Close to Me (The Callahans, #1)
Monica Murphy
Prologue
There are significant moments in life, ones you can’t help but keep tucked into your memory banks. Even if you don’t want them, they’re in there. Lingering. Reappearing when you don’t want to remember. Making themselves known during a particular time, almost as if to say, “Ha, told you so.”
Those are the worst.
Mostly, when I look back on those times, I think, That’s where it all changed.
I’ve had moments like that with one person in particular. I didn’t want him in my life, though he was always there. I ignored him, which wasn’t easy considering the small school we both attend. Pretending someone doesn’t exist doesn’t mean they’re invisible, though.
I still saw him. How could I not?
And it doesn’t mean I was invisible either. He still saw me.
He saw right through me.
Freshman Year
One
I met him the first week of school.
I was mad.
Pissed at my parents. Pissed at the world.
A fourteen-year-old girl with a grudge and a fuck-you attitude is the worst thing ever. Trust me.
But deep down, I was alone and sad and I had no friends. We moved to this small, nowhere town the summer after eighth grade, and the resentment built within me, slowly but surely, with every day that passed. I felt it grow, until it threatened to choke me, consume me by the first day of school.
I show up on campus, no one paying any attention to me, and that hurt. The high school was small, cliquey. Most everyone had gone to school with each other since the dawn of time, and I was an outsider. After being there for a couple of days, I could tell they weren’t really interested in me.
Except for one.
I’m waiting for my mom to pick me up after school when I hear someone speak.
“What’s your name?”
Those were the first words he said to me. This boy is older, I can tell. A junior, I think. Cocky, confident, hot. During lunch, everyone called him JT and I heard someone mention he was the quarterback of the varsity football team. That should’ve been my first clue, but at the time, I was clueless.
All I cared about was that he actually spoke to me.
“Um.” I stand up a little taller, tossing my hair behind my shoulder with a careless flick of my fingers. “Autumn.”
He smiles, revealing bright white teeth. “Well, Um Autumn, it’s nice to meet you. I’m JT.”
When he extends his hand out toward me, I stare at it stupidly for a moment, not sure of what to do next. Dumb, right?
“Hi.” I finally take his hand and shake it, a little too enthusiastically.
The moment he releases my hand he takes a step back, slipping his hands in the front pockets of his jeans. He’s tall and lanky and has dirty blond hair and blue eyes. He’s the most popular boy in school and no one had to tell me that.
I just knew.
“Maybe we could hang out sometime,” he says with a shrug and a little smile, like no big deal.
This is a huge deal. Maybe not to him, but definitely to me.
“Um, sure.” I nod, shocked and pleased he would say such a thing.
“We should talk on Snap,” he continues.
My parents won’t let me have Snapchat. Dad says I’m too young, but he’s so overprotective, it’s ridiculous. Mom thinks he’s being too strict, and I agree with her.
“I don’t have Snap,” I admit, feeling like a little girl when I see the surprise etched all over JT’s face.
“You should get it. Let me know when you do.” He smiles and starts walking. “Bye, Um Autumn.”
“Bye,” I call, watching him leave. A sigh escapes me once he rounds the building and disappears, and that’s when I hear someone laugh.
A boy.
Glancing over my shoulder, I glare at the guy who’s sitting on the cement bench, head tilted to the side as he contemplates me, hair dark as coal falling over his forehead, covering one eye. I don’t recognize him, but that’s no surprise considering I’ve been at this school for only three days.
“You really think Jonah Taylor wants to hang out with you?” he asks, as if he had been listening in on our entire conversation.
I’m instantly pissed. A constant mood for me lately, yet I’m still not quite used to it. I’ve always been the good girl, and I definitely don’t tell people how I really feel.
Turning to face him, I rest my hands on my hips. “Who the hell are you?”
My outburst surprises me, but I remain cool. Anger is power, I remind myself.
Besides, I have nothing to lose.
“I’m your new best friend who’s going to tell it to you straight.” He leans back against the bench, flicking his hair out of his eyes.
“I don’t need a new best friend.” I sound sulky, and maybe I’m feeling that way too. I didn’t want this guy to burst my JT-induced happy bubble.
“Then let me offer up a word of advice.” He hesitates for barely a second. “Jonah Taylor could give two shits about you.”
“Gee, thanks,” I say sarcastically.
He shrugs. “Just trying to keep it real.”
“Are you friends with him?” Doubtful.
The boy snorts. “Not really.”
I knew it. “If you’re not friends with JT, then I really don’t think you should be offering me any advice about him.” I turn away from the jerk, eager to head for the pickup/drop off line where Mom is most likely waiting for me, when he says something that stops me dead in my tracks.
“They made a bet about you. The whole varsity football team. Whoever’s the first one to get a pussy shot from you on Snap or Insta or whatever wins one hundred bucks.”
Say what? Slowly, I look at him over my shoulder once more. “What did you just say?”
Another shrug. He doesn’t bother looking at me. Instead, he pulls a matchbook out of the ratty backpack sitting next to him, tearing a single match out before he runs the red tip across the roughened cement side of the bench. The match catches fire, and he brings the flame to his face, his eyes narrowing as he studies the orange glow. He’s holding the match so close, I’m afraid he might burn himself if he doesn’t watch it.
I’m starting to think he’s a complete idiot.
“They know who your dad is,” he offers casually, still not looking at me.
Unease slithers down my spine. This means the boy knows who my dad is, too, and I hate that. No matter where I go, I can’t get away from the fact that my father is retired NFL superstar Drew Callahan.
Sometimes it’s really annoying.
“Do you know who he is?”
The boy nods, remaining silent.
“Are you in on this pussy shot bet?” I can’t believe the word pussy fell from my lips so easily. I don’t think I’ve ever said that word out loud before.
He finally turns his focus on me, those big brown eyes meeting mine. “No.”
I don’t believe him. “How do you know about it then?”
“I hear talk.” Another shrug. “In the locker room.”
Great. Just great. They’re talking about me in the locker room? “You’re on the football team too?”
I find this hard to believe. He doesn’t look like a football player. He’s not big enough. Too skinny.
“JV.”
Junior varsity. Maybe he’s making this up. “What position do you play?”
He shakes out the match and lets it fall to the ground. Thin tendrils of smoke rise from it before disappearing into the air. “Quarterback.”
Nope. Nope, nope, nope.
Forget this boy. Forget JT too. They’re all quarterbacks like my dad. Meaning they all want to get close to me because of my dad.
Never because of me.
Without another word, I turn and walk away, praying I never have to talk to him again.
I didn’t ask his name, and he didn’t ask mine, but he knew who I was.
Eventually, I’d know who he was too.
Sophomore Year
Two