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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"While this is sweet and all," Vincent starts, his arm resting slack on the back of my chair and plucking at the leather lounge. "Normally, I'm making out with my dates by now or going upstairs."
I drop my head back to his arm and give him a deadpan look, "I'm not having sex with you despite you trying so hard for it to happen."
"Why's that?"
"You shouldn't even need to ask that," I roll my eyes as he continues to be confused until I continue. "Because you're my best guy friend and I don't want to lose you."
He nods once, pausing when a couple enters the basement giggling about some beer pong game upstairs. The whole room is renovated with floorboards, furnished just like another living room with the bonus of a pool table where betting games are taking place.
The only people down here are those wanting to escape the ruckus upstairs and cool off watching a video game or play a game of pool. It means I'm safe from having a drink spilled on my cast and avoid having to run into anybody I don't want to talk to.
Although, Summer is coming down at some point after she stops making out with some guy, she met at a party last week. But Summer's my best friend and I've barely talked to her all week considering she hasn't been to school since Monday. I need to make sure she's okay.
Vincent draws me back in, "If we weren't such good friends would you consider having sex with me? Purely hypothetical."
"You really want me to answer that?" When he nods, I sigh, pointedly giving him a scan from head to feet - although I know my answer regardless. "But yes, I would if we weren't best friends and other things."
"Other things being that idiot upstairs?" He asks and ignores my glare. "He fucked up. There's no way he has an excuse good enough to explain it."
I smile sadly and lift my head to take a sip from my drink, "I really wish this wasn't just raspberry."
"Well apart from boy drama what's so shitty about your life?" He asks, taking a drink from his own cup and shrugs his shoulders. "And the school. I thought you had a good life?"
"I'm in a fight with my dad and I'm ignoring my mother," I dryly answer, hoping to god he doesn't repeat this to anyone else. "I think I've got a few problems psychologically as well . . . paranoia, moderate OCD, trust and abandonment issues . . . I make a great catch."
"I understand the trust and abandonment issues. My dad took off when I was younger," He pauses for a moment, opting to stare at the ceiling then acknowledge me. "He left when I was nine because he owed a drug debt which resulted in our house being trashed. Then mom got another boyfriend a few years later, who stole and sold anything of value leaving us in debt. So, we ended up moving in with my grandparents . . . I love my mom, but she's got shit taste in men."
"That's horrible." I mumble, purposely leaning on his arm to get his attention.
He looks ghostly and vulnerable from his admission but nods stiffly. "It is but I don't let it get in my way of being hopeful my future won't be shit. Apart from the fact I can't have a stable relationship to save my life . . . I've got a solid shot unlike any of my family who were high school dropouts or teen parents. "
