Stone Cold Notes: A Rock Star Romance (The Seasons Change)

“MOMMY…”

One soft whisper in my ear, and my eyes flew open. I immediately regretted it, though. I wasn’t hungover, but my room was way too bright, and the sunlight stung my tired eyes. I’d gone to bed with closed curtains, but they hadn’t stayed that way.

“Mommy!” Tiny hands gently patted my cheeks, and I opened my eyes more carefully. Round, amber eyes—a shade lighter than mine—and an upturned, button nose filled my vision. My favorite way to wake up.

“Hi, baby buddy.” I smoothed my hand over my son’s wild, copper curls. “Is it time for me to wake up?”

“Wake up time,” he replied, tugging on my blankets. “Come on!”

“Are you hungry?”

He shook his head. “No. I ate already.”

“Did you?” I grabbed his hand, which was still just a bit sticky from his breakfast, and nibbled on his finger. “Can I eat you then? I’m starving.”

He dissolved into giggles and denial. I pulled his thirty-pound body into bed with me so I could tickle his tummy and grab a few snuggles before he ran away. Ezra was sweeter than most freshly turned three-year-olds I’d met, but he still contained a fully charged battery run by miniature Tasmanian devils. He would lie next to me and give me the cuddles both of us required to start our day right, but only for so long. Then he’d be out of here, charging up and down the stairs, running in circles around Aunt Jenny’s cats, Lyle and Lovett, and cooking up plans to overthrow kingdoms and governments. That was, until seven thirty every night, when he passed out as soon as his head hit his pillow.

“Ezra! I told you to let Mommy sleep.” Great-Aunt Jenny rushed into the room, her cheeks rosy. “Sorry, Birdie-girl. Your child is a slippery one. I figured you could use some extra sleep after your exciting night, but the second I turned around to wash some dishes, little Houdini made his great escape.”

Ezra climbed onto my chest and tucked his head under my chin. “I missed you,” he cooed. This kid could’ve broken my favorite vase right in front of me and gotten away with it if he used that voice. The most dangerous part of him was he knew he had me wrapped around his pudgy finger. Three-year-olds should never wield that much power.

When I was nineteen and pregnant, alone, depressed, and so distraught, some days, I didn’t think I’d survive to see the next sunrise, it would have helped more than anything to view a snippet of what life would be like as a mother. Not that it was easy. It wasn’t, and that was okay. Loving this boy, my boy, made those early days fade away. I lost a lot when I got pregnant with Ezra, but none of them were more monumental than what I gained. It took me a while to see that, but once I realized it, that sureness seeped into my bones, and I never doubted it once.

“It’s okay.” My fingertips trailed up and down his back. “I’m not that tired. I should get up anyway.”

Jenny leaned against the doorframe. At fifty-four, she hardly fit the image of a great-aunt, but she was the youngest of my great-grandparents’ children by ten years. A true ‘oops’ baby. She was my mom’s aunt, but they were only six years apart, so they grew up more like cousins.

When I was a kid, and I guess even now, I wished Jenny had been my mom. She was the cool aunt who traveled and dated and always wore beautiful clothes. She’d been married young to a police officer who was killed in the line of duty before their second anniversary. She never had children, but she’d taken a special shine to me from the start. She said it was because I was the only one of her nieces and nephews who’d inherited the Macallan copper hair like her.

Whatever the reason, she took me in, no questions asked, when I was pregnant with Ezra, and had supported me in almost every way since. Thanks to money from her late husband, I’d been able to attend college too.

She still traveled and dated and wore beautiful clothes, but now, she had a twenty-two-year-old and a preschooler to come home to.

“Good, get up and tell me every single detail.” Her eyes narrowed on me. “You don’t look much worse for wear, so it couldn’t have been too fun.”

Ezra was beginning to get restless, but he stayed put when I wrapped my arms around him and gave him a gentle squeeze.

“It was interesting. We’ll have to talk during n-a-p time.”

Jenny’s eyebrows popped up. “Oh boy. If something happened that’s not appropriate for little ears, it must be delicious.”

Ezra raised his head. “What’s delicious?”

I grinned at his parted rosebud lips and excited eyes. This kid didn’t miss a single thing. “Your cheeks are what’s delicious.” I growled against his cheeks, giving him a gentle nibble. That got him going, flailing to get off me and dart from the room.

Jenny slowed him by grabbing his arm. “Go take a shower. I’ll guard this miscreant with my life.” Her voice faded as my son pulled her down the hallway and rattled on about the castle he wanted her to build for him with his wooden blocks.

After I rolled myself out of bed, I ducked into the shower. Under the warm water, I turned my mind back to last night. It hadn’t been a dream, even though it had felt like I’d been in a trance. The whole evening had been otherworldly, but the moment Callum Rose tugged me into his lap, I was someone else.

I was seventeen again, breathless with excitement after witnessing a stunning performance by the most beautiful man I had ever seen. I was eighteen and enthralled by the man behind the screen. I was nineteen and so head over heels, I would have given myself to Callum Rose if he’d asked.

The reality was, I was a twenty-two-year-old single mom who’d dry humped my teenage fantasy in front of a lot of people. I cringed at myself, but only a little. I’d been at a sex party after all. If anything, I probably should have been embarrassed I didn’t get naked and swing from a chandelier. Dry humping had to be considered tame in that crowd.

I scrubbed my scalp hard in hopes I could cleanse my brain a little too. My mind was far too jumbled to even attempt to make sense of what had happened last night.

Once I dried off, I threw on an oversized sweater and a pair of leggings and made my way downstairs with a basket of laundry tucked under my arm. Ezra leaped up from his place on the carpet with Jenny and dashed to the basement door.

My child had an obsession with dark, spooky places. A few months ago, he’d figured out when I came downstairs with the basket, I’d be going to one of those dark, spooky places, and he made sure to tag along.

He trailed behind me on the creaking steps. To tell the truth, I hated coming down to the basement, so it was nice to have company in the dank, cold space. Plus, Ezra gave absolutely no fucks about spiders and other creepy-crawlies. He’d chase them down or shoo them away for me without blinking. When he was two, I’d realized he was hardcore the moment he giggled as a spider the size of a half-dollar crawled all over his arms—because he’d picked it up.

“What should we do today?” I asked as I tossed laundry into the washer.

“Playground,” he suggested. He always suggested that.

“How about a candy factory instead?”

He guffawed. No way was he falling for that old trick. “No, playground!”

“Have you checked the weather? Isn’t it cold enough to turn your lips blue?”

Ezra rolled his eyes when he thought I wasn’t looking. I swore, he only put up with me because I supplied him with applesauce squeezers and the occasional donut. Otherwise, he would have been out of here.

“No, Mommy. I wear a big coat and gwoves on my fingers.”

I knew which battles to pick, and this one wasn’t one of them. Ezra needed to run and run fast so he didn’t tear down the walls of Jenny’s townhouse.

“All right. Let’s make a deal. We’ll go to the playground while the laundry’s in the washer. If your lips don’t turn blue, I’ll take you again after your nap.”

He crossed his little arms and considered my proposition as if we hadn’t made the same compromise a dozen times before. After a good thirty seconds, he nodded, taking me up on my deal.

We bundled up and walked hand in hand to the little park down the street. Jenny’s neighborhood had seen better days, but the sense of community couldn’t have been bought for all the money in the world. We knew most of our neighbors by name, and no one blinked at me being a young, single mom. Ezra was accepted just as easily as a kid from a nuclear family in the fancy burbs.

Mr. Sulaimani at the bodega always had a lollipop for him no matter how many times I protested, and he made sure to check in with me too. When I’d been in college, he’d insisted on reading the papers I wrote for English classes and would give me a bar of chocolate when I got an A.

Auntie Jackie—our next-door neighbor who wasn’t related to us in any way—dropped everything to babysit Ez when Jenny wasn’t available. She didn’t even let me pay her and loved my kid like he was her blood kin.

There were times over the last three years I’d felt like there were eyes on me. I didn’t know what it was exactly, just an awareness of someone else’s presence from time to time. But I hadn’t been afraid, and I still didn’t know if I was imagining things or the feeling was from living in a close-knit community where business didn’t remain private for long. Either way, I had gotten used to it and barely noticed the feeling anymore, though it was still there, lingering.

Life wasn’t easy, but it was good here.

After thirty minutes of swinging, running, and throwing himself off the playground equipment, Ezra and I stopped at the bodega on the way home for a cup of hot chocolate. Mr. Sulaimani helped Ez open a cherry lollipop while I went to the back to get his drink.

I was pumping the creamy hot chocolate from a carafe into a thick paper cup when someone slid next to me, leaning their elbow between the coffee pots and soda machine.

“Hey, mami. Is today our day?”

My stomach dropped. There were a lot of things I loved about our neighborhood, but Edwin Cruz wasn’t one of them. He was a few years older than me, handsome in a slimy way, with perfect edges in his hair, a sparkling diamond in his ear, and a slit in his eyebrow. His heavy, cloying cologne coated my nose and made my eyes water like pepper spray. I backed up a step to try to remove myself from his sphere.

“Sorry, no.” I hated myself for apologizing. Edwin had been asking me out for the last year and he always took my ‘no’ as ‘not right now.’

He reached out and ran a hand over my hair, smirking at my answer. “Come on, Wren. We’ll have fun together, you and me. I’m a quality guy. You just got to give me a chance.”

I shook my head even as my lips lifted into a tremulous smile. There was something about this man that made me slightly afraid to be truly firm with him and tell him he gave me the damn creeps.

“I don’t date. You know that.” That wasn’t a lie, but even if I did date, a man like Edwin would be the last I’d ever choose. I didn’t know what he saw in me that he liked—maybe he thought I was vulnerable and easy—but I didn’t see anything in him that interested me. He was too pushy—and way too smooth.

He kept touching my hair, not taking even an ounce of a hint. “We don’t have to leave the house, mami. I’ll be your man and take real good care of you. You won’t want or need anything else.”

Ezra came tearing down the chip aisle with Mr. Sulaimani on his heels, holding his lollipop up like he was the Statue of Liberty. “Mommy, where’s my choco?”

Edwin dropped his hand from my hair and crossed his arms over his broad chest with a disgruntled, “Hmph.” Mr. Sulaimani crossed his arms over his chest and gave him a dark look. I’d never seen that expression on him, but he appeared downright murderous.

I showed Ezra the cup in my shaking hand. “Here it is, baby buddy. Let’s go home. It’ll be cool enough to drink when we get there.” I grabbed his hand and pulled him back in the direction we came. Mr. Sulaimani called after us when I laid a dollar down on his counter and didn’t stay to chat, but I kept going.

Once we were outside in the daylight, I breathed easier. I didn’t think Edwin would actually hurt me, but he made me uncomfortable enough. I sometimes wished he’d fall into a sinkhole and never return. He could live a perfectly happy life on the other side of it, just not anywhere near me.

Ezra and I were back home in a minute, warming up and changing out the laundry together.

“Mommy, Bob Ross now?” he asked as we trekked upstairs from the basement.

“Sure. Do you want to paint along with him?”

His eyes lit up. “Yes! I wanna paint trees!”

I got Ezra set up with his smock and easel and turned on an old episode of The Joy of Painting for him. Bob Ross had randomly become Ezra’s hero, and I wasn’t mad about it. I’d prefer to hear about happy accidents from a man with a gentle voice and terrible perm than watch a zillion episodes of PAW Patrol.

Jenny and I sat at the small dining room table, which was only feet away from the living room, because three-year-olds and paint could be dangerous.

“Give me the tea, Birdie. What happened?” Jenny cupped her mug of coffee between her hands and leaned in close, eager to hear all about my night.

“Um…well, it wasn’t really a regular party.”

She tilted her head. “Of course it wasn’t. I imagine famous rock stars don’t exactly go to keggers. Was it at some chichi place?”

“Yeah, I guess so. It was in a penthouse apartment.” Jenny gripped my arm, already excited where this story was going. She had no idea. “I guess I expected that. What was surprising were the performers.”

Her eyes lit up. “Oh, was it someone famous?”

“No.” My cheeks flooded with heat. Not from embarrassment, but from the memories of watching that man and woman dancing and then fucking on their small stage. “They were…erotic performers. I think to get everyone in the mood.”

She looked at me like a deer caught in headlights. “What the hell, Birdie? What kind of party did you go to?”

I cupped my mouth and whispered. “A sex party.”

Her mouth fell open. “And did you—?”

“No.” I shook my head hard. “Absolutely not.”

She released a long sigh. “I didn’t think so, but—”

“I didn’t have sex, but there was grinding.”

Her hand flew to her chest. “Who the hell were you grinding? Adam?”

I shook my head again and chewed on my bottom lip. Jenny knew all about my emails with Callum. She was the one person I’d ever been able to be completely open with. When my heart broke over him, I cried on her shoulder. When he appeared in the lobby on my first day at Good Music, we freaked out together. Since she knew all about my loaded feelings for him, he was probably the last person she imagined I’d ever hook up with—especially since he had no clue I was the little bird he’d written to for all that time.

“Adam kissed me, but, um…Callum yanked me off his lap and said he wanted me.” I buried my face in my hands. “And then I kind of writhed all over him like…well, not anything like myself. I don’t know, he felt so good, and I forgot where I was. We were in a room filled with people, and I just…didn’t even think about that.”

When I peeked between my fingers, Jenny stared back at me with wide eyes and a gaping mouth. I’d stunned her. Then again, I’d stunned myself.

“We didn’t even kiss,” I continued, needing to get it all out. “I’m not sure he likes me. But when he took me and said he wanted me, god…” I still couldn’t believe that had happened. He kept telling me what a good girl I was. How perfect I was. How hard I’d made him come. No one had ever spoken to me that way, but his praise had coated me with carnal bliss.

Jenny had pulled herself together a little, but she still looked how I felt—like she’d stepped into an alternate universe where everything was almost the same but tilted just enough to make it entirely different.

“I don’t quite know what to say.” She fanned her face and looked at me like I was a stranger. “Wow, so there was grinding, and then…?”

“We both came,” I rushed out. “I made him come in his pants. Me. Wren Anderson.”

Her head bobbed on her neck like a couple screws had come loose. “I never doubted you had that power, Birdie. I always tell you how gorgeous you are.”

“You’re biased because you love me and I have your hair.”

I wasn’t gorgeous. On a good day, I was cute or adorable. On a very, very good day, when I carefully did my hair and layered on makeup, I could pass for sort of pretty. I was a few inches too short, more than a few pounds too heavy, and my features were too disproportionate to qualify for more than that. And that was okay. I’d learned to accept that and like myself anyway.

Most days, at least.

“You’re gorgeous,” she insisted. “That’s a fact. One day, you’ll recognize beauty doesn’t come in one model. But that’s really beside the point, isn’t it?”

“What is the point?” I was a pretty smart girl, but I was definitely flying blind when it came to sex parties, random hookups, and Callum Rose.

“Well, how did you leave it?” she asked.

I shrugged. “He put me in his car and sent me home.”

“Hmmm…” She tapped her chin. “Did you tell him about the emails?”

“Of course not.”

She snorted. “Of course not. And are you going to?”

I blew out a long breath. “I don’t want to.”

She leveled me with a hard stare. “That’s not really fair to him, honey. You have him at a disadvantage. If you had been two anonymous pen pals, neither of you would know if you crossed paths. But that’s not the case here. If you’re going to continue—”

“I can’t see that happening.”

“Why not?”

“Because…” I held out my arms, gesturing to the toys, the boy, and finally, myself. “Because of who I am and who he is.”

Her eyes narrowed. “You’re starting to piss me off.” It was true. When Jenny got mad, her Queens accent thrived. “You were you and he was himself last night. That didn’t stop either of you. So, tell the man who you really are. Be fair. Maybe he’ll surprise you.”

“I know I should.” I rubbed my forehead with my fingertips. “But it’ll open a whole can of worms I’m not ready for, you know?”

She patted my hand, sympathy melting in her soft brown eyes. “I know, baby. I really do.”

Ezra pulled my attention away to show me his masterpiece, putting the conversation to an end. He’d had a happy little accident with his paint water, so I had to stop fantasizing about my rock star crush and clean up the mess my little boy had made. If that wasn’t a reality check, I didn’t know what was.

Sundays were my shopping day. During Ezra’s naptime, I bought our groceries for the week, using the solo trip to grab a little peace and quiet for myself. Jenny was always urging me to go out and basically get a damn life, but that wasn’t me. I’d barely had one before my kid, not a chance I was going to make a big change now.

On the way home, I dawdled, peering into storefronts and pushing my wire cart filled with reusable shopping bags.

I stopped in front of a Krav Maga studio. I’d walked by it a hundred times, but never really looked in. Something about the pristine window and swirly script of the sign caught my attention.

There was a group of mostly men and a couple women gathered in a semicircle on a blue mat, watching a sparring match between two men in black uniforms with padded helmets on their heads. They were grappling and kicking, tossing elbows and trying to drag each other down to the mat. I winced every time an elbow connected, but I couldn’t seem to look away.

What kind of crazy person would have willingly signed up for something like this? Not me, that was for sure. I didn’t like pain, like most sane people.

When one man pinned the other down with his arm wrapped around his opponent’s throat and his legs around his middle, my breath caught like I was the one being choked. I glanced at the people watching the fight, wondering if anyone else was concerned about the two people trying to kill each other. But no, they all seemed enthralled.

At least, that was what I thought, until I reached the end of the semicircle and found I was being watched. Callum Rose stood on the mat with his arms folded over his chest, his hair swept back in a low bun, dressed in the same black uniform the men currently fighting wore.

He wasn’t watching the fight, though. My throat squeezed when our eyes connected through the glass.

His stare pinned me in place, even with the blast of cold wind that seemed to sneak between the fibers of my coat to torment my bare skin. I thought about leaving, but he held up a finger, bent to grab a gym bag from between his feet, and strode for the door.

Callum pushed outside and slung the bag across his chest. “Hello.”

“Um…hi.” I pushed my hair off my face with my gloved hands. “Don’t let me take you away from your murder-fight thing. I was walking home and stopped to watch and you’re here.”

He bowed his head. “I am here.” He crossed his arms, and his eyes bounced from my cart to me. “I was gettin’ ready to leave anyway.”

My stomach was doing somersaults, more than it ever had in his presence. I was babbling like a ninny and making a fool of myself. I needed him to go back inside and pretend he never saw me. It didn’t seem like he was taking the psychic messages I was sending him, so I probably needed to speak before things got too awkward.

“All done murder-fighting?” I pushed out.

His mouth quirked. “For now. There’s no tellin’ what will happen later.”

“Do you often have spontaneous murder-fights?”

His head cocked, and he looked at me like a puzzle. “You know it’s not really called that, right?”

“Yeah, I do.” I giggled, but it sounded more like a gurgle. “Well, I’m heading home. I have groceries that need to be put away.”

“Okay.” He nodded like he’d come to a decision. “I’ll walk with you.”

“Oh. Okay. All right.” My brow pinched as I really took him in. “Where’s your coat?”

He tugged on the strings of his hoodie. “This is all I need.”

“That isn’t true. It’s twenty degrees. You need something more than a sweatshirt.”

His nostrils flared as he exhaled heavily. “You’re worried about me?”

“I would worry about anyone who wasn’t wearing a coat in this weather.”

One corner of his mouth tugged up. “So, I’m not special?”

“Of course you’re special.” I pushed my cart forward and tucked my chin into my scarf. “Your fans would be devastated if you were taken out by a perfectly preventable case of pneumonia.”

I had no idea what I was saying anymore. This man flustered me, and I didn’t understand why he was walking down the cracked, uneven sidewalk by my side. He had to have somewhere better to be. If not murder-fighting, then signing autographs and trashing hotel rooms as rock stars were wont to do.

“Would you be devastated?” he asked.

“If you died from pneumonia?” He nodded. “I…I guess? Can we change the subject, please?”

“Sure.” He tucked his hands in his hoodie pocket and walked in silence. His long legs were easily twice the length of mine, but he kept my pace, staying right beside me. His arm brushed mine every other step, which had to be purposeful. If he wanted away from me, he could go. Instead, he was actively coming closer.

“Why are you here?”

He cocked his head. “Here?”

“In Queens. Why are you in Queens? There have to be hipster Krav Maga places in Manhattan.”

“There probably are.” He rubbed his jaw and stared straight ahead. “But I live close by, so I don’t know why I would go to Manhattan.”

I stopped walking, and he noticed immediately, pulling to a stop and facing me. “Is there something wrong?” he asked.

“You live close by?” He lived close by? Callum Rose, my first love and teenage obsession, lived in the same borough? “Why?”

He gave me that puzzled look again. “Why what?”

“Why do you live here?”

“Why do you live here?” he countered.

“Um…well, my great-aunt Jenny has a house a few blocks over and I live with her, so…that’s why I live here.”

His eyes were so pretty. It hurt me down to my guts to keep looking at them, but the idea of turning away churned my stomach even worse. They were so blue, they glowed. Like northern lights or something. They shouldn’t have been real, not on this street corner, in this city, on this planet. Getting to know Callum from far away all those years ago had muted him. I had known he was beautiful, but up close, he took my breath away.

His head dipped, and he reached down to open one of my grocery bags. “You should get home. Your popsicles will melt.”

“That isn’t an answer, you know.”

“Mmm.” He rubbed the golden stubble on his chin. “It’s true, though.”

“It’s twenty degrees, remember? I think the popsicles are okay.” I closed the bag, and my cheeks warmed, despite the cold. “Anyway, it’s silly to eat popsicles in the winter, but I—”

“You should go home.”

I huffed at his firm tone. “You keep saying that. You seem to like to tell me what to do.”

He gazed off down the road, his jaw ticcing. “Maybe I do,” he said softly. “I wish you would listen.”

As pretty as his eyes were, I wasn’t sold on this version of Callum. When he’d just been the man behind the screen, he hadn’t bossed me around or interrupted me. A part of me wished I had been able to keep him locked away as a memory.

I reached out and touched his arm. He went completely motionless.

“I think I’ll take you up on your advice. But I don’t need an escort, so I’ll say goodbye to you here.” I let go of his arm and wrapped my fingers around the handle of my cart. “Bye, Callum.”

He let me go with a simple nod. When I turned the corner a block away, I glanced back and found him in the exact same position, legs braced wide, arms crossed, following my every move with his eyes.

I gave him a little wave, even though he was giving me murder eyes, and continued on my way. When I was completely out of his sight, and he was out of mine, I finally took a deep breath and tried to calm my thrashing heart.

Everything was fine. That had gone just peachy. I was new to dealing with men I’d spent an evening dry humping, but I was pretty sure that had gone as well as to be expected.

I could have told him I’d once been his little bird, but since we wouldn’t be hooking up again, and The Seasons Change would likely be done recording their album soon, it seemed like an exercise in self-destruction. My memories of him might have been tainted by the true blue, live-and-in-technicolor version of him, but he could keep the ones he had of me.

Because that was all we were: memories of people we used to be to each other.

Four Years Ago

Dear Callum,

Do you date? How does that even work? Are you ever home long enough to take a girl on a date?

This line of questioning isn’t out of the blue, I promise.

There’s this guy I was paired with in my earth science lab. The only reason I sat beside him was because I missed my train and was late for class and it was the last seat available. Not that I need to explain myself, but since you know me, I’m sure you’re surprised I ended up beside a boy.

Anyway, his name is Will, and he has floppy brown hair and dimples. Kind of the opposite of Karthik Singh, which is a good thing, believe me. He doesn’t seem to mind that I’m mostly mute around him, and he told me he likes my hair (I almost vomited right then and there). Well, he asked me out, and I said yes.

Why?

I don’t even know if I like him, but jeez, I should be dating, right? I can’t just wait for this mythical shadow, can I?

Since you’re older, and hopefully wiser, I’m hoping you have advice for me. What do I do? How do I act? Do I even want to go out with him? Help me, Callum!

Your neurotic friend,

Birdie

Dear Callum,

Hey. Hello? It’s been two weeks. I wanted to make sure everything’s okay. I’ve gotten used to hearing from you more often and I’m sad not seeing your name in my inbox.

Just in case you’re wondering, the date went fine. We went to a movie so I didn’t have to talk a lot. And then we had ice cream and sat side by side on a bench to eat it so I didn’t have to figure out how much eye contact was too much eye contact.

He kissed my cheek and gave me a hug. I’m pretty sure he had an erection, which…I don’t know, is that normal?

The sad thing is, other than the errant erection, he was perfectly nice, but I was so preoccupied with worries over you, I couldn’t really give him my all.

Can you just write me back? I really miss you.

Xoxo,

Birdie

Dear Callum,

Hi?

I miss you. A month is too long to go without speaking. If you’re done being my friend, please just tell me so I don’t have to wonder.

BTW, I went out with Will one more time and told him I don’t see us going anywhere. I don’t think I’m in a place to give my heart to anyone now. Not when it’s already out of my hands.

Just let me know you’re alive, okay? Please?

Missing you,

Your Little Bird

Little Bird,

I’m sorry, I’m here.

I’m a dick, okay? I have no other explanation.

I don’t know what to say except I’m fucking glad you ditched that guy. What the fuck are you thinking going out with a guy who rubs his dick on you on the first date? You gotta wait for your shadow. That guy isn’t it. He isn’t it at all. You’re worth ten times more than that.

Don’t think for a second I don’t want to be your friend. You’re important to me. You keep me sane and connected to what’s real. I’ll try real fucking hard not to drop out of your life again. Promise me you won’t waste your time on half-baked dickfaces with stupid hair. I need that promise from you.

To answer your question, I don’t date. Don’t even know if I know how.

I missed you more than anything. Tell me you’re okay.

Callum