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 swing my hair over one shoulder, tilting my head to admire the way I look. You need all the confidence in the world for tonight. Exhaling deeply I pick up my phone from the vanity, typing a message slowly.
To Slytherin We need to talk, now.
Moments later the screen lights up with his response.
From Slytherin
What happened to needing space?
To Slytherin
I'm waiting upstairs in the master bedroom.
I send the message and dejectedly place my phone into the pocket of my jeans. Staring at my reflection I can see the tears starting to swell with each painful throb in my heart. He doesn't deserve this. These mind games are cruel but if he thinks I'm the monster I've warned him about then he'll stay away.
The bedroom door opens and I close my eyes when it creaks shut, "Callie?"
"I'm here," I hear the recording play on the other side of the door and listen to the floorboards groan in the process. "I thought we could have some fun . . . just to blow off some steam."
"I thought you wanted to talk?" He asks, my eyes squishing shut tightly when I hear the bedside table drawer open.
"How about you take the condom and show me what I'm missing."
The drawer shuts and I listen closely to the noises on the other side. Even though I shouldn't have - I trusted Phoebe to help me with this. Surprisingly, she wasn't as pissed as I thought and once I explained why I needed her to pretend to be me, she agreed.
On the conditions once I was back on top, she would be co-captain and I was honest with her from now on - especially about boys. Which I see as a fair trade.
Hearing them kiss, followed by clothes rustling I finally open my eyes and turn my back to the mirror. He actually thinks it's me. When he realizes it's not and the fact I would go to these lengths - he'll run for the hills. In theory, that is.
I hear clothes hit the floor, the bed creak under their weight, and a moan escape from him. There's a brief pause and I pull my phone out to send a message to Vincent who should still be in April's company. My hands are unsteady with the background noise - mentally wishing the music from downstairs was deafening instead of pulsating.
