VIOLET

Chapter 7

a/n That is what Callan's hair looks like^^^ I wasn't sure if I described it well enough lol

Callan

The music in McGees made the wooden walls shake. There were dim Edison lights that hung from the walls in little wires and thick rustic ropes. Eight barstools line the long stainless steel bar. People leaned against the counter, others sat lazily in the stools. The rest of the area had round, sticky tables that were tall enough to stand at. 

I sat at the bar, my elbow propped on the table as I watched a group of girls dancing at the far end of the room. My untouched drink was dripping with condensation next to me. 

I've been staring at these girls who were trying to shake things they didn't have. The other guys on my team were here, too. They were closing in on the girls like vultures to a carcass.

I was trying to get in the mood, but I couldn't find my appetite to want anything besides a certain feisty girl in my soccer jersey. 

She didn't realize it, but her jersey had my number and last name on it. And she looked delicious in it. The jersey revealed her figure, her chest just big enough for me to imagine, but not too big for me to handle. She had tucked it in, showing off her hips which were perfectly curved. 

She wasn't a model, imperfect by social standards, but something about her body drove me crazy... small chest, small waist, wide hips, strong legs, small arms, little ankles... Her hair was dark, messy, wavy... Her cute little lips were naturally full, a soft pink- delectable. 

I stomped on my ego, which was beginning to inflate with just the thought of her beautiful body wearing my jersey. 

She obviously didn't realize what the jersey meant and I was probably just being full of myself.

Fvck, I didn't even know her name. Did she know mine?

I sighed, not used to this feeling of frustration.

I usually got what I wanted when I wanted. 

No.

Her voice, like liquid gold, replayed in my head.

I raked my hands through my now damp hair for the nth time, letting out an angry sigh.

"What's got you upset, honey," Warm, soft cleavage was pressed into my arm.

I turned to look down at a doe-eyed girl with some blonde straight hair. It looked stiff, not like the wavy black hair which was keeping my mind occupied. 

The girl cleared her throat, as if that would gain my attention she never had. Her mascara was already starting to smudge, making her look like a raccoon. I quirked a brow, hopefully looking unimpressed.

"You don't remember me?" She pouted, pushing out her small lips in mock-sadness.

I racked my brain for her name, or for a reason why I would ever sleep with her.

I looked her over, trying to recognize her. She was wearing a lowcut shirt that revealed her chest. Ah, yeah. I probably had one too many one night and those were reason enough.

"Sorry, give me a second," I gave a humorless smile, adjusting my arm which was slowly disappearing between her melons. 

"That's okay," She chuckled, trying to sound seductive, but it came out like a cat about to puke.  I forced my face to give nothing away, but I felt my skin crawl with the noise. "You can make it up to me?"

"Sorry, I'm not in the mood tonight," I said, trying to be nice by giving her an apologetic smile. She looked up at me, blinking as if she couldn't believe what she was hearing. She quickly recovered, shaking her head.