Page 59 of Of Heartbreak and Harmony
18
CALLIE
PRESENT DAY
My plan toavoid Torren today is easier than I thought it would be. Not just because he’s prepping for The Hometown Heartless’s opening show, but because I have a sneaking feeling he’s trying to avoid me as well.
I didn’t touch myself to thoughts of him last night despite how badly I wanted to.
I couldn’t make eye contact with either Sav or Mabel this morning at breakfast, either. I could feel their attention on me. Sav’s especially. Studying me. Sizing me up like I’m competition. I don’t want to know if they know what happened last night. I’m mortified.
I can’t believe I let it get so out of hand. How easily I let him consume me.
I can’t even blame the tequila. I very much knew how stupid I was being, but in the moment, Ivery muchdidn’t care. I was overconfident and reckless. It started as a game—a way for me to get the upper hand and wipe that arrogant smirk off his face—but damn, I was in way over my head. I forgot how skilled of a player he is, and my inexperience was glaringly obvious.
I’ve checked the internet probably twenty times between leaving the club last night and now, though, and so far, Craig was right. There’s nothing in the tabloids about me being a hussy in the club with TorrenKing. There is a video of us entering the club hand in hand. Some grainy pictures of us dancing, which were obviously taken from the general admission dance floor below the VIP lounge. One photo of me leaving with Craig, and one of Torren leaving with Damon, but nothing that even hints that Torren had his hands in my dress. His fingers inside me...
I clamp my eyes shut and give my head a shake, trying and failing to erase the memories of our clandestine dance party. No matter what I do, though, I can’t stop thinking of the contrast between his hot, calloused fingers and his cold silver rings on my skin. I can’t stop replaying how his tattooed hand and forearm looked as they disappeared into the cut-out of my dress. And when he pressed his erection against my backside, nestling it between...
“Damn it!” I groan into my empty bedroom, dropping my head in my hands. “Stop it. Stop it.”
I’m wound so tightly I might explode. My core throbs, and no matter how roughly I rub my thighs together, the feeling won’t abate.
“Fuck it.”
Hastily, I shove my hand into the front of my shorts, hissing the moment my fingers make contact with my clit. I bite my lip and rub in circles. When my imagination pretends my fingers are longer and adorned with tattoos and silver rings, I don’t fight it. I clamp my eyes shut and lean into the fantasy. I think of the way my dress looked with Torren’s hand moving beneath it, and soon my hips start to pulse of their own accord.
My breathing kicks up, and when a whimper tries to escape my lips, I let it. Sav and Mabel are gone. Craig is in the hallway. I’m blissfully alone.
I do my best to mimic Torren’s actions from last night, dipping low and inside myself before moving back to tend to my clit. I get myself so close, close enough to detonate, and then a knock on my bedroom door halts me.
“Callie. You in there?”
Jonah?I jolt up from the bed, fix my shirt and shorts, then rush to the door. I swing it open and blink rapidly. Yep. It’s Jonah.
“You okay? You’re a little flushed.”
I flush harder and look away. “Yeah, I’m...um. Sorry. Why are you here?”
He leans his shoulder against my doorframe and slips one of his hands into the front pocket of his jeans.
“Escorting you to the stadium.”
“Shouldn’t my boyfriend be doing that?”
Jonah shrugs, but he doesn’t offer up any explanation. That’s all the explanation I need, though. Torren didn’t want to come get me. It just confirms what I suspected—heisavoiding me.
“You gonna wear that?”
Jonah drops his eyes down my torso quickly, then back up.
“Oh. Shit. No. Just...um...give me one second.”
I shut the door in his face, and I think I hear him laugh. I hurry into my closet and pull out the outfit I selected to wear to the concert tonight. Tight black jeans—purposely not a dress—and a black halter top. I shove my body into the clothes quickly, double-check my makeup in the mirror, and tousle my hair before grabbing my heels and rushing back to the door.
“Sorry,” I say again as I step out of the bedroom. “I lost track of time.”
Jonah hums, and when I glance at him, I see the hint of a smirk. It catches me off guard. I’ve never seen Jonah with a smile on his face. While Torren doesn’t smile for me, he still hands them out freely to his fans and the media. Jonah, though? I can’t think of a single video or photo of him where he’s wearing a smile. Not even when I first met him four years ago. Indifferent stares and angry scowls, but never a smile.
