Chapter 10- Callie

3.4K 190 38
                                    

My nap turned into more of a mini coma with a brief intermission for midnight microwaved pizza and a bathroom break. I slept so good, I woke up some odd combination of tired and well rested. There was no real reason I took a little extra time in the shower, making sure I was exfoliated and shaved to the point of glowing. I didn't put any more effort than usual on my makeup. I normally put on mascara, eyeliner, and tinted lip balm, I lied to myself.

My effort didn't go unnoticed. Nicole's wolf whistle when I walked into the break room had me wanting to deck her. "Hey foxy lady," she hooted at me as I rolled my eyes. I didn't do that much. Did I really look that bad on a daily basis? No wonder our old manager Sharon always had a comment. If I could get away with wearing a messy bun and sweatpants every day, I would. Still, I had on a slightly more fitted shirt than usual, had ironed both my skirt and blazer, and had on new panty hose since my others had been... ruined. The mental replay of how they had been ruined had me pressing my thighs together to stave off the throbbing ache.

Nicole's waggling eyebrows and knowing looks at lunch weren't enough to get me to spill the beans on the guys. They were my secret and I was keeping them to myself, though I suspected Rachel knew more than she was letting on.

Everyone was on their best behavior, customer service smiles on full blast to avoid a writeup with management being on edge because of our visit later this week. I couldn't wait for it to be over and done with so everyone could take a well-earned breath.

The drive home is the mental break I hadn't even realized I needed. I don't even know why I've been freaking out all day, overthinking whatever the guys will say. It's silly and unfounded. I wouldn't be near as anxious if it was Dario picking me up. Rave. Always the source of my frustration. I wonder if he was ordered or volunteered for pickup duty. Would it even make a difference? The two of us alone in a car for heaven knows how long is a recipe for something, that's for sure. I can only pray it's something less explosive than our previous interactions. Our tension will either strangle us or push us together and only time will tell.

Knowing I need to change out of my work uniform and knowing what I'm going to change into are two completely different things. I'm only certain of the first. With the guys barging unexpectedly back in my life, laundry has fallen by the wayside along with grocery shopping, cleaning, and most basic household chores. I'm not proud of it, but ignoring it is clearly not doing me any favors.

Thirty minutes later and with my room in way worse shape than it started, I've landed on a cropped sweatshirt and a pair of high waisted gym pants, with pockets. It's basic, but cute. I'm not trying to impress anyone, I remind myself. Even I can't make myself believe that. Whatever, it's fine as my inner freak-out stays inner. Last thing I need is Rave realizes I'm panicking.

"Panicking over what?"

"You showing up and seeing me all frazzled like this," I turn and tell him, my face twisted in annoyance that I even have to explain.

Annoyance at the very real Rave standing in my doorway, his arms stretched wide over his head and holding onto my doorframe. The one I didn't hear come in and has been listening to me talk out loud to myself, about him. Kill me now.

His hearty chuckle has me give him a small smile of my own. I can't help it. He reminds me of some kind of big cartoonish bear when he laughs, still intimidating, but cuddly too.

"Don't worry Princess, I come bearing gifts." It's only now I notice the still steaming, extra-large coffee in his hands.

"If this is as good as I remember, I might be willing to take some time off your sentence," I tell him as I tip the cup to my lips. It singes my tongue and I doubt I'll be able to taste anything for the foreseeable future, but the warm hit of sugary caffeine is worth it. I can't help the low groan that leaves my throat as I cradle the cup in my hands.

Heathens & Hold Ups (Book 2 of the Heathens Duet)Where stories live. Discover now