Page 7 of Because of Her

“I always say you should bring a jacket just in case.”

“But it was such a nice day.” She drags out the word ‘day’ in complaint.

I rub my hands against her arms and stifle a laugh. We’ve had this conversation hundreds of times. Even with her years of living in Melbourne, Amira hasn’t quite caught on to the ‘four seasons in one day’ concept. She still seems to think her thin, cotton, long sleeve shirts will be enough once the sun goes down. If I haven’t convinced her otherwise by now, I doubt I ever will.

As we step in front of the trendy Italian restaurant, we’re hit by a steady warm glow from the outdoor gas heaters. Amira snuggles up to one, cocking an eyebrow as she rubs her hands up and down her arms.

“Can you order?” she requests, stepping closer to the red glow.

Amira nudges my side with her elbow when I return after ordering our food. “So?”

“So what?” I ask, even though I know full well what she is referring to. After living with her for nearly two years, I’ve never acted as lustful and embarrassing as I had earlier.

“You and Callum?” Another nudge.

I bring my hands up to my face to hide the blush I can feel forming.

“Was it that obvious?” I groan while Amira hums heragreement.

“We worked together as teenagers,” I start. “Well, I was a teenager. He was pretty much an adult when we first met.”

I think back to those days, the stories we used to share in between stocking shelves or serving customers. Although at first we hadn’t spent much time together outside of work, our friendship blossomed over time. Shortened text messages became longer phone calls. Online chats became hours long. Eventually, we were best friends. The few years between us meant nothing, and we spent more time together than we did apart. I think about how much of a slap in the face it was when we lost touch after I quit. I had hoped me starting my own career would allow him to see me as more of an adult and less of the acne-covered teenager under his supervision.

I shudder at how wrong I had been.

“I had a massive, likemassive, crush on him when we worked together,” I tell Amira. “But he was promoted to shift supervisor, and I had to back off.”

She stares at me, her brows furrowing, and I know she sees through the little white lie.

“Okay, so he was promoted to shift supervisor and I used to imagine that was the only reason he hadn’t asked me out.” I shake my head.

Despite the huge crush I had on Callum as a teenager, I can acknowledge how unrealistic I’d been at the time. Three years doesn’t seem like a big gap when you’re over thirty, but at fifteen I can only imagine how young I seemed to him.

“It was ridiculous, I don’t think he ever gave any clues he was into me, but we did get along really well. I thought we were friends, at least.”

“Until?” Amira prompts.

“Until I quit. The next time we hung out, I kissed him.” I wait for a response, but instead, Amira looks at me with a cocked eyebrow, urging me to continue.

“Nothing happened. We kissed, and it was terrible. Notthe kiss, but everything that happened after. I was so embarrassed. And we just, I don’t know, plateaued. He moved to the other side of the city for another promotion, and eventually, we lost contact. I guess I’d hoped once he was no longer my ‘boss’ things would be different.” I use air quotes around the word boss, because in reality, he was hardly that.

“They were, but not in the way I had hoped.”

“He never tried for anything more than friends?”

A large puff of air escapes. “No, he never did. And it’s been more than ten years since I’ve seen him.”

Rubbing my hands together under the heater, I fiddle with the spinning ring I always wear.

“So why did you act like a lovesick teenager again?”

“Argh, I did, didn’t I?” The blush spreads back up my neck and onto my cheeks.

A lot has changed in the past ten years, and I wonder what my younger self would think if she knew we would end up neighbours with Callum Wilson. I’m sure she would be giddy with excitement, dreaming up all the ways to rekindle our friendship. Hoping yet again it would lead to something more. But strangely, I don’t feel any of that. Instead, the thought of living across the hall from my teenage crush creates a well in my stomach, and I’m afraid if I think too much about it, I won’t be able to eat my dinner.

Callum may have been my best friend once, years ago, when he was the person I trusted the most. But he became another in the ever growing list of people who leave me behind. The thought of him being back in my life is overwhelming.

“But he is pretty fucking hot,” I admit. Because history aside, I can acknowledge some eye candy when I see it.

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