She could have left right then.
There was nothing keeping her sitting in that barstool.
She could have told him thank you for not firing her and thus sending her down a road she was desperately trying to avoid.
She could have gotten up and gone home.
But something stopped her.
Something made her ask.
“What’s your story?” She could tell by the look on his face that this, too, came out a little harsher than she’d intended.
“Why all the sudden interest in my life?” He smirked.
“I just mean–”
“I know what you mean. I was just…I was just…” He paused as he let out a deep breath. “I don’t know. My story is rather boring. But I have a feeling you hide a much better one under that uptight, goody two shoes persona you put on.”
Normally, she would have balked at his comment, but not now. There were too many questions circling through her brain to allow for halfwitted digs to surface.
“Why still do the tattoo thing if you own Topline?”
“Because it’s what I’m passionate about.”
She nodded in understanding.
“It’s not bad revenue either, despite what others may think. We do well for ourselves. But if I could do anything all day, every day, I would draw, paint, create.”
“You're not who I thought you were.”
“You mean you saw the long, dark disheveled hair, tattoos, and party house, and assumed I was a lazy asshole bum with five dollars to my name and spent every cent I had on booze, drugs, and girls?”
The sheepish smile that crossed her face was a clear giveaway. She couldn’t hide it even if she wanted to.
“Would you hate me if I said that about hit the nail on the head?”
“You shouldn't judge a book by its cover.” His words were quiet. Almost a whisper.
“I know. Trust me, I know.” She nodded in agreement.
Well, that was a shocker. Definitely not what she’d been expecting. Especially since she’d met his dad and siblings. She thought his dad was a doctor of some kind, and she knew that his brother, Connor, was fresh out of med school. His family had been kind to her at the dinner where they’d met, but that was all she really knew about them. On the outside, they looked like a page torn out of a country club’s monthly newsletter. Nothing like the image Callum portrayed. She wondered if that was why he was the way he was. Was he desperate to distance himself from the suffocating box that must have been his adolescence?
Her mouth continued to talk without her brain thinking through her next words. “So, are you the odd ball?” He looked a little confused by her question, so she clarified, “You and Connor are most definitely opposites.” She didn’t mean it as harshly as it sounded, and from the emotions that flashed through his eyes, she could tell her comment stung.
“How the fuck do you know Connor?” he spat out as he began to stand.
“I met him–”
“You know what? It doesn’t matter. Just don’t fucking compare us, okay? Don’t do that.”
And then he walked away, leaving her clueless as to what had just occurred.
Chapter 8 - Sam
Christian held the door as they walked in. They had spent the better part of the previous evening huddled together at a back table in the library and she was exhausted. He’d promised her that if she memorized the entirety of the muscle and nerve innervation chart by the time they left, he would buy her the largest cup of coffee she had ever seen.
She’d gladly taken the challenge.