The Brightest Light of Sunshine

“Please tell me you’re not reading vampire porn at the bar.”

Gasping, I look up from the book hidden on my lap under the table just in time to see Cal sliding into our empty booth.

Aaron is somewhere with his friends, talking to a couple of guys they stumbled upon, and I wasn’t in the mood to meet new people, so I offered to guard our booth. Like a coward and all that.

My hand flies to my chest, making sure my breathing still works. “Holy hell, Cal.”

The little shit laughs and leans in until our arms are touching, not-so-subtly glancing down at the book I’m so desperately trying to hide. Thanks to my texts, he already knows Hunter and Cordelia have… done some stuff. Knowing him, though, he’d want to read the whole thing with his own eyes and then I’ll die.

“Why are you reading at the bar?” he asks.

“What about it?”

“The lighting sucks. You’re gonna hurt your sight.”

I arch an eyebrow. “Really? That’s the reason I shouldn’t read at a bar?”

He shrugs. “You do you. How many times have those two fucked yet?”

Oh my god. The word ‘fuck’ shouldn’t leave Cal’s lips like, ever. No, no, no.

Heat climbs up my cheeks. “Don’t say that.”

“Say what?”

“Fuck.”

“Why not?”

Yes, Grace, why the hell not? It’s not like you haven’t heard him curse before. Or have I?

I shake my head. “Forget it.” As I put the book away, his quick hand snatches it from my grip. “Hey! Don’t you dare—”

He dares.

Cal opens it on the page I was on and starts reading. Out loud. “The sight of Cordelia’s plump lips wrapped around the thick head of his cock sent a bolt of electricity through him. Gripping the back of her hair—”

“No. Nope. We’re not doing this.” I snatch the book back and the traitor breaks out in such a deep laughter I’m scared he’ll run out of air. “Dumbass.”

He continues laughing as he wraps an arm around my shoulders, pulling me into his side. “Damn, Grace, you really were reading straight-up erotica right here with a straight face. Wow.”

I roll my eyes and ignore the way my belly heats up by being so close to his warm, safe body. “Judge me all you want. I was getting bored, so I did what I had to do.”

He chuckles again. “Not judging. You’ve got balls for that, and I fucking love it.”

“Mm-hmm.”

Don’t freak out. Don’t freak out. Don’t freak out.

Too late, I’m freaking out.

Because he loves… what? That I’m antisocial enough to read smut in the middle of a crowded bar instead of hanging out with my cousin and his friends? I’m getting lightheaded.

“Where’s Aaron?” he asks, and I’m grateful for the change of topics.

I point to a couple of tables away. “Over there with some guys.”

He frowns. “How come you’re sitting here all alone, then?”

“I’d rather be here.” It’s the truth. I dislike big crowds in general, and although it’s not too bad anymore, the idea of being introduced to three more men tonight holds zero appeal to me. I’ve had enough with my cousin’s two friends, who definitely checked me out for longer than necessary when Aaron wasn’t looking. And I’m not even wearing anything exciting, jeez. My black jeans, go-to white sneakers, and pink jumper are nothing worth breaking necks for.

Luckily, Cal doesn’t ask any more questions. “I’m going to get a drink. Want anything?” I shake my head, and he leaves. I’ve still got some iced tea left in front of me, although it’s probably warm now.

When he comes back after exchanging a couple of words with Aaron and ordering a soft drink, he slides into the booth next to me again. I can’t help but frown at his drink of choice, recalling how he’d been having the same thing back when I pretended to get his number to amuse my friends. “You don’t drink alcohol?”

He shakes his head, a brief shadow of somberness passing his eyes. “No. Never have.”

“Are you serious?” I wasn’t expecting that. Even I have had alcohol before, and I’m not a huge fan.

“You sound outraged.” He smirks.

I blink. “No, no. Not that. I just… I don’t know, I wasn’t expecting it. Almost every guy your age drinks. Or has tried an alcoholic drink at some point.”

He attempts a casual shrug, but his shoulders are tense. “Never seen the appeal in hangovers, I guess.”

Nodding, I press my lips together. I don’t want to pry, but it’s starting to feel painful how little I know about Cal.

Sure, I’m aware of the basics—where he lives, that he has a sister he’s completely devoted to, and that he owns a tattoo shop he’s proud of. But that’s it. Granted, I haven’t exactly been an open book when it comes to my past, but I was hoping we would get there eventually. Maybe he doesn’t trust me as much as I thought he did. Maybe—

“My mother has issues with alcohol.”

I freeze. He’s looking right ahead, avoiding my gaze, and gripping his bottle so tightly I’m afraid it may shatter.

“They started before I was of legal age to drink, so when I turned twenty-one, I’d already seen what alcohol could do to a person and I didn’t want that for myself. I’m her son, and I was scared it was in my genes or something, so I never risked it.”

My throat clogs up, and I only get the words out by sheer determination. “How’s she doing now?”

He shrugs like none of this is a big deal. “It varies. I thought she was finally sobering up for good this year, but it’s not…” He clears his voice. “I’m not too hopeful.”

I don’t even think before I take his big paw of a hand and press it between my much smaller one, warming it up. I notice that he’s freezing. Huh. He’s usually a human heater.

“Has she ever asked for help?” I wonder out loud, my voice soft.

Cal shakes his head. “She doesn’t think she has that big of a problem, so no. She thinks rehab is for real alcoholics, and that she’s not one. Says going there would embarrass her.”

“I’m sorry,” I whisper, hoping he can hear me over the loud music. When he laces his fingers through mine, I know he has.

I want to ask him how he’s doing because of it. I want to ask him how it might be affecting Maddie, but I don’t want to be insensitive. It’s obvious he’s shared more than he probably feels comfortable with, and while I may be curious, I’m a good friend above all.

But then a thought crosses my mind, and my body freezes all over again.

Could it be… Could his mother’s problems have to do with the fact that Maddie has her own room in his apartment? Because her episodes get so bad he has to take his sister away?

God. If I don’t stop this train of thought now, I’ll end up bawling my eyes out right here. An urgent change of topics is due.

So still holding his hand tightly between mine, I tell him, “You know the thing I’ve been stressing over this week?” He nods, his shoulders visibly relaxing. “Well, it’s a final project for one of my classes and I have to write a freaking book. And yes, my mind is completely empty in case you were wondering.”

“Wait, that’s neat. You haven’t come up with anything yet?”

Over the next fifteen minutes, I tell him about my frustrated dream of becoming an author and how difficult it is to make it in the publishing industry. I tell him about the books I’ve written in the past and how much they sucked, hence why I’m so scared of screwing up this project too. He listens attentively, asking me a few questions and reassuring me time and again that I don’t suck even though he’s never read anything I’ve written.

It’s kind of cute.

“This is how I see it,” he starts as he puts his drink down. I breathe a little easier at how at ease he looks now, the conversation about his mom long forgotten. “I’m warning you it’s probably going to sound cheesy as hell.”

“Enlighten me.” I smirk at the thought of a cheesy Cal. His hand squeezes mine, and my next breath dies in my lungs.

“You’re still going to keep teaching at TDP after you graduate, yeah?” I nod. It’s a job I love and pays well. Adelaide already offered to give me more responsibilities once I can commit to a fuller schedule. She’s thinking of opening a second studio across town and everything. “Well, since you say making it as an author takes time, it’s good that you already have a stable source of income to support yourself while you get there. You can write in your spare time and sleep well at night knowing you’re working towards your dream while keeping a safety net beneath you.”

It makes a lot of sense. “I guess I’m just scared that I’ll never make it at all, you know? Trust me, many people want to become authors and most of them never get to publish anything. What if I’m one of them? And yes, fine, I write for myself because it helps me clear my head and gives me a purpose, but I can’t lie and say I don’t want people to read my work.”

He hums. “No, it makes sense. If you pour your heart and soul into something you’re proud of, you’d want to share it with the world.”

“Exactly.”

“This is how I see it, and here comes the cheesy part. You only get one life, and while I’m sure it’s gonna be a long one, I don’t want you to wake up one day in forty years regretting that you never were brave enough to write a damn book and try to publish it.”

Unconsciously, I tighten my grip on his hand as he keeps talking, “It’s true that you might never make it. It happens, but what if you do make it? What then?” He shakes his head. “You know how you’re one hundred percent never gonna make it? If you don’t write a book and pitch it. Your unfinished drafts won’t ever see the light if you don’t choke that impostor syndrome to death and finish that story. And if you try your best and still fail, at least one day you’ll die with no regrets.”

His words are something I’ve told myself time and again over the years, yet hearing them from him makes my chest feel lighter. A sudden rush of confidence in my future and inspiration to work on my dream explodes inside my body and I find myself a little choked up when I try to speak. “Thank you, Cal. You are…” Everything. “You’re a great friend.”

He gives me a small smile. “You’re a great friend too, sunshine. I’m sure you’ll figure this out with time, and you know I’m always here if you need to talk. I’m a good listener.”

“Thank you. I know. I’ll let you know if inspiration strikes.”

“When,” he corrects me.

“When,” I repeat, a small smile playing on my lips.

“Good.” He starts toying with my fingers, bending them into weird angles. “You think your professor will pass out if you turn in a smutty book?”

I’m the one about to pass out now. “What? I… No, I could never write that.”

“Why not? You read them.”

“It’s not the same thing as writing them.” My cheeks heat up. “I don’t think I’ll be good at it.” Not to mention that I don’t have any experiences to draw from, but that’s a conversation for another day. Maybe.

“You’re good at everything,” he says with such confidence I almost believe it.

I’m about to tell him that he couldn’t be more wrong as three tall figures appear in my line of vision. When I lift my head to look at Aaron, his eyes are already locked on Cal’s hand holding mine. To his credit, Cal doesn’t let go.

My little speech from earlier might have worked, because instead of threatening to cut off Cal’s arms if he doesn’t stop touching me right this second, my cousin takes a deep breath and focuses on me. “We were gonna hit the pool table. Wanna come?”

“Sure.”

We spend the next hour playing pool with my cousin and his two friends; one of them who at first I thought was quite nice and funny until he touched the small of my back when he absolutely didn’t have to as he walked behind me. I jolted, shaken up by the unwanted touch, and Cal was by my side a second later like a rabid beast waiting to strike. From the other side of the table Aaron glared at his friend.

Jeez.

They don’t say anything or make a scene, so technically I can’t get mad at them. Whatever.

Because it’s a weeknight, we decide to leave early and Aaron offers me a ride home. He doesn’t say it, but of course the only reason he’s so eager to jump into driving me is because he knows I’ll ride with Cal if he isn’t available. He only had one beer over an hour ago, so he’s fine to get behind the wheel and we take off.

Later that night after Em and I’s usual catch-up session, my phone lights up with a text.

Cal: Confession time. I’m more intrigued by that book of yours than I should be.

I grin at my screen like a total fool, glad that Emily’s focus is on her tablet and not me or she’ll be asking too many questions I don’t have answers for. Before I get the chance to unlock my phone and type a reply, a second text comes through.

Cal: I had a lot of fun tonight. You’re easy to talk to. I’m picking up Maddie from TDP, so I’ll see you tomorrow. Sleep well, sunshine.

Me: I had fun too. I’m 100% turning to you for motivational pep talks from now on, btw. It’s a threat.

Me: I’ll see you tomorrow. Sleep well, Sammy <3

Cal: I didn’t know people still sent hearts like that

Cal: <3