Chasing Calloway

Fifteen - Love And Duty

Song Of The Chapter || State Of Grace (Acoustic) - Taylor Swift

𝐀𝐍𝐍𝐈𝐄

He takes some time in the bathroom. I appreciate the time to configure my thoughts. Seriously, what is with him? Just when I think we've reached equilibrium, he throws everything off balance with one of those comments.

I curl up in the armchair, I grabbed one of the blankets that was thrown about the living room and I've already made myself cozy. If I'm here for at least two hours, I might as well be comfortable.

Rhys exits the bathroom. "I'm making coffee, you want any?" he asks.

"Coffee?" I turn my head towards the window. "It's 9pm." I chastise.

"No time like the present." He says. He heads into the kitchen to make a cup.

"Do you have any tea?" I ask.

The emotions of disgust that he's harboring are palpable in that moment. "Tea? Why tea? Are you a grandma?" He eggs me on.

"At least I'm not a caffeine addict."

"Isn't there caffeine in tea?"

"Not the tea I drink."

"Then what the hell is the point?" he says, throwing his arms about.

"To have a good beverage." I counter.

"Exactly! So not tea," He smirks as the cup begins to fill with a coffee blend. The second its finished, he takes the cup and heads over to the couch. He stops in his tracks when he sees the garment. The one that was the source of idiocy for the night. The pink lace bra.

He immediately picks it up and throws it out of sight. I stifle a laugh.

"Won't Addison be mad if she finds out you threw her bra?"

"Who said she has to know?" He replies, putting a finger to his lips. He sits down on the couch, then stands back up. He sat on something. It was the copy of Much Ado About Nothing. He takes the book and puts it on the coffee table. Right alongside all his hockey books, there was William Shakespeare.

"So the Shakespeare book was yours." I comment. "I thought it might have been Addison's."

"It's mine." He confirms. He cocks an eyebrow at me when I throw him a quizzical glance. "What, is it impossible to think I like Shakespeare?"

I laugh a little, while it's a surprise. It's certainly not impossible. "I just...I don't think I've ever seen you show an interest in anything besides hockey."

He reflects on the comment more than I thought he would. He stares at the book with a softness. I've never seen him look at anything or anyone like that before.

"My mom loves Shakespeare." He mentions. And just like that, my eyes are trained solely on him. I've never heard him talk about his mom, or really anyone in his family. I want to say something, I want to ask questions. But this is a side of him I've never seen before. It's vulnerable. I'm too afraid that if I make the wrong move, he'll run like a startled animal. So I stay silent. It's silent for a while. Until it isn't.

"She was an actor." There's such a fondness when he looks at that book. Like she's there. "It wasn't like she was an A-List celebrity or anything, but she was an actor. She acted in some things in New York. I never got to see it, but I can only imagine how good she was."

Maybe I'll scare him away, but maybe it's worth trying to say something. "I'm guessing she did Shakespeare plays?" I ask. The tone is low, soft. I hardly recognize my own voice.