By the time Calum and I were in senior year, neither of us were particularly new to the subject of sex. Everyone knew that I wasn't a virgin—Lester Breuer had a delightful way of advertising that even though he wasn't one to brag—and Calum couldn't be with all the girls trying to get into his pants.

The first time I slept with Calum was extraordinary in the way that I don't remember a single moment of it. It was a messy, drink-over-heels accident in which we agreed to play seven minutes in heaven during a party at Chad's—god knows why—but were locked in a room and forgotten about until someone finally unwedged the chair from under the door handle and rescued us the next day.

I don't actually remember much of the night—a few unglamorous flashes here and there of sweaty bodies punctuated by moans and slapping skin—or the morning, except that my head ached like a blue-green bruise and I threw up on the side of the bed upon waking as Calum held my hair.

Remembering it, I feel mortified that I put Calum through two hours of sitting in a room with the upturned contents of my alcohol-filled stomach, but Calum never brought it up. In fact I think he secretly took the credit for the mess as, during the next visit, Chad thanked Calum for buying him a new rug.

After that incident everything we did seemed reasonably within bounds. "Neither of us remember how it was," Calum had said wistfully, a grin on his face. "Seems like such a waste that I don't remember sex with the Stella Reyes."

"Easily resolved—we do it again," I joked, and we did. "Friends with benefits," people would say, and I'd agree. Except that our relationship would have been approved—supported even—by our families.

"I heard you're seeing the Remington boy," my mother had noted one day when I was walking through the kitchen.

"Mother, I can explain," I started, but my mother stopped me.

"It's fine. He's fine," she said, turning back to the chopping board to continue dicing the carrots—something she did to amuse herself once in a while when office work seemed lacking.

---

"We shouldn't single people out," Whitney said, frowning as we laid around Karen's room in various states of disarray. Whitney was getting her nails done by Quinn, Karen was on her computer, and Stacey and I were on our phones.

"We're not," Stacey defended with pursed lips. "She can come next time—just not this time."
"Pizza sounds good?" Karen asked, reaching for her phone. "Haven't had it in a while."

"How about pepperoni and cheese?" Quinn suggested, applying a layer of topcoat to top off Whitney's nails. "I miss the simple things."

"Sounds good to me," I said. Stacey shrugged, flipping through her phone as Whitney nodded.

"Pepperoni and cheese it is then," Karen declared, excusing herself to make the order.

"Down to business then," Stacey said, finally putting her phone down beside her and assuming her I-will-ask-and-you-will-answer pose. "Does everyone still think Kimberly's just a fling?"

"Isn't she?" Whitney asked, frowning.

"You're thinking she's not?" Quinn asked, turning around to look at Stacey.

"No, but this stupid charade with Calum has been dragging on long enough," Stacey said. "The earlier he fucks and drops her, the sooner we can ditch her virgin ass."

"Juicy stuff?" Karen asked as she reentered the room, checking her computer briefly before closing the screen. "What'd I miss?"

"Stacey thinks Calum should be getting over Kimberly soon," I told her. "She's not that bad, is she? And I doubt she'd still want to be friends after Calum drops her."

"I'll just point out that we don't really know her," Karen said, looking at Stacey who shrugged in response.

"I think he would have consulted Stella if he were serious," Whitney commented.

"Which he hasn't," I added. "Why don't we give it until the end of February? Valentine's day ought to make or break the two."

"So fifty-fifty on whether or not they're dating..." Stacey summed up with a frown. "Okay."

The doorbell rang, signalling the arrival of dinner. We migrated to the kitchen as Karen went to get the pizza.

"Smells wonderful," Whitney murmured, sighing.

"Yep," I agreed. Everyone grabbed a slice and a plate to eat. I chose cheese- pepperoni's nice and all, but sometimes you're just in the mood for cheese.

"Whit, you and Gatly," Stacey started, grinning when Whitney blushed immediately. "Good to hear."

"You still look so innocent," Quinn sighed. "It doesn't matter how many times I remind myself I can swear in front of you—it still feels wrong. Must be your small face."

"And blue eyes," Karen added with a sigh of her own. "Why are my eyes brown and boring?"

"Moving on, I'd like to open discussion on the topic of Quinn and Scarlet fever," I said, winking at Quinn who looked panicked.

"Yes Quinn—was that blushing I saw the other day when Tim complimented you, or did you come down with some terrible disease I should be concerned about?" Karen asked, unable to suppress a grin.

"Karen!" Quinn cried, flustered now. "Whitney, help me!"

"You're on your own," Whitney said with a little smirk. "I answered their questions."

"Oh all right," Quinn said, resigned. "I've had a crush on him since last year—Homecoming, remember? We didn't have a DJ and Tim stepped up and—"

"We get it, honey," Stacey said with a grin. "You're head-over-heels for the nice guy who can whip out some killer tunes. I have to say—he looks pretty hot without his glasses."

"You need to tell him!" Karen said seriously.

"I—I'm scared," Quinn admitted. "What if he rejects me?"

"Quinn! Honey—we'll be there for you through thick and thin, so don't worry," Stacey reassured her. "If he makes you cry I'll beat him."

"You and what army?" I challenged playfully.

"Me, myself, and my IPhone," Stacey joked. We burst out into laughter, picturing Stacey going after the unassuming Tim with nothing but her phone.

"So—Stella, what's the deal between you and Jordan?" Karen asked casually, a small smirk on her face.

"Not this again," I groaned. "I told you all—one night stand and now we're friends."

"You should consider him!" Whitney said. "He's not that bad."

"Not bad looking," Quinn amended, "but his reputation... He's a womanizer."

"I say just go for it," Stacey declared with a grin. "I'm sure he's good in bed."

"Only you would list that as a reason," Karen said, shaking her head in amusement. "He actually reminds me of Chad—although he seems sweeter."

"Keep the criticism on my man to a minimum," Stacey said, frowning. "And Chad and I are trying—our New Year's resolution was to stop sleeping around."

"Stacey, those things are notorious for not working out," I said hesitantly.

"We're trying," Stacey repeated with a sigh.

"Stella—about Calum," Karen started. "There are other fish in the sea."

"Girls! I've told you that Calum and I—"

"Are just friends?" Quinn finished, cocking a brow. "Stella, you that but refuse to see anyone else."

"I haven't met anyone I'd want to date," I responded easily. "And Jordan is just a friend, even more so than Calum."

"Just don't end up an old maid," Karen joked.

"At least I won't be old maid that doesn't know the companionship of a man," I said, winking. That caused laughter to reign for a few minutes until we moved onto the next topic, then another, then another, all the way until late in the night when we finally decided that it was time to rest.

In all seriousness marriage wasn't really a concern for me. My father always knew that he'd make less than my mother, and my mother knew it too. "He was sweet and supportive," she had told me. "Maybe our love isn't fiery or passionate, but I love him."

It wasn't that my father's family wasn't rich—it was that he wasn't going to be bringing home hundreds of millions, but my mother didn't mind. "Michael William Reyes is worth more than a price tag," she said one evening, tipsy from anniversary champagne.

On better, less alcohol-impaired days, she was more practical than sentimental, noting that he has brought home a few billion from founding pharmaceutical companies and selling them. "I don't care who you marry," she had told me once. "Just make sure he's worthy— justify your marriage and I'll approve it."

And so I thought the justification would come.

---

Scrolling through my feed on my phone, I paused to like one of Abigail's pictures with a self-designed dress captioned "Feelin' polka today." Over seven thousand likes—Abigail was doing well.

She had recently contacted the clique, telling us about how she was launching her own brand in June of this year. Abigail had mentioned coming back to America for the summer to promote her name and Quinn and urged her to try to stop by—to which she had agreed.

"I can't wait to see you all again!" She had shrieked over the phone, her english already showing signs of her years in France. "It's been too long since I've last seen you all—almost two years!"

"It has—Quinn and Stacey are already freaking out," I had told her. Stacey hadn't gone to school with Abigail, having entered the ring only in high school, but the two had instantly hit it off during Abigail's first visit—unsurprising considering that their personalities and interests were so similar.

"I miss you all so much," she had told me nostalgically before brightening again. "When I see you all again, you'd better share all the gossip I've missed!"

Shooting her a quick message—"Bring the catalogue! LOVE the dress btw"—I stretched my arms out and started thinking about dinner. Take-out? Charades episode isn't out until Tuesday, which was two whole days from now, so I'd have to start a new show...

La-La-La-PICK-UP-THE-PHONE-STE—

My ringtone sang out in Stacey and Quinn's voices—something they recorded without my knowledge Freshman year in Uni that I never got around to changing.

Calum my love

Huh—need to change that.

"Hello?" I asked, sitting up.

"Stells! Wanna go out for dinner?" Calum's voice asked. "I got us a reservation at Non Solo Pane, so I'll come pick you up now."

"Sounds good," I said with a wry smile. "What's the point of asking permission after you make the reservation?"

"Just to make sure," Calum responded, the smile obvious in his voice. "I'll be there in twenty."

"M'kay," I replied, hanging up. Making my way to the closet, I picked out a semi-formal outfit—a black chiffon bead-trim cocktail dress—for the low-key Italian bistro and headed towards the shower. Five minutes in and out, and I was drying my hair with the hairdryer. Curls or no curls? Curls—simply, voluminous ones that Quinn liked to do for me.

"Like a Queen," She'd say. "Or a regal princess that's well-versed in the ways of the world."

The doorbell rang as I was putting on my favorite grey flats, and Calum's beaming face greeted me upon opening the door.

"Stunning, per usual," he complimented, bowing and kissing my hand. "This way, mademoiselle"

"E 'italiano, signore," I corrected, curtsying demurely before following him down the stairs. "You know it's been three months since our last dinner together?"

"I know," he replied, a small smile on his face. "There's been a lot going on in my life."

"Should I be concerned?" I joked. Calum studied me for a second, silent before his car, before breaking out into a grin and opening the door for me..

"No," he said, sitting and starting the engine. "But you're going to have to sit through my rambling during dinner."

---

"You're the best Gianni!" Calum called after the goateed waiter. Non Solo Pane—Italian for 'not just bread'—was a quaint high-end bistro that we frequented since Calum and I both loved the black trumpet garganelli to pieces.

"So—you notice that our friends are hooking up left and right?" I asked, tasting the wine. Peach.

"Yeah, I noticed that," Calum replied, laughing. "It's strange that they're choosing now to hook up with each other, but I'm happy for them."

"Same," I agreed as Gianni reentered with the salad and baguettes.

"Bon Appétit," he said, flourishing a bow before retreating behind the curtain.

"Still one of my favorite restaurants," I approved, breaking off a piece of bread. "What do you think about Quinn and Tim?"

"You noticed too?" Calum said, frowning. "I'm so sorry—is Quinn freaked out? I told him to lay off trailing after her all the time, but—"

"Wait," I said, raising a hand. "Tim or Quinn? Because as far as I was concerned, this was a one-sided love: Quinn for Tim."

"I thought so too," Calum said, grinning. "Looks like we'll have to hook them up—can't have the two mooning after each other unawares."

"I can't believe I didn't notice that he liked her," I said, frowning before brightening up. "At least now we know."

"Yeah," Calum agreed, raising his glass to his lips just as his phone rang. "Hold on—let me get this."

"Don't leave me hanging!" I joked, sipping some more of the velvety wine as Calum gave me the 'OK' sign and ducked behind the curtain to take his call. Shuffling through my purse, I got my phone out to check the messages.

'Mom's sending me xtra designs again—U want?'— Quinni the Pooh

'U free for dinner? Feelin like steak 2nite'— Sex God

'Stella... call me'— Queen Stacey I

Stacey first—she sounds worried. 'Out 4 din right now—will call asap,' I typed back.

Opening the site to Quinn's blog, I scanned through the new clothes. Quinn ran a blog that showed off her designs and outfits, but the site also had unlisted pages for the purpose of sharing clothes with the clique. Deciding that I should do this contemplative shopping later, I shot her back a quick 'can't choose, all beaut. Will tell later.'

To Jordan I sent a blunt text: 'sorry—din with Cal tonite.' My phone pinged almost immediately.

'Isn't he dating Kim?'— Sex God

'Not to my knowledge,' I typed back, hitting send just as Calum walked back in.

"I see I'm not needed," he joked, looking at my phone. "Who's the lucky person who's got you so captivated?"

"Jordan," I said, rolling my eyes. "And you left me to my own devices, so I took liberty of that."

"So you did," he responded, sitting down and grinning at me. "So—anything new between you and Brooks?"

"Calum! God, nothing's up—we're good friends. That's all," I said as Gianni entered with a bowl—soup.

"A treat from the cook—your pasta will be right out," he explained, refilling the glasses with wine.

"Mm," Calum hummed, sampling the soup. "It's great."

"Agreed," I said, spooning more into my mouth. "Truffles?"

"Very good," Gianni said, smiling. "Black—elegant."

"Send my compliments to Tonio," I told the retreating man who waved to signal that he had heard me.

"So, do you like Brooks?" Calum asked, blue eyes meeting mine over the ivory-draped table.

"No," I replied, dabbing my mouth with the napkin. "He's cute at times, but boys like him..."

"Don't get hurt, Stells," Calum said, pausing before breaking out into a mischievous grin. "Is he up for threesomes?"

"Calum!" I said, protesting his crude jokes over dinner.

"Huh," he said, still grinning. "I thought that was every girl's dream."

"Ugh, please don't," I said, pouting. "I'm eating here!"

"Alright, mia signora," Calum said, bowing a little in jest. I rolled my eyes.

"So—how are things with Kimberly?" I asked, meeting his eyes now. "I told you my bedroom secrets."

"Fine," he said, swallowing. "Stells, to be honest..."

"What?" I asked, laughing awkwardly. "Calum, you're scaring me."

"Well, to be honest," he started slowly, testing the words out on his lips, "I think I'm going to ask her out."

Looking up, I realized that Calum seemed nervous—but that couldn't be right.

"Okay, sure," I said at last, pushing an olive around my plate idly. "Do you want my permission or something?"

"No—I just... I want your approval," Calum said, looking at me now. As my eyes shot up to meet his clear, sky blue eyes that weren't trained on me, I realized he was nervous. Calum Remington was nervous—nervous—about asking a girl he liked out.

"Calum, you don't need to ask me for such things," I told him earnestly, unsure of what to do. He'd never asked me for something like this, and I wasn't sure about how to respond. "Go for it—what's with the sudden hesitation? What happened to my balloon-headed, egoistical football jock?"

"I guess he's in love," Calum admitted, falling silent. My head spun as I tried to find something to say—that it was normal? That a relationship was a good change? That he needed to blow off some steam?

"Looks like I won't have to sneak around the boy's dormitories anymore then," I joked halfheartedly. Calum chucked as I raised my glass in a toast. "To you and Kimberly... and Tonio's stupendous pasta. Tell him, won't you Gianni?" I said as I toasted Calum, inhaling and choking a little on the wine.

For a moment, as my throat burned and my eyes welled with tears, there was a pause—a silence—before Calum offered me a clean napkin. And so dinner went on.

---

Author's note:

Hello lovelies—do you like that name? 'Cuz it sounds weird in my head.

Anywho, how did you like that awkward dinner? Vote and comment please—for my sake if not yours. I need feedback (and the ego boost, thank you very much).

Thanks for reading! Updates on Tuesdays!

—Littlewhims