I want to tell him I’m hurt that he hasn’t even checked in on me but decide against that as well. Emotion clogs my throat. I’m unable to swallow it down, instead my eyes filling with disappointed tears.

Tap. Tap. Tap.

A strangled cry of surprise claws its way out of my throat. My heart goes from painfully throbbing to thundering inside my chest. I rub my eyes with the heels of my hands and then walk over to the window. When I draw the curtain, I find Callum, once again dressed in a black hoodie and jeans. I lift the window and manage a croaked “hello.”

“What’s wrong?” he demands, his voice a soft whisper that I feel in every nerve ending.

I chew on my bottom lip, feeling ridiculous. I’m definitely an idiot. Still, the tears are close and it’s taking everything in me to keep them at bay. Callum clearly grows tired of my silence because he takes it upon himself to climb into my bedroom.

Callum Park is in my bedroom.

Holy crap.

He shuts the window behind him and closes the curtain. Then, he steps toward me, crowding my space. “You’re upset. What happened?”

Guilt surges through me.

Here he is thinking I’m upset over my home life, and really, I’m just pining over him.

“I’m fine. I promise.” I still can’t look at him. “Callum, I swear.”

His fingers bite into my jaw, not as gently as usual. I can smell the faint aroma of liquor on his breath. It makes my mouth water. I wonder if he tastes as heady as he smells.

“Look at me,” he commands. “I said, look at me.”

My eyes snap to his, becoming trapped in his intense stare. “I said I’m fine.”

“You’re lying. Don’t lie to me, pretty girl. I can always tell.”

I attempt to kiss him, hoping to distract him, but he slides a hand into my hair and grips a handful. The sharp sting on my scalp makes my eyes water for a different reason.

“Tell me,” he croons. “You’re supposed to be my good girl. Good girls don’t evade the truth.”

I do want to be good for him.

I want to fix this rawness I’m feeling. This hurt. Even if it is all in my head. I trust he’ll do it for me.

“I thought you forgot about me,” I whisper, tears flooding my lids and blurring him. “Or…”

He presses his lips to my cheek, stopping a tear from its fall. His tongue lashes out, licking the salty wetness away. “Or what?”

“Or that maybe you’d changed your mind.”

“I keep my promises,” he growls. “Understand?”

“Y-Yes.”

“I’m upset you gave up on me so quickly.”

More tears roll out. “I’m sorry.”

“It pisses me off, Willa.”

Not sweetheart.

Willa.