e. (epalmer) wrote in mcdermott_game, @ 2009-07-15 21:23:00 |
|
|||
Entry tags: | callas, callas/eric, eric |
Who: Callas and Eric
What: Eric bothers Callas, it accidentally turns into a date (much to Callas's dismay). Lots of bickering and some random kissing.
Where: Student lounge between Keaton and Janning initially, and then Harper Cove and back.
When: Backdated to Tuesday, July 15th/09
Rating: PG-13. Potty mouths!
Status: Complete.
"Why," Jared, one of Eric's friends from back home in Albany had asked, "In God's fucking name would you want to go to school during the summer?"
Jared's disdain had been palpable but Eric had just shrugged and passed him the joint. "Not like there's anything to do around here. And it's not all summer." But Jared hadn't been able to believe it and Eric couldn't either really sometimes. After all, he had spent the bulk of high school trying to figure out creative new ways on how to skip class. When he wasn't partying or playing soccer or hooking up with girls, that is. And now he was voluntarily going to class in the summer?
Crazy fucking shit, but whatever, it worked. And it was better than sticking around and watching Brynn walk around in all her pre-med glory while everyone looked at her like she was some beacon of light and perfection. It's not that he was jealous, sincerely, but it was just so fucking nauseating. And honestly, he liked McDermott. It was just ... yeah. It was good.
He had toked up a few hours ago and chilled in his room, eating pop tarts and DVDs but he was sick of his room now. He was no longer high, or even buzzed, just relaxed and feeling a bit restless, so he went down to the student lounge that connected to Keaton. He scanned the room for people to hang with or possibly antagonize (kidding. sort of), briefly considering what he could do to shake things up a bit when he saw Callas Devry sitting alone on a couch, looking immersed in something. He smirked. He couldn't help himself. Callas was stubborn and feisty and Eric was a sucker for that sort of challenge.
"Callie, my woman." He plunked down beside her and draped an arm around her shoulder. "What are you, studying? How totally virtuous of you. Not to mention fucking boring."
Neatly, Callas shrugged off his arm, going back to her book. "It's called learning, Eric, would you have any concept of what that was? No? I didn't think so. Besides, if it's so fucking boring, why don't you go bother someone else?" It was strangely easy to talk to Eric, easier than talking to any of the girls. Bex and KJ were nice, but ... they were girls, and Callas was always awkward around her own sex. Maybe because Eric wasn't a girl, he was easy to act normal around.
Maybe. The fact that he was attractive just confused her on top of that.
"Aw, Callie." He leaned in toward her, closer than the average bubble of personal space recommended, and smiled. "You know you're at the top of my 'to bother' list, right?" And then he leaned back, placing his hands behind his head as he stretched out a bit. "Besides, I'm pretty sure none of these people are nearly as fun to talk to as you."
"A) you don't have a right to call me Callie, as you don't know me, and b) I'm flattered, really." Callas glanced up over the top of her book. "But I'm still not going to fuck you, Eric." Her smile was poisonously sweet.
"I'm calling you Callie whether you like it or not, so you may as well start liking it. And I already knew you were flattered." He grinned at her words, so just and sure. And yet her resistance to him made her that much more of a priority to him. He could be relentless when he wanted and right now, fuck yeah he wanted. "Easy, Callie. Can't we at least be friends?"
"And you want to be friends why?" Callas trusted no guy after her experiences with Michael, especially not a guy like Eric. His entire persona screamed danger to her, and she couldn't help being wary of that. If it was obvious with him -- well. That just made it easier to avoid. "I'm not exactly in the market for friends."
"Why not? You seem smart, well-adjusted, blah blah blah. I could probably use friends like that." Most of his were more or less like him - played hard, worked hardly and treated the world like it was more or less a game. He wasn't naive enough to truly believe he'd earn her trust or deep, devoted friendship -- not without a lot of effort, more than he was willing to put in -- but it was a thought, nonetheless. No harm in trying, and it was fun to fuck with her. Not as fun as it'd be to fuck her, but... "Why not?"
She looked at him as if he had lost his mind, and then tentatively laughed. "You're -- no, you're shitting me." Callas closed the book, rose to her feet and yanked him to his without flinching at size or the strength required to do so. "You're also high," she noted, looking at his eyes clearly for the first time. "That explains it, never mind."
He let out a small yelp as she pulled him up, glaring at her a bit. What the fuck? Bitch was strong. "I am not high," he told her, rolling his eyes. And it was truth. Although he wished he was still high. Damn. "I was. There's a difference. But anyway, Callie. Why aren't you in the friend market? Fucked over all your old ones or what?"
Callas let go of him, ignoring the urge to straighten his shirt now that she'd messed it up. She brushed off her hands. "I fucked them over by abandoning them in the middle of the school year. Cry them a river. Why were you high?"
"They'll get over it," he said dismissively. "And so will you. By, you know. Making new friends. And ... I don't know, something to do?" He shrugged. "It's fun. You know what that is, right?"
"I used to toilet paper and egg just as much as everybody else did," she told him. "That's not the point. The point is, it's illegal and it's not healthy." Callas paused. Why was she even bothering, really? It wasn't like Eric mattered to her. "So ... never mind, go ahead and do what you want."
Toilet paper and egg? He scoffed. So juvenile. "You've gotten drunk right? Which ... I'm pretty sure is illegal til we're 21. And so not fucking healthy. So spare me. Now, let's go on a walk. I'm pretty fucking bored." He straightened up and smirked. "I'll even hold your books."
"Yes, I've gotten drunk." If her voice was a little testy on the subject, better that than tremulous. Callas' grip tightened on the book, and she turned, forgetting that she'd worn a shorter shirt deliberately because she hadn't intended on going outside, and that doing so would reveal the white patch over her brand-new tattoo. "I'm not dressed to go outdoors."
He rolled his eyes at her tone. "Easy," he instructed, his eyes still following her even as she turned. Couldn't help it, checking girls out was basically imbedded in his DNA. But instead of lewdly doing so, instead he saw the patch on her back. His eyes widened a bit and he moved in toward her, placing his hands on her slim hips to stop her so he could get a better look. "What's this?" he asked, the smirk already beginning to form.
She stilled at the touch, turning her head automatically. Though she couldn't see what he was looking at, it really could only be one thing. Callas flushed, pulling away from him and yanking at her shirt. "It's nothing."
"It's definitely something. You got a tattoo?" His tone was colored with amusement, and just the littlest bit of awe. He didn't think she'd actually do it. "Tramp stamp, actually. Awesome! What's it of?"
"I ... don't remember," she admitted, and then remembered who she was talking to. Eric of all people was the last person to tell she didn't remember. He'd probably do something stupid like look.
"You don't remember? So you got shitfaced and went and got a random tattoo? And this you did instead of coming down to my room ... huh. I'm pretty sure that would have been less stupid. Although not nearly as fucking hilarious." His smirk had broadened into a grin. "Let me see."
Callas backed away from him. "Bex and KJ would never have let me get a random tattoo. I must have gone with the circlet of stars I wanted. There--" She paused, and stopped, staring at him for half a second before she turned around. "No, take it off and tell me what I did."
She was willingly letting him do this? Really? Because if she hadn't, he wasn't above just ripping the thing off when she started walking away but this worked. He moved in toward her again, one hand bringing her shirt back up slightly at the other delicately lifting the patch up as to not just tear it off. But then that got boring, so he did just that. "You like me so much you got an 'I Love Eric' tat? Damn."
"Ow!" she cried out reflexively, even if it didn't hurt that badly. It was mostly the shock of letting him do that getting to her. Callas wanted to rub the spot, didn't dare when he was staring at it. "Very funny. Tell me what it really is," she demanded.
"You'll be okay," he told her flippantly as he continued to stare at it, drawing out the moment as much as possible. Just because he knew it would drive her absolutely crazy as he did. "Huh. Interesting. Still kinda red, though."
"It's going to be red for quite some time," Callas told him, and began biting her lip. What if he wasn't telling her not just to fuck with her head, but also because he didn't have enough words to describe exactly how bad it was? She began to panic slightly, because after all, how well did she really know KJ and Bex? Not well enough to go and trust them with this. Not really. "Eric, I swear, I will hit you."
Ahh, he loved moments like these. They were so much fun. What did that say about him, exactly how much he enjoyed watching people squirm? Probably not healthy things. "You promise?" he asked lasciviously with the raise of an eyebrow before grinning. "Okay. I'll tell you. But you've gotta go on that walk."
"Why would I walk anywhere with you when I can just --" Callas sighed, shaking her head. She'd worn her hair down today, for once, and it was loosely framing her face as she turned to look back at him. That look on his face did not promise good things, but she'd known that. "Fine," she said. "But you better walk a hell of a lot better than you fuck, Eric."
"Like I've said before, Callie, you can't judge til you've been there. Which, once you get over yourself, will happen. Now, chill out. Pissed off thing is kinda hot but--" He paused for a moment to tuck a strand of her hair behind her ear, a gesture that was normally meant to be sweet and sincere but with him, he was just being an asshole. Then he continued, "Unnecessary. Anyway, it's a sun. Not bad, actually. Better than a butterfly or something. Happy?"
"When I get over myself?" She was relieved enough to argue with him about something else, opting not to mention the fact that he'd touched her. "You mean when you get over your delusions. I don't sleep with stoners, and you aren't giving that up for any girl, obviously."
"Are you this judgemental with everyone? I'm not a stoner. That's like saying people who drink occasionally are alcoholics." He rolled his eyes. Seriously! It's not like he was a total stoner burn out. It was just a fun way to unwind. The alternative to sex, apparently. Okay, so he probably smoked more than just occasionally, but still ...
Callas lifted an eyebrow. "Do you want to sleep with me?"
"Hey, you're giving me an invitation now?"
"I'm asking you a question." She tried to remember the Callas that had scared the shit out of people on purpose, the one who then dissolved into laughter that didn't stop when they realized she was joking. For herself, she tried to be brave. And because Eric was exactly the kind of boy she needed to avoid, he was good practice. "So answer."
She was playing a game. He didn't know exactly where she was going with this game, but he was more than sure that it'd end up being some huge diss on him. But despite the terrible odds, Eric always loved to play. So he shrugged a bit. "Sure, Callas. I want to sleep with you."
She held a breath, let that resonate within her. No one had ever been flat out blatant about it, and some distant part of her - the part that hadn't been terrified and stammering and shy since leaving Stanford - was amused by it. Flattered, almost. And remembering that made her brave enough to do what she needed to. She kissed him.
Okay. So, well-played by Callas. Eric was fairly difficult to truly surprise, but ... nope, color him shocked. Still. Didn't mean he didn't enjoy it. He was kissing her back immediately (instant reaction), hands finding their way to her hips for a second time that day. Then he pulled back. "Not bad. Could have benefitted from some tongue, but ..." He shrugged. "So, what was that for?"
His hands on her hips were warm, but they weren’t familiar, and it was oddly okay that they weren’t, because they were gone before she had time to fully process it. “Just because. And you don’t merit tongue when I don’t know where yours has been,” Callas told him indifferently, and headed past him. “You wanted to walk, Eric. Let’s go.”
She did it for the shock factor, he surmised. That or her carnal desire for him, but as much as his ego would like to believe that, the former made much more sense. Possibly to get some sort of message across? Or at least to knock him down a peg or two. But he kept playing, because no fucking way was Callas getting the upperhand here. "It's been just as many places as my lips," he reminded her as he caught up to her in a couple long strides. "Which you didn't have a problem with."
“Lips are one thing. Tongue makes it personal,” she answered, surprising herself for half a second, because that was an old rule that someone on the team had told her. Who was it? Dee, maybe. Or Jen, she couldn’t remember. She’d laughed it off at the time, but it was true, apparently. “Besides, it’s not like you minded, did you?”
"Of course not. Just saying, it could have been better." He shrugged. "Don't worry. We'll get it right the second time. So, do you randomly kiss a lot of dudes? Because I didn't peg you for the type."
Callas was silent at that, and then glanced at him. "If I said I don't, what does that mean? I'm curious as to where I fit in your psychological profile of all the females you've slept with."
"I haven't slept with you yet," he corrected. "And I think you give me too much credit. I don't do the psycho-analyzing shit much. But in your case, it clearly means you want to fuck my brains out too. It's no big deal."
She just rolled her eyes. "Even if I found you sexually attractive, which I don't, I wouldn't sleep with you now on principle. Do you plan on tormenting me for the rest of the two weeks or so until you get bored and find a new target now?"
"Yes you do and fuck principle. And then me." He had to laugh, just a bit. "This? Isn't tormenting. And some sick part of you kind of enjoys it. You can deny it if you want."
"Just because you got kissed doesn't mean I do. I could have been thanking you for not being douchebag enough to tease me further about my tattoo." Callas found a stride, not quite running and not quite walking, but somewhere in between. She turned and looked at Eric, lifting a brow. "The only part of this I enjoy is the the fact that we're moving. Now are you going to keep up or am I going to
have to go slower?"
"Oh really. So what do you kiss your barista for making a good coffee? Blow someone for holding the door open for you? So yeah. You think I'm hot. Seriously, no big deal. And Christ, I didn't realize this was a race." But he was easily able to keep pace with her. She might be super-swimmer and have the really strong legs too, but he had been playing soccers for years. It's not like he was out of shape.
She approved of that much, even if the language was enough to make her wrinkle her nose and move faster. "It's only enough to keep me entertained. Do you really want to know what I do to the towel boy at the pool?"
"I'd say fuck him in the locker room but ... you know, considering you've only had sex once, I know that's out of the question. Which brings me back to the same thing. Just a matter of time before you admit it."
"Maybe he was the first," she suggested blithely. "And maybe I don't count oral sex? Just a thought. You can suggest whatever you'd like, Eric, I'm still not sleeping with you."
"You don't oral sex, huh?" His words were thick with implication -- most of them were around her though -- and he shrugged. "I believe that you believe that right now."
If she'd had a lollipop, she'd have done something suggestive with it on purpose, right then and there. As it was, Callas only shrugged. She was finding herself in this conversation, and it rocked, because for once, she was not hiding or worrying what she had to say. With Eric, she didn't have to give a damn. "Are you planning on trying to change my mind? Because I could use the laugh."
"I'm not gonna start holding doors open for you -- unless it did come with oral -- or giving you chocolates or anything. No worries there." Although he had used these techniques in the past on girls, it'd be utterly useless to do so with Callas. More transparent than glass. "But I figure one of these days, you'll get curious enough. You're curious right now."
"It's the pull of the naive ex-virgin to the campus bicycle," she told him, almost cheerful now that she was feeling more like herself. "It's a cliche that's been written time and time again, and do you know? It means nothing. But it's fun as hell, I have to admit."
"Is it? I guess I don't read much. More into movies. But at least you can admit it's fun." That provoked a bit of a smile. And this was. Further proof that Eric enjoyed games. As long as the outcome worked in his favour which he was sure it would eventually. Or else she would have bitchslapped him by now. Yeah, it's happened.
"I have a sense of humor. It just doesn't always apply to everything in life." Like him. She shouldn't be amused by this or him, but she was. Callas came to a stop when they hit Harper Cove, and glanced at him. "Don't suppose you have any cash on you?"
Now he was really amused. "I'm buying you dinner now? After our walk? I'm pretty sure that'd make this a date."
"You're not buying me dinner. You're buying me a water, and that doesn't count toward a date. After all, I did kiss you," she reminded him.
"How could I forget?" He smirked, and then shrugged. "I could buy you dinner though. You hungry?"
Again, the look she gave him was out of the corner of her eyes, still wary, still ready to bolt at the slightest opportunity. And then she shrugged, dispelling it. "Sure. Why not."
Which worked for him, because he had just realized he was hungry. The pop tarts from before weren't quite holding up anymore. "Yep. We're on a date. You coming?" he asked as he passed through the door of the popular joint.
"We aren't on a date," she told him, and went through. "I'm paying you back when I get back to my room. And not the way you're thinking, Eric."
Ooh, yeah. He was definitely grinning. "Why not? The way I was thinking was a lot funner. And I'm pretty sure that's where dates are supposed to end up anyway."
Callas couldn't help it; she laughed, the sound rich and bright and everything she'd forgotten. "I'm sorry, if you wanted a stupid, easy lay, you should have so gone to bother a different girl on your list."
"I don't want a stupid, easy lay," he told her as they lined up. And he was being serious, too. If that's what he wanted, and he often did, he went after it. But he didn't. Not right now, at least. "Why do you think I'm here?"
“I don’t know why you’re here,” she admitted, some of the shyness coming back as she said it. Callas looked away from him and to the line, remembering. It left a sour taste in her mouth, and one that she fought to ignore. “I suppose I shouldn’t really care, either.”
"But you do?" he prompted, noting how she was shying away slightly. Huh. Interesting. He was trying to figure this girl out, but he couldn't quite pinpoint her yet. Frustrating, but undeniably intriguing.
“I kind of do and kind of don’t. You’re familiar, at least. I mean, I know the type.” And that type didn’t scare her – if he had been caring and fun and sweet, things would have been different. Strangely enough, Callas could deal with an asshole. It made her feel better.
As they moved up, he trained hiz gaze toward her more intently than he had before (as he was busy checking out the other girls in line and trying to figure out if he had slept with the blonde 2 spaces ahead of them, or just someone who looked like her) and raised his eyebrows. "What, this sort of thing happen to you a lot?" he asked, a cross between amused and genuinely curious.
“I had a lot of guy friends on the team,” she told him, her voice deliberately casual. “Ryan, David, Justin, and Jess were all like you. I can tell that off the bat. Ryan spent two years trying to convince me I needed to ‘drop panties,’ as he so charmingly put it.”
"You mean I'm not one of a kind?" Eric put a hand to his heart. "Shit, that stings." And then he thought about her sentence some more. "So, if you were friends with them does that mean you're going to be my friend now too? Before you fall passionately in love with me, I mean."
"I didn't ever like any of them but Jess," Callas told him. "And that was because he was friends with my best friend, not really because we hung out. I threw Ryan into a pool and threatened to kick the shit out of him. Besides, do you really think you have time for me in your oh-so-busy fuck schedule, Eric?"
"You make it sound like I don't do anything else," he said with a scoff and a roll of his eyes. "New question. Why'd you threaten to kick Ryan's ass but instead of threatening me, you just kissed me?"
She grinned at that. "You're prettier? And I don't know, Eric, you look like you wouldn't last long in a fight with me. You'd maneuver it to put me into a vulnerable position and then..." She gestured expansively rather than elucidate.
"Thanks for acknowleding how hot I am. And you know, you're probably right. We're up." He nudged her ahead of him to order, eyes trailing down to her tattoo and smirking a bit, before ordering after her. Couple burgers, large fries, large coke. He produced his debit to pay, and once it cleared went and claimed a table, not glancing behind him but marginally sure she'd follow.
She opened her mouth to change her order, and decided it was too late. Why lie and get a salad? It wasn't like she needed to show off. Callas just rolled her eyes and followed him with the tray. "Okay, so you don't win brownie points for making me carry the tray."
"Not like you can't handle it. Put the tray down so I can grab a burger," he demanded, hand snaking out for one as soon as the tray was slightly within distance. He unwrapped it and consumed about half of it within 15 seconds, and then chased it with some coke. "You're welcome, by the way."
She watched him eat, the hint of a smile curling her lips before she looked down and began eating. It was at a far more measured pace, that was for sure. "You sure you needed me to put that down, Stretch Armstrong? I mean, you grabbed that pretty damn quick."
"I'm fucking starving. And I'm still not hearing a 'thank you', Callie. Unless that comes at the end of the date?" He paused in faux-thought. "I haven't done the actual date thing for a while."
She leaned her elbows against the table, pushing her plate at him. "Then I'll have the fries. Eat the burger. And if you want a thank you, you'll have to wait until we run back. I do mean that literally." Callas wasn't necessarily hopeful, but she thought that maybe a hard run might cool his attentions a little.
"You're eating the fries? I thought you only wanted water. Damn, girl." But he did consume the rest of the burger. And then after he bit into another one, he swallowed and shrugged. "Sure. You realize I play soccer, right? So I can keep up with you. In fact, I could probably beat you back."
"Do you?" She glanced curiously at him. "In that case, then, you're on. And you said this was a date. Which means you'd pay for food I'm supposed to eat, Eric."
"Since I was 12," he confirmed. "And fine. But that's only if you admit it's a date. And when people ask you what you did tonight, you can brag about having been on a date with Eric Palmer."
"Why soccer?" Callas wanted to know. "One date isn't going to kill me," she added, looking down at the fries and eating at least one, just to prove that she could get past the vomitous feeling of the word 'date.'
"Why swimming?" he retaliated, taking another bite of the burger. He stared at the fries, wondering if she'd slap his hand for taking some but that was a risk he was willing to take. He could just buy more, of course, but that'd involve effort so instead he plucked a few out and popped them into his mouth.
“I asked you first.” She didn’t slap his hand away, though she could have. Instead she just ate more, one handful before pushing the plate toward him and rising from her seat. “Are you done yet?”
"Because I kicked ass at it, and it was fun." Plus girls had enjoyed the athletic thing, and it had been something Brynn didn't have. For all of her honors and awards, she was not even slightly coordinated. "So why swimming? And give me a minute. Who lit the fire under your ass?" He took his sweet time finishing the rest of his burger before rising as well, grabbing some fries for the road.
"Maybe you did, and I want to get back to the room before I change my mind," Callas told him, smirking; she took off at a jog, just until she was out of doors and out of sight, and then she sped up, truly running.
Was this supposed to be a race or something? Because he could do that. He kept himself in good shape, with soccer and trysts at the gym. Which he was now apparently going to prove, despite the fact that he didn't really feel like running. But she already had a head start, so ... Once out the door, he broke into a run as well, although he wasn't really dressed for it in jeans, but whatever. Callas was in his line of sight the entire time, although it became evident that he wasn't going to catch up with her.
She almost didn't care if he was following her; running was, next to swimming, her favorite athletic activity, and so Callas fled, not having to think for the two or three minutes it took to reach the dorm. When she got to the doors, she skidded to a stop, turning to find that Eric was, indeed, running after her. He was keeping pretty good time, too. It was unintentionally impressive, and she tried not to watch the way his body moved. Attracted to him, so not fine. So definitely not fine. "Well, then. That was fun."
He wiped the sweat off his forehead and then wiped his hands on his jeans, scanning her for signs of physical discomfort or fatigue but meeting none. He really, really wanted to see her naked, he decided. He was willing to bet she had one of the best bodies on campus. "It was okay. Although the two burgers weren't a good idea. This how you end all your dates?"
"This is how I end a lot of things." Callas had her hands in her back pockets as she approached him, sizing Eric up like she really did intend to pull him into the building with her at the slightest opportunity. Her brown eyes were full of playfulness at the same time the look was studious, and she wet her lips deliberately. "So how do you end yours?"
"Well, if the chick is fucking irredeemably batshit and probably won't even put out, I usually just leave the date half-way through. But if it actually went kind of well..." Then he'd go for the good-night kiss. Which is exactly what he did. It was similiar to their first one, hands slipping around her and resting on her hips, except this time he was sure to include some tongue.
Callas wasn't surprised, because she'd planned it herself, and so now, she only hesitated in the giving back. Eric had her at a disadvantage - she hadn't intended on tongue, or liking it when he did it, either. But she did, enough to pull back a little frantically. "Nice. Now go be interested in someone else."
He had to chuckle at that, just a little bit. Okay, maybe a lot bit. His hands were still lingering on her, and he left them there, one of his hands idly rising up her back, over her tattoo before bringing his arms back to his side. "You wish. Night, Callie."
She just stared at him, hating the fact that she was secretly disappointed. "Uh huh, whatever." Callas turned from him dismissively, and then stopped to turn back, kissing him again. This time she bit his lower lip deliberately until he parted them, and then she pulled back. "Night, Eric. Have a nice life."
He didn't want to stop the kiss, damn it. But his lower lip could not take that much abuse, and her teeth were sharp. When he pulled away, he frowned a bit. This wasn't going to work for him. He refused to let her have the last word, so he plunged in for another kiss, hands finding her face this time rather than her body.
She wasn't able to move away, pinned by his touch and then by the kiss. Callas wanted not to close her eyes or let it affect her breathing, but it did. Eric was kissing her and it was all she could think about, until it became a matter of needing air. She tilted her head, opening her mouth to gain air and much-needed perspective. "Stop," she said, only it came out whispery and delicate, exactly the opposite.
Eric didn't want to listen, because someone kissing Callas had transitioned from 'proving a point' to really fucking good. And he knew, knew she was thinking the same thing, or else why wouldn't she have stopped him? Why would she have kissed him that second time, when he had been about to leave? Or hell, the first time? And the way the word 'stop' came out like almost a tremble ...
Pulling away was difficult. And he now so badly wanted to fuck her, more than before, because now he'd had a taste. And he was fairly certain she was having the same thoughts. Or would be. And that was a satisfying thought -- that he'd be clouding her head all night. One could hope. So he complied with her request, straightened himself out and plastered a shit eating smirk on his face like the last few minutes had not even occured. And then promptly turned to leave. "Later, Callas."
Oh, what she wouldn't give to hit him. As it was, she just resolved to go back to hating him - it was much better than kissing him and being left confused by the whole ordeal. She needed someone to figure that out with. Someone she could reasonably trust. Sort of, anyway, as much as she trusted anyone. Callas' eyes narrowed. "This won't be happening again, Eric, so can the smirk. Not interested."
"I'd believe that if you hadn't made such a convincing show of making out with me!" he called back to her, barely turning as he yelled this back to her. "We'll talk later!"
Fuck. She was so very, very screwed. Callas shook her head, not answering him as she headed into the building and up the stairs. She needed a shower. Maybe the cold water would remind her of her common sense.