Falling into You [COMPLETED]✓

BFF... or BF?

I wasn't always in love with Colton Calloway; I was in love with his younger brother, Kyle, first. Kyle was my first one true love, my first in every way.  I grew up next to the Calloways.

Kyle and I were the same age, our moms having given birth to us in the same hospital, two rooms apart, two days apart. Kyle was the older one, much to my irritation.

Only by two days, but that was enough for Kyle to get a big head about it and tease me mercilessly.

We played in the same Pack-N-Play in his mom’s house as babies. We shared blocks and dolls (Kyle played with dolls as much as I did until we were three or so, which I in turn teased him mercilessly about).

We learned to ride bikes together; my dad taught us both, since Mr. Calloway was a congressman and gone a lot. We studied together, did homework together.

We were best friends before anything else. It was always kind of assumed we’d end up together, I think. Not quite arranged, necessarily, just…assumed.

His dad, the up-and-coming congressman; my dad, the CEO, the über-successful businessman. Their beautifully perfect children, together? Well, duh. I mean, I know that sounds arrogant or whatever, but it’s just the truth.

I’m not perfect, obviously. I have some flaws. I’m kind of wide in the hips for my height, and my bust is a little too big for my frame, but whatever. I know what I look like, but I swear I’m not vain about it. 

We weren’t aware of those assumptions until our sophomore year. We’d been friends until that point, best friends, but just friends.

I was never a boy-crazy type of girl. My conservative father wouldn’t have allowed it, for one thing, and I wasn’t permitted to date until I was sixteen anyway.

So then, the week after my sweet sixteen, Jason Dorsey asked me out. Jason was the runner-up to Kyle’s bid for complete perfection.

He was blond where Kyle was raven-haired, a more bulky muscle-builder type to Kyle’s lean, cut, lupine grace, and Jason wasn’t quite as smart or charming as Kyle, but then I might have been biased. 

I didn’t even hesitate when Jason asked me if he could take me to dinner after school. I mean, duh, right? Just about every girl at my high school dreamed of Jason or Kyle asking them out, and I was BFFs with Kyle, and had a date with Jason.

He did it at my locker, which was always a busy spot, so it was a public thing. Everyone saw, and they were all so jealous, let me tell you.

I met Kyle at his souped-up Camaro after sixth period like always, and we took off, tires squealing. Kyle tended to drive like he was in a high-speed chase, but he was a very skilled driver, so I never freaked.

His dad had made sure Kyle was given courses in defensive driving by an actual FBI agent, so Kyle could out-drive most of the cops at the local PD. 

“Guess what?” I asked, excited, as Kyle drifted a wide left turn onto the dirt road leading to our neighborhood.

Kyle shot me a lifted-eyebrow look, so I grabbed his bicep and squeezed, squealing, “Jason Dorsey asked me out! He’s taking me to dinner tonight!”

Kyle nearly drove off the road. He jammed on the brakes, spinning the car into a sideways skid on the dirt road leading to our houses.

Kyle twisted in the leather bucket seat, one arm braced on the headrest of my seat, brown eyes blazing. “What did you just say?” He sounded angry, which confused me. “’Cause I could have sworn you just said Jason asked you out.”

I felt my breath catch at the intensity in his eyes, his voice. “I…he did?” It came out like a question, timid and confused. “He’s—he’s picking me up at seven. We’re going to Brann’s. Why are you acting this way?”