One Night with Calvin (One Night Series Book 2) Read online

  “It’s eight o’clock in the morning.”

  “I’m failing to see the problem.”

  “Thanks, but I think I’m just going to wallow in my room for a bit.”

  “What happened?”

  “Reece said if I didn’t leave him, she’d take their kid away from Cole.”

  Fucking bitch. “Want me to burn her house down?”

  She laughed through her sniffles. “You mean my house? How did this whole thing get so fucked up?”

  Because fate clearly has a sense of humour … just at our expense. I didn’t say that aloud to her. She didn’t need that right now. There was silence for about a minute, and I knew she was shutting down. I wasn’t going to get anything else out of her.

  “Call me if you need anything, okay?”

  “Will do. Talk soon.” She didn’t wait for me to respond before she ended the call.

  I was really hoping Cole was different. Even with his issues, I’d never seen Paige glow like she did when she was around him or talking about him.

  But at least with them broken up, I’d never have to see Ryan again.

  Hooray for being a selfish bitch, Sara.

  I sighed and pulled up my messages again and did the polite thing. Why? Because clearly, I was a masochist.

  Sara:

  Thnx for the heads up

  The phone started vibrating with an incoming call seconds later.

  “Thought you weren’t doing the stalkery thing this morning,” I said into the phone. Why did I answer?

  I had absolutely no control when it came to Ryan.

  “How’s she doing?” His voice was smooth. I hated that.

  “Did you really call to talk to me about Paige and Cole?”

  “Yes.”

  Why does he care? I didn’t get the chance to ask before he started talking again.

  “I consider Paige a friend, and I don’t like that she got hurt because of Cole and Reece and their fucked-up drama. I’ve been dealing with their shit since we were teenagers. I always liked Paige, and I want to make sure she’s okay.”

  Well, fuck. He had to go and be a nice guy, didn’t he.

  “She didn’t sound too good, but I know her, and she tends to deal with this type of stuff on her own. When she needs me, she’ll ask. It’s how it’s always been between us.”

  “How long have you guys been friends?”

  “Three years. We met the first day of law school.”

  “Huh. I thought you guys must’ve been childhood friends or something. You seem pretty close.”

  “It was an insta-BFF moment.” And now you sound like a teenager.

  “Love at first sight, hey?” His tone dropped lower, and even though it was said in a playful manner, I couldn’t help wondering if he was hinting at something else.

  I swallowed hard. “Totes.” Kill. Me. Now. Could I be anymore awkward?

  He chuckled. “So, you’re still saying that annoying word.”

  He had a point. When “totes” became a thing, I’d say it in jest. What started as ridiculing the crap out of people who used it became addictive. Then it was suddenly a part of my vocabulary, and I didn’t even notice when I said it anymore. It was a hard habit to break, but I was trying.

  “You’re still calling me babe, so, yup.”

  “You want me to stop?”

  “Calling me babe, or calling in general?”

  “Oooh, harsh.” He was loving this conversation. People say you can hear when a person is smiling on the other end of the phone. If that were true, I’d bet a hundred bucks Ryan was grinning like a Cheshire cat.

  “Umm … I should go. I need to run some errands before Paige calls me back and summons me to get drunk off our asses.”

  “That sounds dangerous,” he mocked. “When things settle down with them, do you think we could get together for coffee?”

  “I don’t drink coffee,” I lied, while simultaneously staring at my warmed-up coffeemaker that was begging me to make my morning cup.

  “You know what I mean. I’m asking you out.”

  I winced. Everything inside me was screaming to say yes, but my brain wouldn’t allow it. I didn’t know what to say.

  “I guess complete silence is better than a big fat no,” he said with a small laugh. “I’ll take that as a maybe for now. I hope to see you soon, Sara.”

  He hung up before I could find words.

  ***

  Ryan:

  Reason #8 you should go out with me:

  If things go well, we already have matching couple tattoos

  Two messages per day, four days in a row. All the same thing—a reason why I should go out with him. I’d managed to stave off replying, but this one was too hard to resist.

  Sara:

  I had mine removed.

  Ryan:

  I’ll need proof of that.

  I threw my phone on the couch beside me, lesson learned. No more replying. Ever. My phone dinged again, and I hated that I couldn’t resist looking.

  Ryan:

  A photo with your top off would suffice but in person would be more thorough.

  And now I’m smiling. Dammit!

  Don’t respond, don’t respond, don’t respond.

  Sara:

  Are you trying to sext me? Not cool, yo.

  Good listening to your conscience.

  Ryan:

  Too far?

  A knock at the door scared the crap out me. It was Wednesday night. Late. Who the hell is at my door?

  Sara:

  You’re not being super creepy right now and knocking on my door, are you?

  As I hit send, a voice came through the door. “Sara?” It wasn’t Hunter. It had too much of a Texan twang to be Hunter.

  Fuck, no. Not now.

  Scrambling to the door, I flung it open, hoping I was going to be met with a serial killer and not another blast from my past. I wasn’t that lucky.

  Standing before me, looking exactly like he did two years ago, was Danny Minor. His muscled football arm was resting against the doorjamb, and he looked a hell of a lot calmer and relaxed than I did.

  He stood straighter. “Hey.”

  My phone dinged from the couch with Ryan’s reply, but I didn’t go to check it. The absurdity of the moment didn’t let me. I hadn’t seen either one for years, and now both came back into my life within a week of each other.

  Anger surged inside me, and I lost control of my mouth. “Fucking hell. Tell the ghost of boyfriends past to fuck off when you see him, okay?”

  The last thing I saw was his confused expression before I shut the door in his face.

  Extreme? Maybe. But first Ryan, and now Danny? Tilting my head towards the roof, I let out a quiet whisper. “What are you doing to me, universe?” I wondered if it was fate overcompensating for all those times I told Paige I was jealous of her and Cole. Then again, look where they are now.

  Danny knocked again. “Sara?”

  “Totes not answering that,” I yelled.

  “Sara, please? We need to talk.”

  I opened the door and scowled at him. “If it’s to tell me you have an STD and you’re doing the responsible thing and telling everyone you’ve slept with, then fine. Thanks for the heads up, I’ll be sure to go and get tested. Other than that, I can’t fathom why you’d be here after two years of radio silence.” I actually already got tested after he left. It was possible I had an overreaction to being dumped without so much as a goodbye, and we’d been impulsive during our two-week romp—sometimes using condoms, sometimes not. I may have had a mini panic attack and demanded my doctor do a screening for every STD known to man.

  Danny laughed as he ran his hand through his hair. “No STDs. Promise. And if I recall correctly, you’re the one who shut me out on Facebook.”

  I grunted. “Then I think we’re done here.” I went to shut the door, but his foot stopped it from closing.

  “I’m home for the US summer break. I’ve got two months to get you to let me in.�
� He removed his foot from the doorway and left.

  When I stumbled back to the couch, still in shock, I sat on top of my now ringing phone.

  “Uh … yeah?” I said, without checking who it was.

  “I was just checking up on you.” Hunter’s sexy voice filled my ears, bringing me out of my daze. “You didn’t reply. Thought there might’ve been a serial killer at the door or something. Maybe you need me to come protect you.”

  I laughed a silent, breathy laugh. “Nah, it was no one.”

  “No one?”

  “Yeah, no one. Thanks for checking up on me, though. But I should go …”

  His voice dropped an octave. “You really think that’s the reason I called? I’ve been texting for four days and finally got a response. The mystery person at your door was just an excuse for me to hit dial.”

  “Umm … Uh …”

  “How’s Paige doing?”

  I was thankful he asked something I could respond to. “She’s coming to classes, which is good, even if she’s been wearing the same sweats for the last three days.”

  “I bet she’s not smelling too good.”

  “I’m pretty sure she’s showering in deodorant. Or maybe baby wipes. She still smells like herself.”

  “Like strawberry and vanilla? I swear Cole’s room still smells like her. I get a whiff of Paige every time I walk past.”

  “How’s he handling it?”

  He hesitated before answering. “He’s sober. That’s something.”

  “Paige gave the impression his drinking wasn’t a problem?”

  “It’s … uh … complicated. Anyway, I’m glad she’s hanging in there. There’s always been something about her. It’s going to sound totally lame, but I was drawn to her the moment I met her. I should totally be Team Cole, right? But I can’t help thinking about how sucky this is for Paige and that she deserves better.”

  An inexplicable burn started in the pit of my belly. I recognised it as jealousy—something I’d only ever experienced once before; seeing Ryan suck face with that blonde skank the night after we met.

  No, she wasn’t the skank, he was. And encouraging him by replying to his texts had made me forget all about that fact for a fraction of a second. I had to stop what I was doing.

  “I gotta go,” I said abruptly and hung up the phone.

  7

  - HUNTER -

  The good news: Sara was totally jealous, which meant I had a chance.

  The bad news: She took what I said about Paige completely wrong.

  When Paige came stumbling out of Cole’s room one morning almost two months ago, I knew she was different. There was this pull about her that made me offer her a cup of coffee instead of showing her the door like all of Cole’s other conquests. Perhaps it was the fact she was a fumbling mess—that it was obvious she didn’t do the one-night stand thing often. In our two-minute conversation, I knew she wasn’t like the other girls coming and going from our apartment.

  I felt like an asshole because I thought I had a crush on Paige for all of five minutes before I realised I wanted her to be with Cole. He needed someone like her. I figured I was drawn to her because I wanted Cole to have something go right in his life for once. When she brought Sara back to me, I began to wonder if I was drawn to her for other reasons: kismet, fate.

  I wanted to call Sara back and explain all that, but I knew that wouldn’t be smart. She would think I was insane. It took four days to get a response to any of my messages, and with one phone call, I was pretty sure it’d be another four days before she responded again, if at all. This couldn’t be rushed. I had to be patient, which meant I had to learn to have patience. Waiting for something I wanted wasn’t exactly my strong suit—not when I had everything practically handed to me since I was a kid. If I wanted something, I went for it, and I got it. And right now, all I could think about was Sara.

  It was probably a good thing I had a busy schedule over the following two weeks with Sydney Fashion Week. I’d have something else to focus all my energy on. I hated leaving Cole alone—especially with the Paige situation still fresh—but I couldn’t blow off work. Being under contract, unless I was dying or had a broken leg, I had to be on that runway. Personally, I preferred print to runway, but the exposure of Fashion Week was always too good to pass up.

  I was so close to my goal. There was a reason I had a roommate in a small, cheapish apartment. I was saving for my future. Well, that, and Cole couldn’t afford much on his salary. He refused to let me pay more than half the rent, which was why we chose the cheapest three-bedroom, two-bathroom place we could find. It wasn’t much, but we both liked it there.

  Pulling up the latest update email from my management team on my phone, I double-checked my flight details for the following day.

  Yup, two weeks where I couldn’t be tempted into showing up on Sara’s doorstep was exactly what I needed.

  ***

  My brother, Garrett, picked me up at the airport. He’d been living in Sydney for a year. He moved from Queensland because of a promotion with his marketing firm, but he didn’t take into account that living expenses in Sydney were so much higher than where we were from. So he pulled up in his piece of crap Nissan Pulsar that was over fifteen years old.

  “Hey, little brother,” he said when I climbed into his passenger seat.

  “Thought you were buying a new car? I seriously can’t believe this one made it down to Sydney, let alone lasted another year.” As the words left my mouth, the whole car shuddered.

  “Shh, you’ll hurt Whore’s feelings.” He rubbed the dashboard in a soothing manner.

  “Whore?”

  “Yeah, coz I treat her like a hooker. I drive her hard and fast.”

  I shook my head. “That’s horrible.”

  “Nah, it’s an awesome name for a car. It’s good for yelling out things like, ‘Fucking Whore, don’t stop now!’”

  I snorted. “Wow. I have not missed you at all, bro.”

  He grinned. “Liar. We hitting the city tonight, or what?”

  “It’s probably not a good idea. I need to be at work at eight in the morning.”

  “So we’ll go out early, come home early, and you can kick the girls out on your way to work. Perfect.”

  “Nah-uh, no pussy for me tonight.”

  “It’s finally happened. You got the clap, didn’t you?”

  “No. I’m just not interested in a hook-up.”

  His brow furrowed. “Who the fuck are you and where is my brother?”

  I laughed. “Maybe I’m growing up?”

  “Nope. That can’t be it.”

  “Can you just drive, please?”

  “Not until you tell me what’s wrong.”

  I threw my head back on the headrest. “You remember four years ago when I picked you up from the drunk tank?”

  “Which time?”

  “Good point, but I’m talking about the night I got my tattoo.”

  “Ah, and the girl with the magical vagina,” he taunted.

  Fuck, was I really that much of an asshole back then? “Yeah. Well, I ran into her again, and I’m determined to not fuck it up this time.”

  He groaned and pulled out into traffic. “And another one bites the dust.”

  “Huh?”

  “I’m like one of the last single guys I know.”

  “Move back and hang out with my friends. We’re all single … well, Cole’s divorced but that still counts. Then again, we’re also four years younger than you. Maybe you really should start thinking about settling down.”

  “Fuck you, you sound like Mum.” After that, he finally shut up.

  Speaking of my friends made me remember to text Spence to get him to check in on Cole while I was gone. I was sure Cole wouldn’t appreciate it, but I wanted to make sure he wasn’t going to fall off the wagon.

  Hunter:

  Can u check on C while I’m in Sydney?

  Spencer:

  Can’t, bro. Busy. Maybe ask Blair.
<
br />   Hunter:

  WTF u busy with?

  Spencer:

  Stuff ok. Besides, it’s not a good idea for me to see Cole. GTG have fun in Syd

  Hunter:

  Y would it be a bad idea?

  He didn’t respond. I had no idea what he was talking about. Maybe they had a fight and hadn’t told me.

  “So you and this girl … is it serious?” Garrett asked, distracting me from trying to work out what was up with Spence.

  “She hasn’t even agreed to go out with me yet.”

  He laughed. “But you just said—”

  “Turns out she didn’t blow me off four years ago like we thought. She did, however, see me with another girl the next night. So I’m not going to do anything to piss her off more than she’s already pissed at me. If she’s going to give me a chance, I have to make her trust me.”

  “That sounds like a lot of work for some pussy. I don’t care how magical it is.”

  I wanted to tell him that she was so much more than that, but he wouldn’t understand. “What can I say, I like a challenge.”

  “I give it two months of celibacy before you break.”

  I give it two months before I’m back inside Sara. I didn’t say that aloud. Knowing Garrett, he’d want to turn it into an actual bet.

  ***

  I’d forgotten how crazy Fashion Week was and how much partying went on. Most nights I found myself sitting in the corner at the events, checking my phone to see if Sara had responded to any of my texts. She didn’t reply when I complained that Sydney was cold. She didn’t reply a few days later when I joked about her getting her hopes up that I’d forgotten her seeing as I hadn’t messaged in a while. And each time I sent a new one, I’d cringe at myself. No one had ever made me work so hard for attention, and I was worried I was blurring that line between charming and annoying. But I couldn’t help myself.

  “Who are you texting?” Georgie asked, sitting next to me on a plush couch in the corner of a nightclub. She was the designer who’d hired me for this gig. She wasn’t a known name yet, but according to my management, she was the next Alex Perry … but the chick version. And for menswear, not women’s fashion … okay, so she was the next opposite of Alex Perry. “Your boyfriend?”