Just the Beginning [Complete ✓]

Chapter 16

Bullshit.

It's complete bullshit, is all  I think as I make my way down the stairs.

It's been almost two hours since school ended and Sawyer was a complete no show. Which is ridiculous. There was no way he could have forgotten; we discussed this only a few periods ago and, during break, we confirmed it as we passed by each other. So him forgetting was ridiculous.

I walk down to the bus stop, hand firmly gripping at the strap of my bag and I'm seething the whole ride home. I can't even begin to explain how frustrating it is being ditched when he was the one who made the plan. A woman on the seat next to me looked over incredulously, asking if I was alright. Of course, I lied. I said I was fine, just tired and her eyes gave a once over before she nodded and turned away; it was definitely the uniform. She spotted the uniform, decided I was a school child and must have had late activities and thus, I was exhausted and ready to clonk out the second I got home. That or she decided I was a child and not worth the worry.

On the walk up to the house, my nostrils are practically flaring and I'm gripping my bag strap so hard I can barely feel my hand at all.

Stomping my way into the house, I find them in the living room. On the screen is a game and they each have a controller in hand. When I step into the doorway, Adrian glances back and a grin forms. 

"Afternoon, Cal," he says and that's it. No further questions. No why weren't you on the bus or why are you back so late; none of that. Though that's not what irks me.

It's when Sawyer's head whips around and he greets me, smiling. Freaking smiling, as if all of that did not just happen. As if I wasn't just on the bus by myself after waiting two freaking hours for him to show up. It irks me that while I was waiting, he's been at my house this entire time.

Without thinking, the first words that pop into my head in that moment pass through my lips, eyes narrowing. "You're a dick," I hiss. I don't wait for a response as I make my way up to my room, shutting the door way harder than I mean to. 

I'm pressing into the door when my eyes flicker over to the picture on the bedside table. I'd forgotten to pack it away last night and now, I lift it closer to my face. My bag drops to the floor and I'm seated beside my bed. "You wouldn't have done something like this," I murmur with a shake of my head and fuck, my hands are shaking. The picture is a blur with how much they're shaking and I don't know why they're shaking, but I want them to stop. I need them to stop, so I press my hands against my legs firmly and silently plea for them to stop. And my face is wet. How is it wet? I press my trembling hands against it, wiping at the tears that just won't stop coming and I can't breathe, but I need to. I need to breathe and—

Cally, I need you to take in a deep breath. Good, yes, just like that. Now hold it for ten seconds and then exhale, and repeat. Until you feel like you're breathing on your own—

"Callan?" It's Sawyer.

I need to get a hold of myself. Sucking in a breath, I count up until ten before exhaling, eyes shut as I repeat this for the next minute, and then a little longer as I'm almost back. It's not until my chest doesn't feel as tight and I'm able to take breaths easily enough that I respond. "What do you want?" I question as politely as I can manage without snapping at him. It's difficult to say the least. 

"I'm sorry, okay?" he says. "But seriously, you act like you've been stood up."

Gritting my teeth together, I get up and pull the door open. "That's because I was stood up!" I exclaim. "I agreed to your plans and somehow you were the one who was a no show. You stood me up."

"Oh, and I suppose that classifies me as a dick?" He queries, seemingly not phased by the withering look I directed solely at him. He quirks a brow, lips tugging up into a smirk that I want more than anything to just slap off his face.

Instead, I shake my head. "You're right," I say and this time I'm smiling. "It classifies you as something worse," I spit, putting emphasis on each word. I hate that I can't seem to tell whether my words are affecting him because somehow, he's still got that smug look and his eyes are shining with an emotion I can't place. I grip onto the door tightly.

"Oh, is that so sunshine—"

"I told you to stop calling me that,"  I snap in interruption. Surprise flickers across his face for a moment, as if I had been the one who forgot he wasn't allowed to call me that, but then that moment is over and his lips are tugging upward again. Though he's more curious than anything else.

"Why? Give me one reason." He lifts a finger to indicate the number one.

And I don't know what happens, but I snap. It's like everything is pouring out of me because I'm not thinking straight as I start accusingly, "Because you aren't him." I pause and my grip on the door is only tightening (if that's even possible at this point). "You may look like him and you may speak like him, but you don't act like him. You aren't him, and you sure as hell will never be him." I'm yelling at this point and my hands are shaking again. "So you have no right calling me that!" 

I can't bring myself to look at him, and judging by the sudden tension in the air, he can't bring himself to say anything. We stand there in silence, and I wonder if he's trying to process what  I've just said or if he's actually trying to think of a way to respond, but either way, he's quieter. So much quieter than usual. If this was what it took to shut him up, I should have said this sooner. 

I'm still staring at his boots when I find my voice again.

"You need to go," I whisper. "Leave please."

Before I can get any form of response, I shut the door and slide down to the floor, using my hands to cover my face as a sob wracks my body.

"You'll never be him."