Callie’s POV
“So then, he literally looks me dead in the eye and tells me that he’s ‘not ready for a label,’ even though his toothbrush has been sitting next to mine in the bathroom for three entire months. Can you believe that? Callie. Callie, are you even listening to me?”
Harper’s voice cut through the heavy, thumping bass of the dive bar, violently pulling me back to the sticky vinyl of our corner booth. I blinked, my fingers tightening so hard around my condensation-slicked glass that the ice inside gave a sharp, protesting crack.
“I’m listening,” I lied, my voice sounding incredibly thin and breathless to my own ears. Forcing my gaze away from the dark concrete pillar across the crowded dance floor, I looked back at my best friend. “He said he didn’t want a label. Kyle is an i***t
