dropping her gaze to her lap, where Calum’s tattooed, ring clad hand was resting on her. Her heart thudded, completely astonished that he was touching her, yet. . . Not disturbed or disgruntled. Just utterly surprised.

Everyone was chattering amongst themselves, and Peyton took a breath as she ignored the heat she felt from Calum’s hand, leaning towards him ever so slightly and turning her head to face him. Automatically, while listening to the conversation his dad was having with Peyton’s grandfather across the table, Calum leaned towards Peyton.

“What are you doing?” she hissed, raising her eyebrows in alarmed question.

Calum turned his own head to face her, their faces inches apart yet neither of them paid that any attention as his dark eyes locked with hers. There was mischievous mirth dancing in his brown irises, looking like he was enjoying this way too much. “What, I can’t touch my girl?” he responded just as quietly, though the innocence in his voice was loud and clear.

Peyton pursed her lips, picking up on the way Calum’s gaze flickered to her mouth for a split second. Her heart jumped. “I’m not your girl.”

Looking back at her, an arrogant smirk curled at Calum’s lips, the kind that Peyton knew weakened all of the girls’ knees, the kind that was drying her throat without her consent. He leaned closer, his nose barely brushing hers, and Peyton suddenly felt as though her head was spinning because he was so close, face flushing warm. “In Paris, you are,” he smoothly replied, giving her thigh a small squeeze, smirk widening when he saw the way Peyton’s throat worked to swallow the gasp that nearly escaped and the pinkness in her freckled face. He was having too much fun. He ticked his head to the table. “Drink your wine, sweetheart.”

Peyton gaped at him, watching with slightly parted lips as he returned to listening to the other conversation as if nothing had happened, as if his hand wasn’t on her thigh and burning her skin. As if he wasn’t in the midst of giving Peyton some kind of fucking crisis.

She didn’t like doing what Calum said, but she still reached for her glass of wine. God knows how much of it she’d need to make it through this ridiculous plan.

Not like anyone could see under the fucking table anyway.

*****  

Unsurprisingly, summer nights in Paris were a bit busier than the mornings, which Calum noticed as everyone, save for Peyton’s grandparents, walked to the Eiffel Tower. It was their second night in Paris, and somehow they’d forgone visiting the prominent landmark their first night, spending most of their time merely walking around and shopping, as well as getting sweets to eat at practically every bakery they passed by.

There were loads of people out and about, walking under the clear sky and lamps as street vendors tried to sell small knick knacks they had spread out on the ground. When they got to the tower, Calum noticed the other side had a line for people to go to the top, since it was barely ten at night and going to the top was still open. He wasn’t surprised when the parents decided to do so, rolling his eyes when Mali went with them, leaving just him with Peyton, Edie, and Diana.

He watched, near disinterested, as the girls took pictures of the tower and of each other. Crouching down, Calum nursed his cigarette, taking a drag as his eyes wandered to Peyton. Diana was currently taking pictures of her and Edie, the two sisters posing in front of the tower with grins on their faces and laughs tumbling out of their mouths. Calum watched quietly, blowing out billows of smoke, eyebrows involuntarily drawing together slightly as his eyes took in the sight of her smile.

It wasn’t something he hadn’t noticed before—Calum would be blind to think Peyton wasn’t gorgeous. Voicing it was a complete different matter.

They never complimented one another. But Calum would be utterly lying if he didn’t let those thoughts flutter in his mind every now and then. Being friends had never been in the books for them, but God damn it, was she gorgeous.

And he found himself looking at her, slowly bringing the cigarette back up to his lips, remembering his little move under the table at the restaurant yesterday. It had been an impulsive mood—completely unnecessary in regards to the plan, since no one could see under the table. But her leg had been bouncing and she was practically radiating some kind of nervous energy, and his hand had moved on its own accord. But then he had some teasing fun with her, and the sight of her blushing face and wide doe eyes had made it worth it. He found himself smirking as the lights for the Eiffel Tower behind her started going off and glittering against the sky night sky. Peyton turned around to admire the sight, recording it on her phone before tucking her phone in her purse as Calum finished his cigarette and stubbed it out, flicking it to the trash just a few feet over before getting to his feet.

His movements seemed almost automatic as he took a few steps over, coming to stand next to Peyton as his gaze remained on the landmark in front of them, watching as the bright lights danced on it. The sight was mesmerizing, if he was being honest, watching with his hands in the pockets of his leather jacket and lower lip pulled into his mouth absently.

But then a breeze blew by and suddenly, instead of smelling the nicotine he’d been taking in, all Calum could smell was floral mixed with citrus, and he instantly knew it was from the woman standing next to him. Unable to help himself, Calum glanced at Peyton, head turning towards her ever so slightly, catching the way her dark eyes glimmered and the gloss on her lips shone because of the lights. She was in a state of admiring wonder at the sight in front of them.

Then her body shivered slightly as another breeze blew by, strands of her dark hair flowing against the wind, and Calum’s gaze flickered to her shirt—a V-neck blouse tucked into her jeans. Calum pursed his lips for a moment, realizing that Paris nights seemed cooler than its mornings, before looking away with a slow blink of his eyes and licking his lips as he shrugged off his jacket. Peyton didn’t notice his movements, or did and didn’t acknowledge him, until Calum draped his jacket over her shoulders.

He watched her jerk in startlement—apparently she didn’t notice—head snapping to him as his dark eyes met hers while he secured the jacket on her shoulders. She frowned, though she couldn’t hide the surprise and wariness in her eyes. “What’re you doing?”

A wry smirk tilted on Calum’s lips, refraining to roll his eyes as he shoved his hands into the front pockets of his pants. He had on a full sleeved shirt which kept him warm enough, quirking an eyebrow at Peyton. “Actin’ like a good boyfriend,” Calum quipped back.

Peyton let out a breathless scoff, her hands coming up to grip the collar of Calum’s jacket as she kept it around her. She shook her head before asking, “Why do you do that when they aren’t around? The point is to be pretending in front of them, not when they aren’t here.”

She had a point, Calum knew. But in this case, he’d feel like an ass if he just let her stand there in the cold when he’s got a jacket on and doesn’t even need it. Regardless of the status of their lack of friendship and fake relationship. Besides, it’s not like they didn’t act like a couple in front of their folks; Calum just found it a bit amusing when he did so when they weren’t around and made Peyton bristle.

Raising an eyebrow, Calum inquired, “Does it make you uncomfortable?”

Peyton frowned at that, lips thinning as Calum waited for her answer. “No,” she muttered, and Calum felt surprised at himself for feeling a small sense of relief at that. Peyton shrugged, shifting so she could put her arms through the sleeves. “It’s just weird.”

Calum pulled his lips into his mouth at the sight of her in his jacket, feeling a kind of twist in the pit of his stomach that he was all too familiar with. The leather jacket hung off her frame, the broad shoulders of the apparel that fit him perfectly hanging off her smaller ones. It was a bit shaking, how appealing she looked in his jacket, a view Calum never thought he’d see and never imagined himself admiring. Peyton’s hair was tucked into the collar of the jacket, chin lifted slightly as she returned her gaze to the tower and the shadows of the lights accentuated the curve of her jaw.

She was glowing, Calum couldn’t help but notice. The glittering lights were dying down but there dull lamps around them gave her a soft glow that hid her freckles in her skin. Despite showing some level of agitation towards him, Peyton seemed fixed in a state of serenity, soft eyes taking in her surroundings and viewing them with quiet admirance. Calum’s throat worked as he noticed her long lashes and the subtle pout of her lips; details he never gave himself the opportunity to notice over the years he’d known her.

There was a severe twist in his gut, one that nearly knocked him breathless for reasons he hadn’t seen coming.

Standing in front of the Eiffel Tower with Peyton next to him, draped in his jacket, Calum found himself wanting to start the past five years all over again.

He wanted to laugh. It was only their second fucking day in Paris.

*****

“Smile, you two!”

A soft smile lifted the corners of Peyton’s lips, the smile coming to her a lot easier than she anticipated with Calum’s arm around her waist and hand resting on her hip. The wind had picked up where they were, at the top of the Arc de Triomphe, but it was pleasant against the early afternoon sun. So Peyton smiled, her left arm around Calum’s waist, her head leaning into his side as she ignored the thought that this didn’t feel half bad. It was an uninvited thought.

“Oh,” Joy cooed after snapping the picture, walking towards them and holding her phone out. “Look at how cute you look.”

Both Calum and Peyton looked at the picture, and Calum instantly felt the jump in his heart at the sight of it. The sun was shining against them, their eyes squinting slightly though the smiles on their faces were evident, their skin glowing in their own way against the sunlight. Calum chewed on the inside of his lower lip at the picture, taking note of how Peyton just barely came up to his shoulder, and how comfortable she looked tucked into his side. But that was just for show, wasn’t it? And the soft, fond smile playing on his mouth wasn’t genuine, right?

Suddenly becoming acutely aware of how his hand had gone from her hip to her lower back, Calum quickly pulled it away, as if Peyton had burned him, and subtly took a step to distance himself from her. He missed the way Peyton glanced at him as he turned around to face the city below, running his ring clad fingers through his curls as he let out a breath.

Calum would be lying if he said within the past two days, he began reconsidering the plan. Not because it wasn’t working—it definitely was, they had their parents fooled—but because there was something different. Calum didn’t understand how quickly a change such as that could settle in, how he could barely feel the sting of annoyance and exasperation whenever Peyton appeared into view like he was so used to feeling. He still felt it, no doubt, but it was nowhere near as intense anymore. The fact that a few days of faking a relationship could sprout such a change was fucking unsettling.

He was quiet for the rest of the time they spent up on the Arc de Triomphe, keeping to himself as he admired the view from the height they were at. Calum needed a moment to himself, needed to get his scattered thoughts together as he frowned at the cars driving around below. Since when did he let Peyton Dennis get under his skin in any way? Since when did he allow himself to look at her in any different way than how he’d look at her before?

Once they were done on the Arc, Calum and Peyton and their families walked down to the street before walking along the Champs-Élysées. There were many stores and restaurants on either side, and it seemed like their families wanted to go into every store whether they wanted to buy something or not.

At one point, as they walked, Peyton ended up walking next to her mother, their arms linked together as they went. “Honey,” her mom spoke up quietly, making Peyton hum in response. “Everything okay with Calum? He seems a bit off.”

Peyton looked away from the McDonalds they passed and glanced at her mom in confusion. But she was looking straight ahead at the man in question, and Peyton followed her gaze. Calum walked a little ahead of the group, broad shoulders rigid under the burgundy bomber jacket he wore. Peyton didn’t understand how her mom could notice something being off with Calum, but then she remembered how he’d acted on top of the Arc. One second they were smiling for a picture, and the next he was putting space between them like she was a fire he didn’t want to get burned by, all the while ridding his face of all expression.

Peyton knew Calum to be moody at times, and while normally she wouldn’t care, for some reason she found curiosity picking at her, especially when her mom pointed it out.

Snapping into the role of his girlfriend, Peyton shot her mom a smile and said, “I’ll make sure he’s good.”

Her mom smiled in approval, and Peyton was walking away from her and passed everyone else before stepping up next to Calum. But she made him aware of her presence by impulsively grasping his left hand in her right, feeling him jerk slightly in surprise even though she’s the one who felt the stark contrast of his cold rings against her warm skin. Peyton hadn’t expected herself to do that, her own heart jumping at her actions, but she was aware of their parents behind them and figured to put on a show.

When Calum glanced at her, a questioning frown on his face, Peyton shrugged. “Apparently something seems off with my boyfriend and I gotta make sure you’re good.” She noticed the way his jaw set, looking straight ahead but not pulling his hand from her grasp. Peyton frowned at the unusually hard look in his dark eyes. “What’s up with you?” she questioned, now genuinely wondering if there actually was something bothering him.

“Nothing,” Calum gruffly answered, not in the mood to talk to Peyton about the confused muddle that were his thoughts and feelings—not when he didn’t have a clue about them himself. Not when they had to do with her.

Peyton eyed him, easily picking up on the lie as they continued walking. Her gaze happened to drop to their joined hands. His silver bracelet was peeking from under the sleeve of his jacket, rings prettily decorating his fingers. Peyton chewed on her lower lip as she acknowledged how his skin felt warm, soft and inviting against hers. Let herself acknowledge the electricity shooting up her arm and sparking through her chest to leave her breathless. It almost had her gasping—that’s never happened before.

Peyton quickly looked away, alarmed gaze on the pavement they were walking on as her heart picked up its pace. What the fuck was going on?

“Let’s get ice cream,” Edie’s voice cut through Peyton’s panicked thoughts, her sister gesturing towards a small, quaint ice cream shop.

They all walked to it, and once her dad bought Peyton her chocolate cone, she walked over to where Calum was lingering on the street with his cup of ice cream, the shop too small with no tables or chairs for customers. He merely stood on the sidewalk, absently eating his treat, and as Peyton eyed him she found herself growing uncomfortable at how distant he looked. What was bothering him? Why was this bothering her?

She approached him, licking at her ice cream. “You look way too moody for someone eating ice cream in the middle of Paris.”

Calum let out a scoff, his plastic spoon scooping some more of the ice cream. “Am I supposed to smile every time I take a damn bite?”

Peyton rolled her eyes. “Wouldn’t kill you to act like you’re enjoying yourself.” She gave her ice cream a lick. “You’re in Paris, for fuck’s sake.”

This time Calum rolled his eyes, working on his own treat. “Right—with my girlfriend.”

Peyton shot him a look, glancing over her shoulder to see their families were out of earshot. To Calum, she jeered, “What, this relationship preventing you from hooking up with some French babe?”

A wry smile quirked at his lips. At least it was a change from the blank looks. Calum lazily waved his plastic spoon. “I’m nothing if not faithful.”

Peyton snorted, both amused yet unimpressed. “Is that why you’re so moody? You’re not getting laid?”

His smirk widened, cheekbones prominent as he took another spoonful of ice cream before he shot her a look, something akin to being dangerous dancing in his eyes. “Sure,” Calum shrugged, facing her as his height towered over her. “Wanna help me out?”

Jaw dropping, a choked and startled gasp escaped Peyton as she gaped up at Calum, not entirely used to sexual jokes from him. “Not your actual girlfriend, Calum,” she stammered out. “Pretending doesn’t go that far.”

Calum hated that he had to ignore a pang in his chest at Peyton pointing out that this was fake—hated that there was a pang to ignore in the first place. Fake, fake, fake. It was all pretend.

Why was he having a hard time remembering that?

He schooled his expression, dark eyes meeting hers. “You’re breakin’ my heart,” he smoothly commented.

Peyton rolled her eyes, unfazed by his words until she looked at his ice cream, eyebrows drawing together. “What flavor is that?”

“Pistachio.”

Her face scrunched. “Ew.”

Raising an eyebrow, Calum asked, “Have you ever tried it?” Peyton shook her head no. “Then how’re you gonna judge somethin’ you’ve never given a shot?”

Both of them purposely ignored how his words could definitely pertain to them, too. Eerily so.

Still, Peyton gave him an unconvinced look, and Calum rolled his eyes before scooping some up in his spoon. Then, to Peyton’s surprise, he held it out to her and before she could even question him, Calum nodded at the spoon before smirking, “Say ah.”

Peyton’s incredulous gaze went from the spoon to Calum’s eyes, feeling completely taken aback at the gesture and wondering if this was some kind of joke. Her mind blanked, not entirely sure how to react as Calum watched her, before bringing the spoon towards her mouth and Peyton acted without thinking, parting her lips so he could bring it to her mouth.

His eyes were on hers as Peyton’s lips closed around the plastic spoon, the cold treat melting on her tongue while her stomach turned at the sight of Calum’s gaze on her mouth. Suddenly Peyton couldn’t even focus on the taste of the ice cream, too distracted by Calum’s intense stare that seemed to be burning right through her, freezing her in place. His eyes. . . There was a look in them she’d never seen directed towards her. A look that would’ve robbed her of all her breath if Mali hadn’t interrupted them.

Seriously. What the fuck was going on?

Hours later, around ten at night after dinner, they found themselves at the hotel bar. Their parents were gone on a night out together, Peyton’s grandparents were off doing their own thing, and the rest of them decided to grab some drinks. It was a nice bar with dim lights, TVs playing different channels a long couch against the wall opposite of the bar counter, with tables scattered around. They’d been nursing drinks for a few hours now, and around half past midnight Edie and Diana retreated to their bedroom with hands all over each other and drunken giggles falling past their lips.

As Calum excused himself to grab a smoke, Mali and Peyton approached the bar and ordered themselves more drinks, settling on the stools as the bartender prepared their orders. “I seriously can’t believe you’ve got our parents fooled,” Mali giggled, shaking her head in disbelief as her dark eyes glimmered with amusement. She shifted in the seat to face Peyton, who sat to her right, grinning triumphantly. And a bit tipsily. “Like, they genuinely believe you two are in a relationship! What, do they think five years of them trying to force you together was finally paying off?”

Peyton laughed, her head feeling slightly heavy on her shoulders but the alcohol running through her system making her feel good about it, accepting the glass of Henny and Coke the bartender placed in front of her. “I think that’s exactly what we’re hoping for them to believe,” Peyton responded with a snort, lightly grasping the thin black straw between her fingers. With a smirk and a raise of an eyebrow, Peyton added, “Who knew Calum and I were such good actors?” before taking a sip.

Mali snorted, fingers wrapping around her own glass as she crossed her right leg over her left knee. “You and Calum are shit actors,” she countered, grinning at Peyton’s affronted look. “Our parents are just too happy to notice.”

Pouting, Peyton waved her off, dismissing Mali’s words and pretending that she and Calum were good actors and that’s why the plan was working. They’d been fooling their parents for a few days now and had yet to slip up. Peyton took another sip of her drink; she hoped she hadn’t just jinxed that.

After finishing her drink, Mali checked her phone and stood up. “Mm, my boy’s finally getting off work. Time for a FaceTime date before I crash,” Mali said, running her fingers through her blonde hair. “D’you want me to wait with you until Cal gets back?”

Peyton snorted with a shake of her head. “No, no. Enjoy your virtual date.”

Kissing her cheek, Mali bid her goodnight before leaving the bar, taking a few men’s stares with her as she went. Busying herself on her phone, Peyton took sips of her drink as she scrolled through her social media. She was able to keep to herself for a few minutes until the seat Mali had been in was suddenly occupied, and before even looking Peyton could feel the hairs at the back of her neck standing up. She may be tipsy, head fluttering slightly, but she could pick up on the unease her body felt at the presence of someone else.

And when she looked to her left, Peyton understood why.

Her back straightened slowly, stomach sinking considerably when she recognized the man as the creepy dude from the elevator from the other day, her skin prickling in sensational discomfort. The man sat facing her, elbow resting on the bar as he shot her a smile that he probably thought was charming but made Peyton’s throat dry uneasily.

“Ciao, bella,” he greeted, leaning towards her as he spoke in an Italian accent that wasn’t too thick. “What’s a pretty girl like you doing by yourself?”

Tipsy or not, Peyton wanted to roll her eyes at the ridiculously cheesy and overused cliche. Cheesy pick up lines were a universal thing, of course, but that did not mean Peyton wanted to hear them. Especially not from a man in his thirties who was already eyeing her like a piece of meat. And suddenly, all Peyton could think about was where is Calum?

“I’m not by myself,” Peyton answered, subtly leaning away from him as far as she could without falling off the stool.

She watched as the man sat up, exaggeratingly looking around as if he was searching for someone, and the pricke of annoyance intensified. For the first time, Peyton was grateful for her ability to not get drunk easily or her habit of reasonably controlling her alcohol intake. Being drunk around this guy was definitely not something she wanted to do.

Looking back at Peyton and grinning wolfishly, the guy mused, “I don’t see anyone with you.” His smirk widened. “But I can change that.”

He was getting too close, and suddenly all Peyton wanted to do was get out of here. For some reason, she couldn’t process the thought of getting the bartender’s attention to get this guy to leave her alone, not wanting to be here herself. She wanted to leave.

“Not interested,” Peyton muttered, getting to her feet and thanking God she didn’t stumble or anything. She wasn’t that tipsy, but enough to act before she thought it through. “I’ve got a boyfriend.”

She could feel and see him turn around to keep his gaze on her, calling out, “What he doesn’t know won’t hurt him, bella.”

Peyton held her breath as she walked, her pace quick, frowning when she felt as though she was being watched and when she glanced over her shoulder, feeling her heart jump to her throat when she realized the guy was following her. Mouth dry, Peyton didn’t go towards the elevators, not wanting to risk the chance of getting stuck with him in there. But as she left the bar and entered the lobby, her gaze flickered to the left where the windows facing the street were, her eyes catching sight of a familiar figure leisurely pacing about on the sidewalk right outside of the hotel, nursing a cigarette.

The guy was calling out to her, and Peyton moved impulsively.

She didn’t think.

But her steps were quick as she went outside, hearing the guy’s footsteps behind her, and with her breath held in her chest she approached Calum, who happened to just turn her way as smoke curled from his lips. He paused in his pacing at the sight of her, dark eyebrows drawing together as the cigarette remained between his fingers.

Peyton saw the confused look he was giving her, wondering why she was outside at nearly two in the morning, looking frazzled. But she ignored the look, was acutely aware of the man coming up behind her, felt goosebumps rise on her skin and wasn’t sure if it was because of the cool breeze or because of the situation she found herself in.

But the creepy Italian guy was approaching her, and suddenly Peyton’s feet were moving and she was throwing caution into the very wind that was chilling her skin, ignoring the way Calum’s bewildered gaze remained on her as she neared him. Her hands finding his cheeks, Peyton didn’t even think as she pulled Calum to her level and pressed her lips to his.

There was a mumble of surprise from his end, his hand automatically coming to grip her hip. And, God, at first the sole reason Peyton kissed him was to get away from the guy, to deter him. She hated that she needed to literally throw herself in the arms of some other guy to get a creepy one to leave her alone, but here she was, kissing Calum fucking Hood.

She could’ve definitely found some other way to get rid of the man.

The question was if she wanted to.

But as Peyton kissed Calum, she felt her skin firing up at the first touch, her heart racing a hundred miles a minute as Calum’s lips moved against hers after a brief moment of startled pause. Forget being drunk off of the drinks she’d consumed—the second Calum’s lips sucked on her lower lip, Peyton found herself immediately getting intoxicated by the kiss, her hands going from his face to allow her to wrap her arms around his neck and keep him close, feeling an intense flutter throughout her body that weakened her knees. She could vaguely feel his own arm around her waist, pressing their fronts together, and Peyton had to keep down the pleasured whimper threatening to escape when Calum’s tongue easily slipped into her mouth.

Calum. This was Calum she was making out with in the middle of a goddamn sidewalk in Paris—and she didn’t fucking care. Not when his body felt so lean and inviting pressed against hers, not when she felt as though every cell in her body was coming to life, and certainly not when his plump lips were kissing her as though that’s what they were made for.

He tasted like a mixture of what he had drank and nicotine, not the best of combinations but Peyton had kissed cigarette smokers before, so she didn’t mind. She most certainly didn’t mind that it was Calum—because it was Calum. Years and years of frigid behavior and cold attitude were being utterly disregarded as Calum’s tight arm around her kept her impossibly close, and Peyton found herself not wanting to let him go, either.

Their kiss slowed down moments later, becoming softer, almost sweeter, as Peyton’s arms unwinded from around his neck and her hands slowly came to lightly grasp the lapels of his jacket. Part of Peyton didn’t want the kiss to end, was hesitant on facing the aftermath of her stupidly impulsive actions because this was definitely not part of their fake relationship.

With that thought, Peyton pulled away with a small gasp, the air rushing into her lungs yet her eyes remained closed, trying to get the disarrayed thoughts in her raging mind together to form at least a single coherent line of thinking. She could feel Calum’s warm, slightly heavy breath fanning against her skin as their foreheads pressed together, her skin exceptionally warm from what just happened. Her lips were still fucking tingling from touching Calum’s, and Peyton had a sneaking suspicion that sensation wouldn’t stop any time soon.

She pressed her lips together, letting out a breath through her nose as her eyebrows furrowed together. Oh. Oh, God. She’d fucked up, hadn’t she? Kissing him definitely meant changing things between them, and Peyton wished for once, she thought things through.

It was alarming; she wasn’t as thrown off over the fact that she’d kissed Calum as opposed to the thought of how things would be between them now that it’s happened.

Peyton wondered if the hit of dizziness she felt was because of Calum’s kiss or because of everything happening.

Swallowing, Peyton pulled away from Calum, her hands still gripping his jacket and his arm still around her waist as she took in a shaky breath through her nose. As soon as Calum opened his eyes, Peyton glanced away, unable to meet his gaze as she looked over her shoulder and realized the very man she’d been trying to get rid of was nowhere in sight.

That had her shoulders relaxing a little, but her stomach could be mistaken for a butterfly garden in the moment. “He’s gone,” she muttered in relief, nodding once to herself.

“Who’s gone?” The dazed confusion was evident in Calum’s husky, breathless voice, clearly just as affected by the kiss as Peyton was.

She shook her head, turning her head back to face Calum, yet unable to meet his gaze. The fact that she’d kissed him was still trying to wrap its way around her mind. “There was this guy,” Peyton began, eyes on her blue painted nails against his jacket. “Followed me out of the bar even when I said I had a boyfriend so I—”

“Decided to use your fake one to fool him, too?”

There was a familiarly edgy tone in Calum’s voice that finally did have Peyton look up at him, her eyebrows drawing together as her dark eyes met Calum’s. His, though, were back to the unreadable state they had been all day, which Peyton irritatingly found frustrated her to no end. She couldn’t pinpoint the moment she began caring about what was going on with Calum, but she did, and it spun her head. Especially this change in attitude—an attitude she was used to over the years she’d known him, but still found surprising for some reason.

And uncomfortable, like it didn’t fit Calum. Peyton could already feel a headache coming on.

When Calum’s arm dropped from around her waist, Peyton frowned a she took a step away from him, watching as he brought his forgotten cigarette back up to his mouth. “I just wanted to get a creepy thirty-something year old off my back,” she defended, glaring at his tone, eyes feeling heavy. With a scoff, she added, “Sorry if I made you feel used.”

“That’s what we’re doin’ though, isn’t it?” Calum inquired sharply, dropping the finished cigarette to the pavement and snubbing it out with the heel of his shoe, dark eyes still on Peyton. He shrugged questioningly. “Usin’ each other, yeah?”

Peyton was fucking confused. She had no idea where this sudden hostile tone was coming from, why Calum was looking at her as if she’d just committed some kind of crime. She hated that her lips yearned to be touched by his again. “This was your idea, remember?” she reminded with a raise of her eyebrows. “Kissing wasn’t a part of it and I’m sorry if I crossed some line, okay? I wasn’t thinking.”

There was a heaviness settling in her chest at the thought of making things worse as they could be with Calum. During the years of their mutual unfriendliness towards one another, there had always been a line they wouldn’t cross, an insult or jab they wouldn’t throw because they knew it’d take things too far. The thought of crossing that line by kissing him made Peyton’s stomach twist and her body bristle in unease, guilt, and regret.

She watched as Calum shook his head, running his ring clad fingers through his curls and messing them up. His broad shoulders dropped, and the defeated look he sent her way made her heart stutter. Calum’s voice was low when he muttered, “You shouldn’t have done that.”

Fucking hell—why was she feeling tears burn her eyes? “I’m sorry.”

*****

There was definitely tension in the air. But it wasn’t like the kind that used to exist between them. Before, it used to stem from annoyance and exasperation and grievances with one another. Before, it used to be because they weren’t friends but were forced to see the person they couldn’t stand because of their friends and family. Now, though, the tension was different. Now, it stemmed from a moment shared between them that neither had expected, a moment they had thought about all night and got no sleep because of. A moment neither of them could stop thinking about—painfully yearning for it to happen again.

After that spontaneous, impulsive kiss, the two had retreated to their rooms in an awkward, heavy silence that still burdened their shoulders even once they split off to their separate rooms. Sleep hadn’t come easily to Peyton last night, making herself dizzy with thoughts over what happened, why it happened, how she could let it happen. It was just a kiss, it wasn’t too big of a deal; but this was Calum—they barely had a stable relationship already. Things were bound to teter even more off balance than they already were. And it was her fault.

The next day, she didn’t see much of Calum, which was a bit of a relief. She wasn’t quite prepared to face whatever aftermath there may be from last night’s event, truthfully feeling a bit embarrassed over what happened. He’d said you shouldn’t have done that right after she kissed him. How fucking mortifying was that? Instead, Edie invited Peyton to come with her and Diana to visit the Louvre, so the three girls spent more of their morning into afternoon at the museum. Of course, they had to leave in time for their parents’ vow renewal ceremony later that evening, which was taking place in a beautiful garden lit up with fairy lights and lanterns that provided a soft glow.

And as Peyton stood there, in between her grandmother and Edie as they listened to her parents renew a preexisting love, Peyton felt her gaze involuntarily flickering to the right. As her father spoke of his love for her mother, Peyton’s eyes landed on Calum, standing between his father and sister. Tall, broad shouldered and, for the first time Peyton wouldn’t feel hesitant on admitting out loud, extremely handsome. His attire of a white full sleeved button down with black stripes, black pants and polished boots made him seem ethereal, unfairly beautiful when he was doing nothing but standing there.

Peyton never let herself admire him before. Now. . . He’s all she could think about. And it was fucking with her head. She wondered if this was the universe playing some kind of cruel joke on her, because she didn’t think Calum had looked her way at all except for a brief greeting when they first arrived, catching sight of each other for the first time that day.

But even that had been forced. Peyton felt her insides twist at the rigid hug they’d shared. It felt wrong.

You shouldn’t have done that.

It made her wonder when things with Calum had started to feel right.

*****

They were in Paris. They were in a city full of art and culture and beautiful sights. Yet Calum was in his hotel room, binging on Netflix while everyone was out and about doing whatever. It had been a few hours since the Mr. and Mrs. Dennis’s ceremony, and after everyone enjoyed a nice dinner, they returned to the hotel in case they wanted to change clothes or just went off to do whatever the hell they wanted. Calum, for one, decided to stay inside.

Mostly because he felt as though he needed to get his head on straight.

Things had completely changed in a matter of days and Calum felt as though someone had pulled the rug out from under him. He, for the life of him, couldn’t understand or pinpoint when exactly he began developing feelings for Peyton.

He could admit that to himself now. He had feelings for her. He liked her.

Seriously, though—it baffled him how out of nowhere they came from. One second things between them were as they had been for years, and the next moment the sight of her smile had his heart soaring in his chest. It hit him so fucking hard, knocked him right off his feet and robbed him of all his breath, and Calum was dizzy with confusion as to how that could possibly happen. He wasn’t one to fall for someone so out of the blue, without even a single thought or consideration. But with Peyton. . . It just fucking happened and Calum had no idea what to do.

He wasn’t even paying attention to the show he was watching, laying on his side with his elbow propped up and head resting on his hand, a perpetual frown on his face as he lost himself in thoughts that weren’t making any sense. For fuck’s sake, this was Peyton Dennis; calling them friends over the years would’ve been a hard sell—and now he liked her?

Matters of the heart really made no fucking sense, did they?

Maybe if he’d never suggested the stupid fucking idea of pretending to date, then this never would’ve happened.

As soon as that thought creeped through his mind, a voice at the back of his head roared to life, telling him the idea was probably the best one he could’ve had. That falling for Peyton was the best result he could ask for. But Calum didn’t see any logic in that, especially when he doubted she felt the same way.

That thought had his heart sinking in his chest, his jaw clenching tightly in frustration.

Calum knew, without wanting to admit it too much, that maybe things had been changing for a few days now. But then she went and kissed him, and everything he thought he knew in regards to his relations with Peyton were gone out the window. Because, fuck, he’d never felt anything like it. Her lips had been so soft, so tantalizing that his own burned with the desire of kissing her again. The first touch of her lips on his had his entire body igniting in a fire that would make the sun jealous, head in the clouds and never wanting to bring it down. Holding her that close, kissing her like that—Calum was sure he’d never get enough.  

He was so lost in his thoughts that he barely registered the knocking on his door. Blinking out of his own head, Calum’s eyes flickered to the time on the bedside clock, frowning when he saw it was one-thirty in the morning. Who the hell was knocking at his door?

Not bothering to put on a shirt, Calum got out of bed, only wearing his sweatpants, as he wandered over to the door and leaned into check through the peephole.

His breath hitched in his throat when he saw Peyton standing on the other side. Calum pulled away from the door, frowning confusedly at nothing in particular as he ran his fingers through his hair. What was she doing here? And why did the universe think it was a good idea to send the very girl he was thinking about right to his door?

Licking his lips, Calum took a breath before gripping the door handle, the sound of the door opening catching Peyton’s attention as she looked ahead. Calum watched, allowing himself to feel a bit smug, as her dark eyes took in the sight of him without a shirt, chest and arms and tattoos on full display for her viewing pleasure. He watched as her lips parted to speak up, the words dying on her tongue as her eyes flickered to his tattoos and physique, and while he admired that she seemed to be enamored by the sight of him, he needed for her to stop looking at him like that. Or else there’d definitely be a repeat of last night.

“I—” Peyton spoke up, clearing her throat, and this was the first time Calum was seeing her nervous because of him. Normally she’d ignore him or shoot him looks of annoyance or work her mouth with some snappy comment. But this was different. Calum wasn’t entirely sure how he felt about that. “Were you sleeping? I’m sorry if I woke you up.”

“No, I wasn’t,” Calum told her with a small shake of his head. At the reminder of the time, his eyebrows drew together slightly. “Is everythin’ okay?”

Peyton nodded. “Yeah.” Her throat worked, offering the smallest of smiles. “Can we, uh, talk?”

Calum felt his heart thud particularly harshly at that, unsure if this was a conversation he wanted to have. But he nodded anyway, opening the door wider and stepping to the side. “Come in.”

She entered the room and Calum couldn’t help but admire her as she walked past him, dressed in a jacket over a dark purple dress that had a V-neckline and hugged every curve she had, the sight of her in it making Calum regret not wearing any boxers under his sweats as he shut the door. He took a breath, squeezing his eyes shut briefly as her scent filled his senses, before turning around to face her.

Before Calum could ask her what was up, Peyton faced him and rushed out, “Are you mad at me?”

Calum blinked before a puzzled frown took over his face. “What?”

“Because you’ve been acting weird since last night and I told you I was sorry if I went too far but I can’t help but get the feeling that you’re still angry.”

Had she had too much to drink or something? Calum wasn’t even aware he’d given that kind of impression. “I’m not angry,” Calum told her truthfully. He was confused and in a daze and kind of really fucking into her, but he wasn’t angry. “I could ask you the same thing, doll.”

Peyton appeared taken aback. “Me? Why?”

Calum let out a small scoff of a laugh, feeling both amused and a bit disgruntled at the same time as he told her, “You’re the one that’s been off with your sister and Diana all day, Peyton.” He took a few steps closer to her, not a fan of the bit of distance between them. “Felt like you’ve been avoiding me all day.”

Her gaze averted as he neared her, rolling her lips into her mouth as she looked over to the side. She looked slightly guilty, but also hesitant. “I was just—” Peyton cut herself off, taking a deep breath before admitting with a near defeated shrug, “I was embarrassed.”

Calum’s eyebrows drew together in a frown, her words taking him by surprise as he ducked his head ever so slightly, trying to catch her gaze as his face scrunched a bit in confusion. “Emba—why?” he repeated, watching as Peyton pursed her lips. “What about?”

Her dark eyes met his, looking almost incredulous as her eyebrows drew together upwards and a humorless scoff escaped her. “What about?” Peyton repeated with a shake of her head. “Right after I kissed you, you told me I shouldn’t have done that. That’s just—I mean, that’s embarrassing!” She ran her fingers through her dark hair, pushing it back. “How else am I supposed to feel?”

Calum’s jaw was clenching as she spoke, realizing that his words probably made her freak out and feeling a pang of guilt for being the cause of that. Because the last thing she needed to be was embarrassed over what happened—and as much as it fucking confused the shit out of him, he didn’t regret it. “Not embarrassed,” he told her clearly, confidently, taking the last few steps between them to close the distance until he was standing in front of her. And, just like Peyton had the night before, Calum decided to throw caution in the wind, too. His hands came to cradle her jaw, thumbs brushing across her cheeks as her wide eyes met his. “I only said that because. . .” He let out a breath through a smile. “Because it was a bitter reminder that what I want for real. . . Was only pretend.”

Peyton’s lips parted with a shaky inhale, Calum’s heart thundering in his chest at his confession as her dark eyes stared intensely into his. “What you want. . .” she began, only to trail off with a breathless whisper.

Calum’s lips quirked up into a smile, leaning closer to Peyton as he finished her sentence with a confirming, “Is you.”

There was a moment of comprehension as Calum’s words settled in Peyton’s mind, his heart beating wildly in his chest as his words hung in the air, giving him a moment to process what he’d just admitted to. That he’d just told Peyton Dennis, the girl he more often than not got into bickering arguments with, he wanted her.

Just like the night before, Peyton made the first move of grasping his wrists, feeling the metal of his bracelet against her skin, and leaning her head up just enough to connect their lips in a heated kiss, one Calum returned instantaneously at the first feel of her soft lips against his. The desperation of the kiss had Calum groaning against Peyton’s mouth, her hands starting at his chest before sliding up to his shoulders and then eventually finding home in his hair, her fingers tangling with his curls as Calum wasted no time in licking at the seam of her lips before sliding his tongue in to meet hers.

His hands dropped from her face, his warm touch trailing down her body before placing his hands on the curve of her ass, smirking against her gasping mouth when he gave her a cheeky squeeze. Calum’s head was spinning as he tasted the strawberry chapstick she wore, kissing the taste off as he bent his knees a bit, his lips never leaving Peyton’s as his hands found the back of her thighs and lifted her off the ground easily, her legs wrapping around his hips as Calum nipped at her lips and settled himself on the edge of the bed, Peyton easily straddling his lap.

Their kisses were desperate, fueled by a fire neither of them wanted to put out, but eventually Calum pulled away, smirking at the protesting whine that escaped Peyton, only to transform into a beautiful moan as he kissed his way along her jaw, fingers digging into her hips. Peyton’s head tilted as Calum’s sinful lips worked on her neck, quickly discarding her jacket and dumping it somewhere on the floor as her left hand tangled itself into his hair once more and her right gripped his bicep, nails digging slightly into his skin as he found that spot that had her breath hitching. The sensation of his lips, tongue and teeth working on her skin in addition to his scruff scratching at her had Peyton’s heart threatening to burst out of her chest.

He marked up her neck, collarbones, and the tops of her breasts peeking up from her dress as Peyton made a mess of his hair, raking her fingers through. As Calum’s lips found hers again, his hands went to her back before finding the zipper of her dress and pulling it down hastily, impatient and desperate to get it off.

And, fuck, what a sight she was.

Calum didn’t even remember moving his laptop off the bed or even retrieving a condom, only that once Peyton was completely bare in front of him, for him, he’d tugged her back to the bed until she was lying down and his lips were on her again. Every fucking kiss sent an electrifying spark shooting through his body, warming him to his very core as he felt Peyton’s hands ran down his chest, as if committing him to memory.

“Fuckin’ beautiful, y’know that?” Calum was rasping against her lips, his right hand finding home between her legs as Peyton moaned against him as he slid a single digit in between her slick folds. He groaned. “Beautiful and so wet for me.”

Peyton’s head tilted back as his finger, soon joined by a second, worked her open as the metal of his rings had every coherent thought flying out the window, a whimsical sound escaping her and her own fingers threading through his hair as Calum moved himself down a bit, catching a nipple between his lips. She arched her back at the sensation, pushing herself into him, and Calum fucking adored the sight of her; head back and mouth dropped open in silent gasps as she tried to catch her breath with his fingers inside of her.

He continued like that, watching her lose herself thanks to his fingers while he gave her breasts the attention they deserved, his eyes never leaving her gorgeous face and taking in every pleasured expression that flashed across it. Feeling the familiar clench in her stomach, the coil forming and burning, Peyton clenched around Calum’s fingers while her dazed eyes met his. The sight of him with his kiss swollen lips wrapped around her nipples, peeking up at her through dark curls, had Peyton making sounds that were music to his ears.

“Calum,” she gasped, one hand in his hair, the other on his shoulder, and her breath robbed by his fingers and the rings that shot shivers up her spine. Her nails dug into his shoulder as she felt the cool metal of his necklace teasingly drag across the bare skin of her torso. “Oh, my God—I can’t—”

Releasing her nipple, Calum leaned up and captured Peyton’s lips with his once more, fingers never slowing down their pace as he mumbled against her lips, “Come on, sweetheart.” He pulled away from her mouth as she tilted her head back, his eyes never leaving her as an adoring yet smug smirk took over his lips, the sight of her one he wanted to picture in his head forever. He brushed his nose against her cheek as he encouraged, “Let me see you fall apart around my fingers, yeah? C’mon, baby.”

As if his fingers weren’t enough, Calum’s words were all it took for Peyton to do just as he said, her eyes clenching shut and eyebrows furrowing as her orgasm shook through her a lot more intensely than she thought. The sounds she made had Calum’s lips parting before rolling his lower lip into his mouth and biting down at it, the way she tensed before coming around his fingers a sight to be fucking seen.

Peyton was breathing heavily by the time she was done, a soft whimper escaping her as Calum pulled his fingers out, coated in her release. Smirking and already out of his sweatpants, he kneeled between her legs, grabbing the packet of the condom as he brought his fingers up to Peyton’s mouth, her lips already parted as she tried to catch her breath and he didn’t hesitate in placing his fingers in her mouth.

And she didn’t even pause in closing her lips around his digits as her hand came to grip his wrist, his stomach clenching excitedly as she sucked them clean while he tried to get his wits together and used his other hand and teeth to rip open the condom packet before rolling it onto his hardened cock. He was desperate to be in her, and lining his tip to her entrance, Calum slid into her easily and desperately, breath hitching yet still managing to smirk as Peyton moaned around his fingers, eyes shutting with a frown and her jaw dropping at the sensation of him filling her.

The sight of her, so flushed and covered in darkening hickeys with kiss swollen lips, looking so breathtaking and perfect. . . It was definitely one to behold. One he would never get tired of.

And the image of him above her, with curls brushing across his forehead and plump lips looking deliciously kissable and tattooed arms she wanted to dig her nails into. . . He looked like a god.

He was definitely answering her prayers tonight.

*****

Now that they no longer had to pretend, their remaining days in Paris were that much more enjoyable. The morning after they’d slept together, Peyton and Calum had looked at each other, mesmerized by the sight of the other laying in bed with them, wondering if it was real.

And then, Peyton asked, “No more pretending?”

To which Calum had smirked and pulled her closer and said, “This is the real thing, sweetheart.”

And that was that.

It was baffling—in the best way—how easily things went from there. How natural it felt for them to hold hands when they went out, even so far as share a kiss when they were around their families. Which had completely shocked Mali, Edie and Diana before the two had to explain to them, away from their parents, that they were an actual couple. Their sisters and Diana had been justifiably surprised and almost disbelieving, just as floored as Calum and Peyton that this was real and no longer pretend. But it was good. They were happy.

Besides—they got to have an official first date in Paris. It was kind of fucking amazing; dinner, then some dessert from a cute bakery before walking along the Seine, never once letting go of each other’s hands. It was perfect.

Undoubtedly, both still found themselves giggling over how natural it all felt. How easy it was to just forget about their years and years of cold attitudes towards one another and fall into this new dynamic that felt so wonderful and blissful and full of a kind of happiness neither of them had expected to find in one another. A kind of happiness that now that both of them had gotten a taste of, would never want to let go.

The minds of their friends back home would explode.

Sunday night, they were to go back home, their boarding time around eleven-thirty that night. It was a late flight, no doubt, but nobody seemed to mind too much since it gave them a whole day to spend in Paris for the last time. But around 9:45 that night, rushed knocks sounded on Peyton’s door, startling her from gathering all of her toiletries.

“What’s up?” she laughed in amused confusion as she opened the door to reveal a jittery Calum, bouncing on the heels of his feet as he looked at her with a grin.

“Put on your shoes,” he told her quickly, gesturing to her feet impatiently. “We gotta do something before we leave.”

She was going to question him as to what could be so important, but Calum was shooing her back into her room and Peyton rolled her eyes, walking in to slide on her Converse. Pocketing her phone and wallet, Peyton shot Calum an amused look as he grasped her hand, fingers intertwining with his as he led her towards the elevators. “Are you gonna tell me where we’re going?” she questioned once they were inside. “We have to leave for the airport in, like, half an hour.”

“It won’t take that long,” Calum reassured her, a happy glint in his dark eyes that itched at Peyton’s curiosity.

He took her out of the hotel as they began making their way down the sidewalk, walking in a comfortable silence. At one point Calum took their joined hands and raised them so he could drape his arm around her shoulders, tucking her into his side as she changed hands to hold his right one in her left, hanging over her shoulder, so her right arm could wind around his waist as they went.

Eventually, they were at the Eiffel Tower, and Peyton shot him a questioning look as she pointed out, “We’ve already been here. A bunch of times.”

Calum rolled his eyes, though his smile remained. “I’m well aware, doll,” he said, digging something out of his pocket.

Just as Peyton recognized his phone, the lights of the tower went off, glittering against the night sky as a bunch of tourists ooh and ahh’d at the sight. Peyton watched as Calum stepped away from her, raising her eyebrows as he walked up to a woman standing idly by as he spoke to her. When Peyton saw her nod as he handed her phone to her, she let out a small laugh as she understood what he was doing, grinning fondly at him as he quickly made his way over.

They stood, right in front of the tower, as Calum grasped her hands in his. “C’mere,” he murmured through a grin of his own, and Peyton easily complied as his hands familiarly grasped her face and he pressed his lips to hers.

Peyton couldn’t help but smile into the kiss, her eyes closing and arms winding around his waist, adoring how fucking cheesy and cute this was, her heart pounding that this was something Calum wanted to do. Over the past few days of them actually being together, she’d come to realize just how sweet he was, how thoughtful and considerate he was when it came to others. Always wanting to hold her hand or keep and arm around her, kissing the top of her head or her temple, buying her whatever treat he found her eyeing whenever they passed a bakery, and just generally being the kind of sweet she didn’t expect from him.

It was a wonderfully pleasant realization, and Peyton hated that it took five years for her to see that.

They pulled away moments later, foreheads pressing together and breathy giggles escaping them both as she commented, “That was so freaking sweet.”

Calum pressed his lips to hers once more before pulling away with a cheeky wink. “Not as sweet as you, doll.”

Her cheeks hurt from how widely she was smiling.

A few hours later, Peyton was in the bathroom at the airport, washing her hands as her mom stepped out of the stall and came up next to her. They were about to board soon, everyone else seated in the waiting area for their gate as Peyton put some soap on her hands.

“I’m glad you and Calum finally saw what the rest of us were seeing,” her mom hummed as she turned on the tap, catching Peyton’s attention. Casually, her mother added, “A bit ridiculous that you had to see it after your attempt at trying to fool us but, hey, whatever does the trick.”

Peyton froze, hands unmoving under the running water as her head snapped up, eyes going to her mother through the reflection of the mirror in front of them. Her thoughts had ceased out of complete shock. Through a startled laugh, she asked, “What?”

Her mom chuckled in amusement, washing her hands before shooting her daughter a knowing look. “Come on, honey, you think you could play your own mom? Please,” she scoffed with a roll of her eyes, turning off the tap. “It wasn’t hard to figure out you two were only pretending.”

Peyton couldn’t believe what she was hearing, absently turning off the tap and gaping at her mom with wide eyes and a slackened jaw. She was deaf to the other women in the bathroom, to the water running and toilets flushing and the automatic hand dryers roaring as she followed her mom to one of them. She knew? Peyton was in a state of complete disbelief. “If—If you knew then how co—why didn’t you say anything?” she stammered out, unable to totally get her thoughts together.

“Because I knew what would happen if I stayed quiet,” her mom answered with a laugh, looking quite smug. “I knew you two would eventually see how well you work together and would stop pretending on your own. I just waited for it to happen. I’m happy it didn’t take you too long, though. It was only a matter of time until you realized you were no longer pretending.”

“Oh, my God,” Peyton scoffed out a laugh, her wide eyes and disbelieving smile still on her face as she shook her head at her mom while drying her hands. “So we were just pretending for nothing?”

Her mom clicked her tongue. “Not for nothing,” she reminded with a smile. “You got quite a handsome boyfriend out of it, didn’t you?”

Peyton pressed her smiling lips together, the disbelief still leaving her in a state of bewilderment, yet she couldn’t stop the grin from forming as she thought of her tall, dark haired and tattooed boyfriend. A boyfriend she dizzyingly adored. “Yeah,” she relented with a sigh that could be only described as blissful, her cheeks warming at the thought of Calum. “I did.”

Her smug mother winked. “Told you so.”

Peyton scoffed again, pressing her tongue to the back of her teeth in wonderous awe as her mom left the bathroom, shaking her head to shake the shock off. Although she doubted that would happen any time soon. She couldn’t believe her mother knew this entire time, letting her and Calum believe that they had their parents fooled. Peyton wondered if anyone else knew, too, but then figured that it wasn’t important. Not anymore. Not when she and Calum were actually together with no scheme up their sleeves.

By the time she returned to where their gate was, they were already lining up to board and Peyton smiled when she saw Calum standing amongst their families, her travel backpack hanging off one of his shoulders from the strap. She took it from him once she came to stand next to him, and Calum smiled, “Got Mali to switch seats with you.” His arm found home around her shoulders as he leaned he tucked her closer. “You’re mine for the next eleven hours.”

Oh, man, she was his for as long as he’d have her.

Peyton grinned at that as the line shuffled forward. “Calum.” He looked at her, raising an eyebrow, and the incredulous smile was on her face as she quietly told him, “My mom knew. She knew about the plan this entire time.”

She watched as dumbfoundment flashed across Calum’s face, eyebrows drawing together and eyes widening, mirroring the expression she must’ve had in the bathroom upon hearing the same thing. “What? Are you kidding?” he asked through a confused, deep chuckle.

Peyton rolled her smiling lips into her mouth as she shook her head before letting out a laugh. “No, she just told me in the bathroom. I’m just as shook as you are.”

Calum looked ahead with the incredulous expression still painted on his face, lips parted before he looked back at Peyton. “How come she never said anything?”  

Peyton shrugged, but still smiled as she recalled her mother’s words, her dark eyes meeting Calum’s as her smile turned soft, her tone quiet. “She said it was only a matter of time until we realized we weren’t pretending anymore,” she told him, feeling her heart flutter when a smile graced Calum’s lips as well after a small scoff of his own.

“Guess she was right,” Calum hummed as they took a few more steps forward. He gazed down at Peyton, taking in her pretty face with dark eyes and long lashes and pink lips and adorable freckles. Took in how stunning she was, and how much he found himself just absolutely adoring her, infatuated with her, in a matter of days. How quickly just pretending transformed into something so fucking real and how the girl Calum hadn’t gotten along with easily became the one he couldn’t stop thinking about.

He grinned, boyish and charming as he completely pressed her into his side, head tilted down to keep his gaze locked on her warm one. “I think we can both agree this plan of mine was riveting, huh?”

At that, Peyton let out a laugh, head tilting back as Calum grinned, knowing she picked up on the reference to the night when he first told her about his idea, how she’d rejected it before even listening to it. Peyton shook her head, a happy grin lighting up her face and her eyes, shaking her head up at Calum as she asked, “Are you gonna play that card a lot? Let me know now.”

Calum pressed his forehead to hers, uncaring that they were in a public place, loving any kind of closeness he could get with Peyton. Her left hand came up to grasp his right that was hanging off her shoulder, intertwining their fingers. “Of course I am. It’s the best plan I’ve ever had.”

Mirth danced in her dark eyes, leaning away from him ever so slightly as she teasingly asked, “Oh, so am I just a plan, then?”

Calum’s smile lessened a bit, a serious expression falling over his face yet the fondness for the women he was holding never diminished from his eyes. “No,” he said, tone quiet and just for her, pulling her back into him. Calum lightly brushed his nose against hers, pressing a soft kiss to her inviting lips, smiling when she tried to chase his lips once he pulled away. “You’re my girl. You’re the real fuckin’ thing.”

tags: @crownedbyluke @angelbbycal @irwinkitten @captain-what-is-going-on @astroashtonio @caelumhood @softforcal @hotmessmichael @meetashthere @glitterprincelu @valentinelrh @flannelpunkcalum @old-zeppelin-shirt @roselukes @kinglycalum @heavenlyhemminqs @slimthicccal @wrappedaroundcal @calumhampton @ohhmuke @lipstickstainfading @calumsmermaid @cals-babylons @inlovehoodx @5secondssofssummer @paqueretteash @fucking5sos @sublimehood @hereforlukescruff @ghostofch @cliffordcntrl @hoodcentral @asht0ns-world @soulmatecashton @babygirlcashton @invisiblexcth @calumh-excess @cal-pal-cuddles @lovelettercalum @checkeredcalum @empathycth @calntynes @jetblackyoungblood @gigglyirwin @hearts-to-the-sky @poppedpins @xhaileyreneex @5sos-stan4lyfe @cosmixcalum @lifeakaharry @complete-trash-101 @calistheloml @romanticalumhood @cathartichaoss @sunnysidesblog @cxddlyash @akacalciumhood @calumthoodsyonce @gorgeouslygrace