Song for the start of the chapter!

Callum drove up to me in his jeep, rolling down the windows even though it was freezing. "Want to get out of here?" he asked, mischief playing in his eyes the next day.

I nodded at him, eager to get into the warm car. I got into his car like we planned, even though he was early and hadn't been waiting long.

Without wasting a second, he drove off with music blasting some song I had never heard before. After a few minutes of silence, he turned the music down. "So I was thinking, questions first, then I was wondering, could you help paint my niece's bedroom?"

Now it made sense why he wanted to go to his place. I couldn't help but feel a tad bit disappointed since this wasn't a date. I should have known that he wasn't interested in me since he wasn't interested in anyone else in this school. He just wanted to write about me. "So you just wanted me to work for you," I said with a forced chuckle.

He smiled slyly, not catching my disappointment. "Maybe just a little."

At least he owned up to his plan. He said it so causally that I couldn't be mad at him. "Ok. Sure. Why not," I said as he pulled up into a long driveway that ended to a large house. looming over us.

Callum spun the wheel, taking the car to a smaller house close to the massive one. He turned off the car as he pointed to the large house. "This is my dad's place," he then pointed to the smaller one, "and this is my brother's place."

With a nod, I followed his lead, going to the smaller house, walking through the unlocked front door that had an eerie silence. Not even the floorboards creaked as we walked through the hall, deeper into the house. "Everyone's out. But I wanted to surprise them with the painting. My niece has been asking for a more girly room forever, but no one has the time, so I made time."

That one statement made my heart melt. I started making mental note of who Callum was, so I would have to add caring to it.

Callum walked into the kitchen and rummaged through the fridge. "Want something to eat?"

I shook my head, not hungry.

He pulled out an apple, biting into it as he looked at me in silence, thinking about something. "I heard a rumor that you have an eating disorder. But the thing is, I don't think you do."

I frowned at him, not liking this conversation. Once again, he knew a little too much for my liking.

He smiled slightly, teasing me. "So, what do you have?"

I shook my head, not wanting to share since I already shared too much with him. "Nothing."

He eyed my carefully, then sighed as if knowing there was no point in pressing the topic, however I could see curiosity in his eyes. "Everyone is entitled to secrets. It's not my place to push," he said finally as he poured himself a glass of juice.

His comment floored me since I never met someone that was ok with secrets. At the rink, people pushed you until you spilled everything and if you didn't spill, they would guess, making rumors of destruction. That was why I crafted the lie about the eating disorder because with that, I could control the rumor.

"So, let's talk about your skate," he said as he got out his laptop and put it on the marble island in the middle of the kitchen. "Tell me how you felt leading up to your short program."

I thought about getting into the ice, nervous, but when the music started, it felt right to me. "When I skate, I'm a different person. I feel more confident and capable. I got out there with one goal, to show them what I had."

"Do you feel like you accomplished that?"

I nodded. "With the short program, yes."

"And how about the long program?" he eyed me as if knowing what happened.

I bit my lip with a frown. He was waiting for this. This was what he really wanted to talk about. He wanted all the gossip about his article and my long program was were he would get it. "It was ok. Because I didn't eat enough, I didn't have enough energy to make it through the program. That's why I fainted."

He nodded as he typed it all down. "Ok, but what did you feel when you were on the ice. Tell me about that," he asked, not caring about the reasons that everyone else seemed to care about.

Just when I thought I was getting to understand him, he would pull a move like this. It was as if he didn't even care about my fainting spell, like that was not the important piece of detail he was looking for. But if it wasn't the most important, then what was?

I felt terrible, that was it. "I, um, I just didn't feel like I gave it my all," I said, stumbling over my words.

"Are you disappointed?"

Of course, I was. I should have done so many things differently, but I couldn't take any of that back now. "Nationals will be different. I'm working on my eating disorder and come end of January, I'll be ready to give it my all."

"That is only a little over two months away, do you feel like you can be ready?"

"I'm sure of it."

"Ok. I think I got all I need for that snippet. I want to question you before nationals, then afterwards as well if that's ok. It'll be like an episode approach."

"Sounds cool," I said as I heard a door open, then close causing Callum to frown. For a second, he looked scared, as if he was back on the ice again, which made me realize Callum wasn't only afraid of ice, he was afraid of whatever walked into the house.

"Callum," a deep voice rang out.

"Dad, I'm here," Callum called out to him, although I could see he didn't want to make a sound.

I didn't have to be Sherlock Holmes to see that Callum was terrified of his father.

Walking into the room was Callum's father, who stood with confidence like Callum over us. His broad shoulders suggested he spent hours in the gym when he wasn't working. He looked at me and gave a nod. "Hello. I didn't know Callum was bringing anyone over today."

"This is Ellis, she's the figure skater I'm writing the spread about."

"I hope my son isn't forcing you to reveal any deep secrets you have hidden," he said with a smirk. "He has a habit of that."

I shifted in my seat, feeling uncomfortable as the words of Paulo came back into my mind. 'Callum is a monster'. I didn't want to believe that, but his father made me think otherwise for a second, making me want to keep my distance from the both of them.

"Now that boy has a gift for getting anything out of anyone," his father said proudly, as if it was some accomplishment.

My frown deepened, worried that I already said too much to him.

"Ok, dad, what do you want?" Callum sighed, wanting him to leave.

Suddenly, his father's chipper mood got serious. "Don't get snippy with me, boy," he snapped, causing Callum to shrink in his seat in silence. "Where's Allyson and Parker?"

"Allyson took an extra shift at work and Parker, isn't he at the office?"

His father frowned as if he didn't know that fact. "Ok. I have to get going. I'll be going out to eat with some clients. Dinner will be on your own tonight." He then turned on his heels and walked away. "It was nice to meet you, Ellis. I hope the article doesn't rip into you too much."

I sat in silence as I heard the front door open, then close again. I turned to Callum, who had a frown on his face. No doubt wishing that moment didn't happen. As much as I should have ran away then and there, I didn't, instead, I put my hand on his and squeezed it. Callum was afraid of his father and it was clear that he was a jerk, but there was more to his story. "Your father is..."

"A dick," he said, cutting me off.

It was as if he read my mind. "I would not say that."

"But you were thinking about it. Hell, Ellis, I try so hard to avoid him when I'm with anyone, but he purposely comes to find me," he fumed, standing up from his seat as he ran his hands through his hair, pushing his slicked-back hair out of place. Pieces of brown hair fell around his face, framing it perfectly, causing me to stare for a moment. What his father said really got under his skin. He was furious.

His father may have rubbed me the wrong way, but right now, Callum needed someone by his side. He was alone, and maybe he was often alone. But I wouldn't leave him, at least not like this.

Now it made sense why Callum was a blank canvas. He was protecting himself against his father and everyone else. Callum wasn't a monester, he just needed a friend, and I would be that, no matter what Paulo said. "I'm not going anywhere."

Callum stopped pacing around the large marble kitchen and looked at me as if he didn't hear me right. "He pushes people away from him and he does the same for me all the time. I hate him."

I shook my head. I may hate Garret but this was different. This was about family. Hate was such a strong word for his father. Callum couldn't hate him. "Don't say that."

"But I mean it."

He needed a distraction. He was still fuming. "How about we paint?"

He let out a breath and nodded.

I smiled lightly, happy that it was at least a step in the right direction. "Great," I said as I took a step and felt the world go dark for a second. I heard my name called out, causing me to open my eyes to see Callum holding me.

"What was that?" he asked with concern as he put me upright.

I felt queasy. I was going to be sick. I gagged, but nothing came up from my empty stomach. "Eating disorder. Didn't eat enough I guess." I lied to him.

He eyed me, not believing me. "Are you sure you want to paint?"

What he didn't know was that I needed a distraction as much as he did. "Yes."

Within minutes, we found ourselves in a small room already prepped to be painted. Callum opened the cans of paint and mixed the light pink color as I looked at my nice clothing, trying to figure out how to keep it clean. As much as I wanted to help, I wasn't dressed for it. "Do you have some old clothes I can use?"

He stopped mixing with a nod, then without wasting a second, took off his shirt.

"What are you doing?" I asked as I felt my cheeks blush as I watched him undress in front of me.

He smirked at me, teasing me as if this was his plan all along. "You need a t-shirt, right?" he asked coolly as he handed me the shirt he wore.

My eyes glanced at his defined smooth muscles, before looking away as if I was ashamed that I looked in the first place. I took his warm shirt and said, "Turn around."

He nodded with amusement, playing in his eyes as he turned around.

I quickly took off my shirt and replaced it with his. The shirt was oversized, but it seemed to fit me in all the right ways and it wrapped around me like a hug that I needed so badly. "Ok, you can look."

He smiled as he turned to face me as he stared in silence for a moment, thinking about something that I couldn't read. Finally, he spoke up, "it looks good on you. I guess I should get a shirt for myself now." He chuckled as he looked at his shirtless self, then he walked out of the room.

"Please do," I said with a smirk, although I rather look at his shirtless body a little longer.

A second later, he walked back in, slipping a black T-shirt over his head as he walked over to the paint can and poured it into the tray. He then handed me a fuzzy white roller as if I knew what to do next.

I took it and dipped it into the paint. "I hope you know, I've never painted before," I said as I was about to put the brush on the wall.

"Oh no, you didn't," Callum said as he took the roller from me.

I reached for it with a frown, upset that he took it but he moved it further from me. "Give it back."

"I'm going to give you a lesson on painting."

"I don't need a lesson. It's easy, right?" I pouted as I put my hands on my hips, wincing, forgetting the large bruise under my clothes from a fall I took that day.

Callum, too busy to notice me wince, looked at the roller with confidence as if about to go into some long lecture, making me realize we would be here forever if I didn't stop him. He held the roller in front of me, about to speak, until I pushed the roller into his shirt, making a solid paint line across it.

He frowned as he looked at his black shirt with a pink stripe down it.

His distraught look caused me to smile. After all, it was just paint, and it was just a T-shirt. He looked at the paint again, as he tried to figure out how it happened, which caused me to laugh harder than had in a while.

"Ellis, this isn't funny," Callum said as he looked at the paint dripped all over his shirt.

I covered my mouth as if it would make it better. "I'm sorry. But it's just, light pink is such an excellent color on you."

He put the rolled down into the tray, then dipped it into the paint again as he looked at the roller, then at me with a smirk. "Let's see how good it looks on you," he said as he smeared color on my shirt.

"Hey," I protested.

"What are you going to do about it?"

I shrugged. At least this wasn't my shirt.

He closed the gap between us as he put the roller back on the tray and smirked again, with mischief in his eyes. My heart was practically racing out of my chest, waiting for what he would do next. "That's what I thought," he said, pulling me close before kissing me.

His lips on mine were unplanned, and it shocked me, but I didn't push him away. Instead, I kissed him back, grabbing his pant pockets and pulled him into me as I ran my hand through his slicked-back hair.

I didn't want him to stop, but as soon as it started, he pulled out, slightly out of breath. He smiled at me. "Damn, Ellis."

There was a few seconds of silence as Callum looked into my eyes and I his. We wanted to talk, but we let our eyes do all the talking. As he looked at me, I realized Callum knew me more than most. He could read me without words, something that not even my family could do. There was something so natural between us and I didn't want it to end.

"Date me," he said firmly.

I shook my head. I just broke up with Garret, so it would look too fast. Callum had a reputation and I barely knew him. I wasn't sure if it was safe to dive into something with a boy that Paulo told me was trouble.

"Please, El, date me," he begged, as if I was the air he needed. He grabbed my hands and looked sincere.

I mulled on his words for a second, letting them eat into me. "Ok."

He smiled, then kissed me again but this time, it was gentle, pure, kind.

Breaking us from our moment was a ring on my phone. I looked at the caller ID. Mom. She never called unless it was important. Normally, she just sent a text in the odd hours of the day. I didn't want to answer it, but back in my mind told me I needed to so I did, answering it with a 'hello'.

"Ellis, we got the tests back," mom said over the phone as her voice shook slightly.

There was emotion in her voice that I hadn't heard before. There was something wrong.

"They think that its thyroid cancer," she said, barely able to whisper the last part of that sentence.

I felt like someone punched my stomach. Cancer. The word repeated in my mind like a broken record. I had seen enough movies about cancer kids to know I might as well give up skating now. I dropped my phone, hearing it hit the carpeted ground. I was speechless as fear overtook me, knowing what this could mean for me.

"El? Ellis?" mom's voice rang out, but I didn't have the energy to pick up the phone. I didn't want to, in fact, I just wanted to rewind all of this so I didn't have to hear what she just told me.

Callum looked at me with concern, knowing something wasn't right. Without waiting for a second, he quickly picked up the phone and put it on speaker. "Hi, this is Callum Weeks, um, Ellis is here," he said to the phone.

My eyes well up with tears. I was going to nationals. I was on top of the world, but the world beneath me was falling apart. "What do we do now?"

"We have to go to the hospital to talk about more tests."

"Ok." I was going to be sick.

"El, shoot, I have to get this call. It's the doctor," mom said, then the line went dead.

I shook my head as my world crumbled even more. I dropped to my knees but not before Callum caught me. I held onto him tightly, I didn't want to let him go. For a second, he was the only one grounding me.

His thin but yet strong arms held onto me as if that was what they were meant to do all this time. "It'll be ok." He said firmly as if he knew that for a fact.

I nodded, although I didn't know if that was true. We said nothing for minutes, but we didn't need to. Callum knew I just needed someone beside him. Finally, I looked up at him and his dark green eyes. I couldn't put him into this. We couldn't date, not now. "I changed my mind. I don't want to date you."

There was hurt in his eyes. "This doesn't change the way I feel for you."

I shook my head. I didn't want to drag him through what I was dealing with. "It would be easier if we just kept this as friends," I said, not wanting to throw him into this more than he already was.

He shook his head as if I was dead wrong. "No. I still stand by wanting to date you."

I was giving him an out. I was pushing him away, but he wouldn't budge. He was making this harder than I wanted it to be. It was clear now that I was lying about the eating disorder, but he wasn't mad.

There was silence.

"Want to get some ice cream?" he asked finally.

I nodded. That was exactly what I needed.