American

3. calum

Calum was having a shitty-yet-manageable day so far.

Since a slightly irritated and concerned Ashton Irwin had rudely and unceremoniously decided to wake him from his peaceful slumber much earlier than he would've preferred and the fact his girlfriend was now wide awake, it didn't take long for the bitter argument she'd been fighting him over for months to start up again.

He was actually just about to fall back asleep when the bright overhead light in his tiny and musty dorm room slowly flickered on, and it didn't take long for his girlfriend to begin chewing him out.

For the fifth time that week.

Calum wasn't nearly as hungover from the party the night before as he probably should have been--considering how much alcohol he had consumed--but he still was a bit light-headed and the bright light and accusations weren't necessarily making him feel any better.

Unfortunately for him, however, he didn't realize until five minutes later the true extent of her anger, which resulted in even more tears and more emotional distress on her behalf.

"I can't do this anymore!" His girlfriend, Bridget, finally yelled, the brutally loud noise the only thing able to fully wake him up.

But by then, it was too late.

"Bridge, babe, it's too early for this. Come back to bed." He simply yawned, rolling over in his bed as if to make room for her, but in reality giving her the impression he didn't really care about what she was saying.

When, actually, he did care.

Just maybe not at the moment.

"Don't 'Bridge' me. You know exactly what you did." Bridget snapped back, more than clearly upset. The crazed, angry tone in her normally moderate voice caused Calum to freeze, rethinking everything he'd done in the past twenty-four hours that could possibly upset her.

Is she mad because I accidently ignored one of her texts? Forgot to call her back when she was in the middle of grocery shopping? Played a round of beer pong with Michael at the party last night? Got creamed by Michael so bad and got too drunk to remember what my last name was?

And when he took too long to reply, possibly long enough for him to fall back asleep, Bridget shrieked again, scaring away any possible thoughts of sleep from his brain. "Wait, are you even listening to me right now?"

Considering the fact that he may or may not have zoned out, Calum, like usual, had absolutely no idea what she was talking about. "Uh, yeah, of course I am. It's just--"

"Oh my God, I can't believe this." Bridget seethed, Calum just watched her intently for anything he possibly could've missed. "You're such a jerk, Calum Hood!"

At this he just rolled his eyes. "You just noticed that?"

"I'm so done with you." She ignored him, pacing around his room and running her hands through her naturally blonde curls. "So done."

Calum seriously debated whether or not to reply with a snarky comment about, if you're 'so done' with me, then why are you still here?, but his Christian side won over in the end.

So instead of countering her insult with another insult he just sighed, finally giving in. "Look, babe, I'm really sorry. Honestly, I am."

Her face streaked with tears, Bridget gave him a skeptical glance. "Sorry for what?"

"I'm sorry for everything I did, and for everything I didn't do." Calum lied easily, even though he wasn't sorry at all. "But I'm even more sorry that I didn't tell you how sexy you look wearing my clothes."