13

CALLUM

“Of course,” I mutter under my breath as I look up at the house in front of me, my navigation app confirming that I’ve reached my destination. I mean, it comes as no surprise that Nessa’s family home is picture perfect, but the literal white picket fence out front is a little over the top. Everything about the setting screams that a happy family resides here, and even from my spot at the curb, I feel uncomfortably out of place; like my mere presence will somehow darken the vibe.

I curl my fingers around the leather steering wheel of Levi’s truck- my borrowed ride for the evening- and look expectantly toward the front door as it swings open and Nessa steps out. I swear, every time I see this fuckin’ girl, it’s like the first time. She’s effortlessly gorgeous, the wintry breeze catching strands of her glossy dark hair like she’s a model on a photoshoot. She smooths it away from her face with a hand and starts down the front walk, my eyes lingering on the exposed skin of her bro