"You really want the right to walk around topless?"
"Actually I was drunk at the time and didn't know it was a protest. I had no idea why all these girls were walking around topless. But it looked fun so I whipped my shirt and bra off right as the cops showed up. Got charged with public indecency." She swigs her beer.
I laugh. "So my neighbor's a jailbird."
"Pretty much." She drinks the rest of her beer.
"Well, hey, if you ever want to whip your top off and walk around the yard, feel free. I have no problem with it."
She laughs. "Yeah, I kind of figured that. You are a guy, after all."
True, but I have a feeling the sight of her naked breasts would turn me on more than some other girl's. Her breasts are currently covered in that red t-shirt and I already can't take my eyes off them. I'm trying not to look but it's a v-neck shirt and when she leans across the table to get her drink, I keep catching a glimpse of them and it causes that twitch in my shorts again.
"So how many brothers do you have?" she asks, distracting me from her breasts.
"Three." I take another slice of pizza. "Austin is 20, Bryce is 22, and Jake is 23."
"Wow. Your mom had one right after another."
"My stepmom," I say correcting her.
"Oh. Yeah. Sorry. I forgot."
"It's okay. I considered her my mom. I never thought of her as a stepmom. I don't even know why I said that just now. Maybe because I'm in this house and thinking about my birth mom. Anyway, Barb, my mom, raised me and always treated me like I was her own." I pause. "She was a good woman."
"She's gone?" Callie asks softly.
I nod. "Had a heart attack a few years ago. It was sudden. Surprised all of us. She'd never had heart problems."
"That must've been hard on your dad and your brothers...and you."
"Yeah. It sucked. My dad shut down for a few months. He stayed in the house, wouldn't eat, wouldn't talk to us. I ended up taking over the business until he got through his grief and was able to work again."
"It's hard when you lose someone." She looks down at the table.
"Yeah," I say, shaking my head. "It's part of life but it fucking hurts for the people left behind."
It's so true. Painfully true. It hurt like hell when I lost my mom, but it hurt even more when I lost Becky. At least my mom had fifty years on this earth. Becky only had seventeen.
I glance over and see Callie's head down, her shoulders slumped, and her eyes squeezed shut.
"Callie?" I rub her arm. "Are you okay?"
Her head rises and she wipes her eyes. Was she crying? Shit. Now what did I do? I keep screwing up with her. Saying the wrong thing.
"I'm fine. That story just made me sad." She smiles a little. "It sounds like you really loved your mom, I mean, your stepmom. I'm sorry you lost her."
I let go of her arm and take a deep breath. For some reason I feel the need to tell her this. I have no idea why. It's just one of those things you feel in your gut. Like she needs to know this. Or maybe I just need to say it. It's been so long since I talked about it, and Marissa never let me. She said it was morbid and depressing and that I was living in the past. But sometimes I need to talk about it. Like now.
"I lost someone else," I say, picking up the beer bottle cap and tapping it on the plastic table.
"You did?" she asks cautiously.
"Yeah," I say, swallowing past the lump in my throat. Maybe I shouldn't talk about this. It's still so hard. I don't know why. Shit, it's been years. I should be able to talk about this without choking up.
"Who was it?" Callie asks, leaning forward, her attention focused on me.
I hesitate, but then just tell her. "Her name was Becky. We went to school together. We were in the same grade. We were best friends. She was beautiful. Bright blond hair, light blue eyes, and the sweetest smile. All the guys wanted to date her, but not me. I didn't see her that way. She was more like a sister to me. Freshman year of high school, we went out on a date just to see if there was anything there, but there wasn't. We kissed and it didn't feel right. We both dated other people in high school but we remained best friends. Until the day of the accident. When she was taken from me."
"What happened?" Callie asks, her eyes filled with sadness.
I don't want to tell her this. I did, but now I don't. It's still too hard. The pain and regret I feel for that day is still there, more than I care to admit. And I'm not ready to share that with someone else.
"You don't want to talk about it," she says, laying her hand on mine. "I understand."
And for whatever reason, I feel like she really does understand. Is it because she lost someone too? Or is just because she's a good person? Caring. Empathetic. Qualities I'd wished Marissa had, but that just wasn't her.