I ever heard one. When she stayed quiet, refusing to answer, I said, “I mean, why not you? What’s wrong with you? And I don’t mean that like something is wrong with you—because there’s not.”
Bree took her time in answering, “I’m not anything special, Calum.”
Thank goodness we were close to our destination, for I pulled into the parking lot near the park and was able to give her a long, hard look. It was a look that made her squirm in her seat, an intense look, a look I hoped got to her. “Stop it,” I told her.
“Stop what?” Though she asked, she knew exactly what I meant.
“Stop putting yourself down,” I said, reaching for her. I’d never put my seatbelt on, so I was able to lean over and grab her hand before she could pull it away. Her hand was small and delicate in mine, her skin cool and smooth. My fingers wrapped around hers more tightly than I intended, but that was because I knew this girl wasn’t hearing me.
I mean, she was hearing me, but she wasn’t believing me.
I had no idea if she was too shocked at my forwardness to pull her hand from mine, if she was like a deer in headlights, or if my touch put her at ease. “You do it too much,” I said. “I know I might not know everything there is to know about you, but what I do know is awesome. You’re awesome, Bree. You are special.”
My hand tightened around hers for a few moments, slowly releasing hers as I then reached to her hair—the pink seemed to glow in the dark, but that was just me exaggerating.
“Even if you didn’t have cotton candy hair, you’d be special,” I added, sweeping some of that hair behind her ear and causing her to shiver.
She let out the shakiest laugh I’d ever heard. A nervous, hesitant chuckle. “My hair isn’t cotton candy pink,” Bree said, glancing at me—though she didn’t turn her head to look at me. If she did, our faces would’ve been inches away. “That’s a different color pink.”
I leaned my elbow on the center console, breathing her in. “Why don’t we get out of the car and you can tell me all about the different shades of pink?” Not something I cared about learning, but if it would get her talking, I was down for it.
When it came to Bree, I was oddly down for anything.
This one…it was almost impossible not to like her.
Chapter Nine – Bree
The park Calum had taken me to was pretty, I had to admit. Circling a big lake, with stone pathways that were lit up by small string lights, it was like an escape from the real world. Plus, it wasn’t too busy; there weren’t many other people walking along its trails.
I’d never been here before. I wondered how Calum knew about it. Had he taken girls here before? He was awfully handsome; it wouldn’t surprise me to learn that he had many girlfriends in his past, all of which he’d wooed easily. I knew he’d just gotten out of a relationship, but I had no idea how many other relationships he’d been in.
More than me, definitely, but that wasn’t hard to accomplish, since I had a whopping zero to my name.
I…I didn’t like the thought of Calum with other girls, which was stupid, I knew. He wasn’t my boyfriend. He wasn’t even my crush. Hell, at this point, I had no idea what he was to me. This date was just a pity date to make up for how awful the last one was. This date didn’t mean anything, I knew.
And yet, when he’d grabbed my hand in the car, when his fingers had curled around mine and he told me those things…my heart had skipped a beat or two. My skin had grown hot when he’d tucked my hair behind my ear. I’d wanted nothing more than to look at him then, to see him leaning close to me—to close my eyes and imagine, just for a quick, fleeting moment, that I was someone else, that I was cooler, better.
That I wasn’t me.
Yes, being someone else would be so much better than being me.
My mind was full of questions, my thoughts racing a mile a minute as I walked side by side with Calum. He did not reach for me again, didn’t try to hold my hand as we walked, and for that I was both thankful and sad. Thankful