4 - Too Scared to Admit

My alarm clock went off at six in the morning, a shrill, piercing sound that felt like a drill entering my skull.

I reached out and slapped the snooze button with a level of aggression that probably would have broken a cheaper clock.

I stayed there for a long time, staring at the popcorn ceiling of the dorm room, trying to ignore the fact that I could hear Callum breathing just a few feet away.

The air in the room felt heavy, like the atmosphere right before a thunderstorm, charged with a tension that hadn't dissipated since he had invaded my space the night before.

I sat up and pushed my glasses up the bridge of my nose with one finger. I looked over at Callum. He was still asleep, sprawled across his bed with one arm hanging off the edge and his mouth slightly open.

In sleep, he looked almost human, his features softened and the hardness in his jaw relaxed. It was a lie, of course.

I knew that the second those blue eyes opened, the mask of the arrogant prick would slide back into place, and he would spend the day finding new ways to make me feel small.

I felt a traitorous pull in my chest, a ghost of the boy I had loved at fifteen, but I shoved it down. That boy had drowned in the Reid family pool years ago..

I stood up and moved toward my desk, my fingers immediately searching for my blue pen. I gripped it tightly, feeling the familiar plastic texture against my skin. I needed this pen to log my sets today.

If I didn't have it, or if I used a different color, the entire structure of my morning would feel skewed, like a puzzle piece forced into the wrong slot.

I started o rganizing my swim bag, trying to ignore the way Callum shifted in his sleep, a low groan escaping his throat.

"You're doing that thing again," Callum muttered. His voice was thick with sleep, a deep rasp that sent an unwanted shiver down my spine. He didn't open his eyes, but I could tell he was tracking my every movement through his eyelids.

"What thing?" I asked, my voice tight.

Callum opened one eye and looked at me.

He cracked his knuckles one by one, a slow, deliberate habit that always seemed to signal he was about to say something cruel. "The thing where you act like a nervous little bird. Fidgeting with your pen, folding your shoulders in as if you're trying to disappear into your own skin. It's pathetic, Leo. Do you think if you make yourself small enough, I'll just forget you're here?"

I clenched my jaw and turned away from him. "I'm just getting ready for practice, Callum. Some of us actually care about our training intervals instead of just relying on raw talent and a family name to get by."

Callum let out a short, mocking laugh and sat up. He wasn't wearing a shirt, and the muscles of his chest and stomach flexed as he stretched, his torso twisting with a fluid, athletic grace.

He looked powerful, a specimen of a sprint swimmer in his prime, and I hated how much I noticed the way the morning light hit the lean lines of his abdomen.

He chewed the inside of his cheek, his gaze scanning me with an intensity that felt like he was stripping me bare.

"Raw talent is what wins races, Hayes," Callum said, his voice dropping to that low, dangerous growl. "And let's be honest. You've always been a follower. You follow the rules, you follow the coaches, you follow the crowd. You're so terrified of stepping out of line that you've turned yourself into a ghost."

"I'm not a ghost !" I snapped, finally looking at him. "I'm just not an asshole who thinks the world revolves around him because his father owns half the zip code."

Callum smirked. He stood up and stepped closer to me, invading my personal space until I could smell the faint scent of mint and expensive soap.

He towered over me, forcing me to tilt my head back to meet his eyes. "You can call me whatever you want, but we both know you're still thinking about that kiss from six years ago. You're thinking about how it felt when I finally touched you. You're probably wondering if you'll ever get that feeling back, or if you're too scared to even admit you like men."

I felt the heat rush to my face, a deep red flush that I knew was visible even in the dim light of the room. I stepped back, my heel hitting the leg of my desk with a sharp click. "I don't know what you're talking about."