Callie Reeves is a perfectionist. She has control over everything from her friends to her grades, the cheerleading squad she captains and anyone inbetween - even when it comes to dating.
After creating a list of rules to keep her no-strings attache...
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I roll the metal switch and press the button to fuel the flame. Exhaling slowly I tilt the candle to light the wick to rid the smell of sex from the room. It's not overly noticeable - now that the sheets have been stripped and we've showered but I'm not risking it.
"When is your dad getting home?"
Placing the candle down on the dresser I fiddle with the lighter. I avoid answering immediately, knowing he'll insist on staying with me longer than he needs to. If he stays then we have to talk, if we talk I'll be reminded of the reasons I made the rules in the first place.
"He'll be home later," I flick a hanging pendant from my jewelry tree. "You don't need to stay . . . it's best if you leave."
Silence. Please don't argue with me. I sucked my lips in, bracing myself for the sincerity of his next words. Sam always tries to stay to make me feel less cheap and get me to crack a smile. Both of which are incentives that blinds me of rule seven.
Rule 7 - don't bring feelings into it.
"Seriously, I don't have a problem staying until later if you need me to."
"But I don't need you to," Spinning around I keep my mask on, although it crumbles slightly at his disheartened expression. I avoid his eyes while moving closer. "I don't need you to stay for my sake. It's only paranoia of being here by myself - nothing else."
"You make it quite clear that it's not because you want me to stay but from fear of being alone . . . in the house . . ." Sam sits up straight from the end of my bed, spreading his legs as I wedge between them.
I furrow my eyebrows and begin to style his thick brown hair how he normally wears it. "Then why do you insist on trying to press every time?"
"Don't things break when enough force is applied?" I stop spiking his hair and meet his eyes. "Yeah, I thought the science nerd part of you would appreciate the pun."
I purposely yank his hair, craning it back. Without missing a beat he yanks my thighs to straddle him. I hover above and sink down when his hands slip underneath the hem of my sleep shirt, pushing it to rest on my hips.
"I'm not a nerd," I whisper, hating how vulnerable I sound admitting it. Sam's fingers slowly make circles in a soothing manner that feels better than it should and his eyes are soft with understanding. "I'm a lot of things - bitchy, short-tempered, stubborn . . . just to name a few."
"Uh-huh and how exactly do you see me?"
Oh no. It's a trap. Inhaling deeply I run through a mental list and cross of the ones that would lead him on. But all of his personality traits are good and it's alarming I can't find one which makes him out to be a horrible person like me.
"You're optimistic and charismatic - both contribute to you being a light that draws people in."
