Tale of Life (Essence Series #2) (15 page)

Weston tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “Okay.”

“We’ve been thinking about my father’s connection for a long time now and we’ve researched an explanation,” he said. “My father wasn’t working for the Hara-Kirs—
but against them
.”

“And your proof?” she asked.

Calloway couldn’t tell her about the note his father left, commanding him to protect the Kirin Book, and he couldn’t mention his ownership of the Grandiose Historian Library because it’s connection with the portal. And he definitely couldn’t mention that his father may still be alive. When he thought about it, he realized that he didn’t have proof—
at all
. “My father was killed because he worked against the Hara-Kirs and they think that I’m finishing his work because I carry the orb he stole—plus I look like him.”

“What is your proof?” she repeated. Her eyes were wide with interest, hoping he had something to clear him of his involvement with the enemy. “You just have guesses. I can’t use this to defend you. I wish you had something more.”

Calloway sighed. “Isn’t my heart enough?” he asked desperately. “You know me better than anyone, Weston—I can’t explain it. You would know if I was malicious or evil—you would have seen it from the beginning.” He grabbed her hand and placed it over his heart. “Please tell me that you believe me—I need to know you do.”

“It doesn’t change anything,” she whispered.

“I know,” he said. “And I completely understand your position, but I need to know how
you
feel. Please?”

Weston ran her fingers through her hair and a strand fell across her face, lingering on her cheek. Calloway wanted to tuck it behind her ear but he controlled himself, bottling the feelings he had for her. She stared at him for a moment, saying nothing, and Calloway could see the internal struggle raging inside her. Trust was not something Weston gave without reason and she had every right to distrust him, but Calloway hoped she would look past the facts and see Calloway for who he was—a good person. Calloway would never betray her or their cause. He knew she realized that—
he knew
. “Of course I do, Calloway,” she whispered. “I do.”

Prom

Calloway returned the ridiculously expensive suit to the store, getting back the fortune he paid for it, and rented the same one he wore to formal, which looked identical to the suit Beatrice coerced him into purchasing. When he put in on he felt confident once again. The depression still squeezed his heart painfully, numbing him until he felt completely empty. He somehow felt worse than before he and Beatrice got together. It was so agonizing and such a waste of time, that Calloway regretted ever dating her. His first kiss had been a waste—he wished he could take it back.

Hawk returned to torturing him, while Beatrice did nothing to intervene, and McDonald’s gift cards started to reappear on his disk, humiliating him in every class. But Calloway was too hurt and broken; he didn’t bother to retaliate. Every time a pencil was thrown at his head he didn’t flinch, and every time Hawk yelled at him he didn’t listen, concentrating on the sound of his broken heart, beating slowly.

Now prom had arrived and he had no interest in going. He didn’t want to see Beatrice with Hawk, which he already witnessed every day. He didn’t want to pretend that he was happy when in reality he was dying on the inside, struck down with the weight of his grief. The past few months were joyful and full of bliss, but now his days were filled with melancholy and pain. The betrayal made him question everything about his relationship with Beatrice—was any of it real?

His friends never mocked him for it. In fact, they didn’t mention her, which he was thankful for, and they were supportive in every way. Without them, Calloway wasn’t sure what he would do. Weston’s words had made him feel better—that Beatrice was an idiot for leaving him. The only highlight of his evening was spending it with Weston, his favorite person in the world. Even though he had to bottle every feeling he had for her, wishing that she saw him more than just a friend, there was no one else he would rather go with. He knew she would never reciprocate his emotions, so he caged those feelings, locking them away and pushing them to the back of his mind. He hadn’t let himself think about her the past few months, trying to forget about her and the way she made him feel. Calloway constantly reminded himself of the facts. Even if she trusted him, and he wasn’t younger than her, she still wouldn’t be interested in him. It was just a dream—nothing more.

Calloway stared at the mirror for a long time until the doorbell rang. He fixed his hair one more time and straightened his suit before he walked downstairs and reached the parlor. Breccan was already standing there with the corsage held in his hand, waiting for Easton, his date, to walk through the door. Calloway sincerely hoped Breccan would get it right this time.

When Weston walked through the door, he wasn’t ready to take in her astounding appearance. He tried to appear calm and indifferent but his attempts failed miserably. She was the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen. He felt his jaw drop at the sight of her and his hands start to sweat. The corsage almost slipped from his fingers.

The deep purple gown she wore reached down to her thighs, exposing her tan, thin legs, and the dress stopped at her chest, revealing her slender arms and rounded shoulders. The brown locks were pulled from her face in an up-do, revealing the slender curves of her neck. Calloway thought she looked beautiful in jeans and a plain shirt, even in a gorilla costume, but she looked extraordinary now—perfect. A gold chain hung around her neck with a circular pendant, marked with an anchor, and it highlighted the color of her flawless skin. Calloway’s mouth went dry when he looked at her—he was speechless. There were no words to describe how she looked.

Weston stopped when she reached him. “So, do you like it?” she said as she spun in a circle, smiling like a ballerina.

Calloway cleared his throat. “You look—marvelous,” he said. “A more beautiful sight I’ve never seen.”

Weston smiled at him. “Thank you. And you look very handsome, Calloway. That suit looks exceptional on you.”

“Even though it’s rented?”
He smiled.

“It looks even better.”

Calloway slipped the corsage onto her wrist and felt the smooth skin under his fingers. It was soft like the flesh of a ripe fruit, vibrant and plush, and his hands lingered on her arm for a moment before he released his hold. The electricity that coursed through his body made him shiver involuntarily. He wondered if she felt it, too.

When Easton walked through the door, Calloway turned toward her and smiled. She wore a yellow dress, bright like the sun, and it contrasted against her skin perfectly. Her hair had been styled in curls and it fell around her shoulders in a luscious bounce. She looked beautiful like her sister, elegant and graceful, and Calloway noticed her immediately. Breccan stepped toward her and everyone held their breath, including Aunt Grace and Uncle Scott, wondering what he would say next.

“I’m glad I have a hot date,” Breccan said, staring at her with an approved expression. His eyes lit up while he slid the corsage onto her wrist.

Calloway rolled his eyes, wishing his cousin would say something more appropriate and complimentary.

“And I’m honored that you finally agreed to go with me,” Breccan added.

Easton smiled at him. “Was that so hard?”

Breccan shrugged. “I guess not,” he said. “It’s a lot easier when you look stunning.”

“Thank you,” Easton said, blushing bright red.

Aunt Grace emerged from the corner, the tears glistening in her eyes. “Now it’s time for pictures!”

Breccan grabbed Easton’s hand and pulled her out the door. “Run!”

“Wait,” Aunt Grace said as she ran after them. “Just one! It’s your prom!”

Calloway extended his arm to Weston. “Are you ready to go?”

“Yes,” she said as she took his arm.

They walked out of the house and approached Easton’s car in the driveway. Aunt Grace was trying to take pictures of Breccan and Easton while they jumped inside the car.

She sighed in frustration. “Just take one!”

Calloway tapped his aunt on the shoulder. “Would you take a picture of us?”

Aunt Grace practically clicked her heels. “Of course,” she said excitedly. She held up the camera and aimed the lens at their faces.

Weston wrapped her arm around Calloway’s waist and leaned her head on his shoulder, and Calloway’s reciprocated her affection. The flash blinded their eyes and they dropped their pose.

“Let me take another,” Aunt Grace said.

Breccan opened the car door. “Quick! Get in!”

Calloway grabbed Weston by the hand and they ran to the car, laughing hysterically while Aunt Grace chased them like a paparazzi, taking random pictures of their pursuit. When they were inside the car, the flash of the camera continued to blind them.

“Leave them alone!” Uncle Scott said.

“Hit it,” Breccan said. “Before my mom has a chance to reload.”

Easton pulled out of the driveway and sped down the street, running away from Aunt Grace and her camera, and the laughed until they reached the end of the street.

“I’m so glad that we’ll never have to deal with that again,” Breccan said as he leaned back in his chair.

“Well, what about graduation?” Eason asked.

Breccan was quiet for a moment. “Damn.”

Easton laughed. “I think it’s cute.”

“And I think it’s annoying—
as hell
.”

“I love your mom and you should, too,” Easton said.

“She’s alright,” he said. Easton elbowed him in the gut, making him moan in discomfort. “Fine! I love my mommy. There!”

Weston laughed then moved closer to Calloway in the back seat. Her legs were crossed and Calloway felt them brush against his thigh, sliding past his pant leg. Then she grabbed his hand. She was so close to him that he could feel her breaths fall on his cheek—he wasn’t sure what was happening.

The feel of her hand in his felt right—perfect—and he caressed her fingertips with his own, feeling the plain ring on her finger. The unexpected affection confused him—immensely—she claimed they couldn’t be associated together but now she was holding his hand. Beatrice was nowhere in sight so the affection was unnecessary, although he enjoyed it. Sometimes he wondered if she did have feelings for him—felt the same way he did—but then he dismissed the idea. She was a classic heartbreaker that flirted with men until they fell for her, only to reject their feelings as soon as they expressed them. Since this was the last night he would see Weston he decided to make the best of it. Calloway wrapped his arm around her shoulder and held her close to him, taking in the natural scent on her skin, which reminded him of honey and vanilla. His hand still held hers as they drove to the campus down the road.

“Thank you for coming with me,” he whispered into her ear.

“And thank you for asking me.” She smiled. “I like having a reason to dress up.”

“You could dress up while you cook,” he suggested. “That would a marvelous sight.”

“That’s an interesting suggestion,” she said. “I’ll think about it. But I’ll probably have to wear an apron over my gown—I can be messy.”

“You’ll still look classy.”

“Well, of course.” She smiled. “I always look classy.”

Calloway laughed. He admired her confidence, especially since she never sounded arrogant or conceited, just sure of herself. Most women were full of self-doubt and uncertainty but not Weston—she knew how special she was. The sorrow that had been plaguing him for days disappeared the moment they were together. The touch of her hand kept the pain away, and the sound of her voice, light and merry, made him feel at ease. It reminded him of her home lit in the flames of candlelight, calm and subdued. Weston was his safe haven from the world. Calloway wondered if she knew that.

When he looked in the rearview mirror, he saw Easton watching them closely, and he knew he would be interrogated later about their unnatural affection. Calloway knew it was odd, inexplicable, but he didn’t question it—he wanted to be close to her.

The campus came into sight when they entered the parking lot. The music in the auditorium could be heard at a distance, even through the windows of the car. When they climbed out of the vehicle Calloway turned to Weston.

“Do you need my jacket?” he asked. It wasn’t very cold. In fact, he felt a little warm, but he wanted to ask anyway—just to be sure.

“No,” she smiled. “But thank you.”

They walked to the entrance and Weston grabbed his hand again, holding it tightly in her own. The length of her hand fit within his perfectly. Her fingers were small and thin, sliding through his with ease.

Breccan didn’t touch Easton as they approached the prom. They stayed a few feet away from each other, almost like they despised one another, but Calloway didn’t dwell on it. They never made any sense. But then again, neither did him and Weston. Since Calloway just experienced a breakup, Weston probably assumed that the affection meant nothing on his part—she couldn’t be more wrong.

There were balloons and streamers across the room and students were already dancing in the middle of the floor, swaying to the upbeat music. A table laden with sweets and snacks was tucked in the back, along with punch, soda, and water. Calloway looked for Beatrice in the crowd but didn’t see her. He wasn’t sure why he was searching—he didn’t want to look at her.