Page 187 of The Storm

“The size of that hickey,” she says. “Was it a velociraptor? Did you make sweet, sweet love to Count Dracula?”

I quickly shove the smoothie cup into the crook of my elbow and slap a hand over the spot on my neck. I feel my face heat at the film reel of highlights from last night. I’m pretty sure Nick sucked that hickey onto my neck while he was pounding into me at the kitchen counter. There’s also a hickey on the inside of my right thigh and bite marks on my hip and chest and thank fucking God for clothes.

“It was just some guy,” I mumble.

“Just some guy,” Dia scoffs. “Way to downplay it. Go, your neck looks like you lost a fight with the predator.”

“It’s not that bad,” I say.

“Was he hot?” Bridge pipes up. “He clearly has an unusual number of teeth, so that narrows it down by a lot.” She grins at Dia. “We should ask the photographer for pictures of smiling people from the event.”

“Oh my God,” I mutter.

They’re both still laughing when they follow me inside, but once the door shuts, Bridge is all business. “All right—” She slams her hands onto her hips. “—where is he?”

“On the couch last time I checked,” I say before we round the corner to the living area. There he is, still with his arm thrown over his eyes, snoring softly.

“Aww. How sweet,” Bridge says with a saccharine smile before she marches to the kitchen, grabs a glass from one of the cabinets, fills it with cold water, and adds some ice from thefridge. Then she walks back to the couch and dumps the whole thing over Callum’s head.

He lets out an earsplitting screech when the ice cubes rain down on his face and scrambles to get up, looking around wildly, cold water dripping down his face from his hair.

He blinks when he sees Bridget’s murderous smile.

“Oh,” he says slowly before he drags his palm over his face and puts on strained a smile of his own. “Bridget. Wow. You. Look. Great. So beautiful. Is that a new skirt? Because your legs in it are fire.”

I pretend-cough into my hand and say, “Making it worse.”

Callum sends me a panicked look. “Brain!” he says too loudly. “You… have a beautiful brain. Full of the smartest thoughts. Your mind is… It’s a great mind. A smart mind. But mostly, what gets me is how compassionate you are. A real saint. An understanding saint.” His shoulders slump. “Please don’t shout too loudly. I’m very hungover, and Coach already tore me a new one. I puked on the field. Does it make you feel better?”

The saccharine smile is back on Bridget’s face. She pats Callum’s cheek. “I’m going to make your life hell, baby boy.Thatis going to make me feel better.” She turns on her heel. “I’m setting up in the kitchen. Go take a shower,” she throws over her shoulder.

Callum stares after her with a thoughtful look. “Is it wrong that I found that whole thing just a bit arousing?”

I make a face. “Dude, she’s like my sister.”

He shrugs and looks marginally happier as he heads to the bathroom, leaving me and Dia standing in the living room.

She sends me a sly look and opens her mouth.

“No,” I say firmly.

Her shoulders slump. “Oh, come on. The one time you have something interesting going on, and you won’t tell me?”

I flip her off, and she laughs before she follows Bridge into the kitchen.

I close my eyes and inhale deeply a few times.

It’s going to be a long day.

I haveevery intention of escaping Callum’s long before Nick shows up. Because I’m a coward.

Instead, when he walks in, I’m still seated at the kitchen table with Bridget opposite me, going through Callum’s schedule while the man himself is in the living room with Dia, controller in hand, shouting at the TV.

Once again, I’m reduced to flinching at everything that sounds like it could be the door opening anywhere in a five-block radius. The more time passes, the twitchier I get. At a round of gunfire from the video game, I jerk so hard water splashes over the rim of the glass I’m holding.

“Oh my God,” Bridget says, moving her papers out of spill range and glaring at me. “What the hell is the matter with you, Go? Are you having a seizure?”

“I think I’m coming down with something,” I say. That something is cowardice, but we don’t have to go into the specifics.