*on hold* Until Callan moved in next door, Presley was one hundred percent, completely fine with how her life was turning out.
She never regretted dropping out of college or wasting her days working in a diner for minimum wage. Boredom never plagued...
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I'd be the first to admit when I'd been acting like an idiot. Unfortunately, it could sometimes take awhile for me to come to my senses. This time it took almost four whole days of mulling things over.
Callan followed me inside, shutting the front door behind him. I set my keys on the counter, then turned to him. "Make yourself at home. I'm just going to change into something that doesn't smell like stale onion rings."
"Thanks in advance." He chuckled.
In my room, I pulled my uniform over my head and stood in front of my open closet. Normally, I'd throw on an oversized T-shirt and not think twice. But I was in the presence of an attractive man and some effort wouldn't kill me.
As I rifled through my options, I found myself cringing as I recalled the moment when Callan revealed why I owed him the impromptu kiss at the fair. His answer left me absolutely mortified. I could not believe what he accused me of doing... until he mentioned what I'd said. "I wanted to know what I would be like to kiss someone else."
When he repeated those words to me, I was so humiliated, I couldn't look him in the eye. Those particular words had come to my mind many times before, but I'd never said them outloud to anyone. Apparently, drunk me was happy to share my saliva and my most intimate thoughts.
More often than I'd like to admit, I wondered what it would be like to kiss someone again. I mean, really kiss someone. Apparently, being near a man with Callan's caliber of good looks caused any common sense in my head to dissipate. That, and the alcohol, of course.
And the kiss at the fair with Callan, while it was short-lived, it definitely left me wondering what it might have been like if we continued. But then, I forbade myself from thinking that way. I banished the thought to the darkest corners of my mind, locked it away, and threw away the key. I was not going there.
For the last three days, I'd had a recurring thought about how Callan had said he didn't tell me what I'd done at first because he didn't want to embarrass me. I don't know why, but that tugged at my heartstrings a bit. It helped me work on my damaged pride enough to invite him over tonight.
After throwing on a fitted black tank top and cut off shorts, I let my hair loose from its bun purgatory and let it fall down my back. I usually only wore it up for work because I didn't want to risk hair in anyone's food. The consequence of that was a headache, so I much preferred to have it down. Plus, I preferred how I looked when my hair framed my face.
I found Callan in the kitchen searching through the liquor cabinet. He'd taken my 'make yourself at home' comment to heart - not that I minded. I'd just finished an eight hour shift of serving customers. Might be nice to be the one being served.
"What's on the menu, bartender?" I asked, lifting a brow before sitting down at the peninsula to face Callan.
He carried a bottle of bourbon from the cabinet and set it down on the counter. "That depends." He made his way to the fridge which was much too short for a man his size. He bent at the waist, looking through the contents, and my eyes fell to his butt. I swore to God, I'd never checked out a man's butt until this moment. All I could think of was why the hell had it taken me so long?
