“I can’t believe you’ve turned into some mystical, impossible to get a hold of, figment of my imagination,” Samantha whined, wrapping her arms around Callum and hugging him close.

“Are you imagining this?” he teased.

She swatted at him and feigned a glare that quickly turned into a bright smile.

“I saw you last month,” Callum reminded her.

“You came by for an hour. That doesn’t even count.”

“I’ve been busy.”

Samantha grabbed him by the biceps and shook him, tilting her head down and looking at him quite seriously. “Nothing is more important than friends, Callum.”

He licked his lips and gave her a slight nod.

Lately, there had been something much more important than his friends. Someone, rather, and that someone had been doing nothing but putting space between them since he’d gotten here. Callum wasn’t even sure why Jack had bothered moving to California.

“What’s going on up there?” Samantha squinted at him and searched his face for clues.

“Can we talk about it over some wine?”

She squealed. “Always. Did you want to go to the cemetery?”

Drinking in the cemetery was something they normally reserved for summer nights, and it was a little bright out considering it was still well before lunch.

“It’s eleven,” he reminded her.

“Soda cups, sweetheart.” She shook her head like he should know better.

Callum followed her down the block to the corner store where she paid for a generic bottle of Malbec and Callum stifled his shock that the store even had anything beyond a red blend. She unscrewed the cap, awesome…screw top, on the counter in front of the register and dumped it into two large fountain drink cups.

“Be safe, little lady,” the man behind the register told her as he tossed the empty wine bottle into the trash.

“I’m a good girl, Wills.”

Callum scoffed and followed Samantha out of the store and down the block the other way toward the cemetery. She winded her way through the mausoleums and marble statues, finding a marker near a bubbling pond under a vine-covered gazebo.

“You must come here often,” Callum observed the easy way Samantha settled onto the grass.

“It’s nice here.”

He couldn’t deny the peacefulness of the expansive cemetery that was plopped right across from a movie studio in the middle of a city. It was like stepping into the past. Even Samantha beside him, with her brown dress and simple shoes, looked like she’d walked here right from the forties.

“So, spill,” she demanded, puckering her lips around the straw and taking a drink of her wine.

“What?”

“Who is he?”

“Who is who?”

“Are we really going to do this?” she asked him incredulously.

Callum took a sip of wine, finding it wasn’t awful. He took a larger sip through the narrow straw then nestled the cup beside him in the grass.

“I met someone. But I don’t know. It’s not really a big deal.”

“Lies.”

“I met him online, and now he’s here.”

“What?” Samantha shouted at him. “You invited someone from the internet to meet you in person?”

“It’s 2018, Samantha. It’s not an uncommon thing. But to answer your question, no, I didn’t.”

“What then?” she asked, her eyes huge.

“He showed up.”

“Sounds like an axe-murderer to me,” she suggested grimly.

Callum shook his head, remembering when he’d had the same worries. “No. I found out he actually knows my boss, which is weird, but okay, I suppose.”

Samantha eyed him tentatively while she waited for him to continue.

“I like him, and things were going really good and then some stuff happened, and things were better again, kind of, and then he just showed up here. Itt was awesome, but he’s staying with my boss and not me, and I just assumed that if he came here to be with me, he’d want to be with me, you know?”

Even as he said it, Callum recognized the contradiction of his words. Jack was right. He knew it and he hated it. Callum had said he wanted one thing, and then what he wanted had changed and he’d never said so. Jack was trying to do the right thing by giving him the space he’d always said he wanted, even as he was growing to resent it.

“He’s not Ian.”

Callum’s eyes snapped up and locked on Samantha as she took a drink of wine and shrugged apologetically at him.

“I know you don’t like to talk about him, but what Ian did was supremely fucked up. Most people don’t do things like that to people and it’s not fair to act like everyone else will.”

“You’re right. I don’t want to talk about him.”

“You know he abused you, don’t you?”

“He didn’t,” Callum protested.

“Not physically, no,” Samantha corrected quietly. “So why did he do what he did?”

“Because I wasn’t good enough. I wasn’t the kind of person he wanted to be with,” Callum reminded her, the words sticking to his tongue.

“Callum, you’re perfect. Then and now.”

“I thought I was perfect,” Mark said with a whistle, walking into the gazebo and dropping a bag of sandwiches at their feet. He leaned down and gave Samantha a kiss and situated himself across from them on the grass.

“You’re annoying. Callum is perfect.”

“I can take these craft service sandwiches away if that’s what you want,” Mark taunted.

Callum reached out and snatched the bag, grateful for a change of topic. “Don’t you dare. Your girlfriend is trying to get me drunk on wine in a cemetery.”

“It’s easy to let the blonde hair and blue eyes fool you, but she really is a menace.”

Samantha flipped Mark off and took a long, dramatic drink of her wine.

Callum unwrapped a sandwich and crumpled the wrapper, tucking it between the bend in his leg so it didn’t blow away.

“So, I was telling Callum that Ian was abusive,” Samantha picked up right where she’d left off.

Callum sighed and set the sandwich on his knee.

“Well, obviously,” Mark agreed.

“He has a new boyfriend,” Samantha continued.

“Ian?”

“No, Callum.”

“You what?” Mark directed his shocked expression toward Callum. “Since when?”

“April,” he answered, managing to interject himself into a conversation that was about him anyway.

“Why didn’t you say anything?” Mark pushed.

“I’m afraid it’s not serious.”

“He moved across the country to be with him,” Samantha added.

“What’s his name?” Mark prodded, taking a huge bite of one of the sandwiches.

“Jack,” he whispered, the name sending a tingle through his spine.

“And this Jack moved to LA for you?” Mark asked.

“He says he did.”

“Well, did he or not?”

“I don’t fucking know, dude, okay? He came out here, but he’s, like, not wanting to be with me with me. He’s looking for an apartment of his own and stuff.”

“That sounds pretty normal and respectful to me,” Mark offered.

“Very much not like Ian,” Samantha chimed in.

Callum chewed on his thumbnail.

Jack wasn’t Ian. Rationally, Callum knew this. Jack wasn’t the asshole Callum had gone out with the night before he set up his online profile, and Jack wasn’t anyone he had ever known before. Realistically, Jack wasn’t like anyone he’d ever know again.

“He’s really handsome,” Callum muttered, a blush creeping into his cheeks.

“More,” Samantha demanded.

“He has brown hair, kinda scruffy.” Callum messed his own hair around his face. “Brown eyes. He has his PhD.”

“Holy shit,” Mark whistled.

“He’s a doctor?”

“He’s a physical therapist,” Callum corrected. “He just got a job at Cedars.”

“That’s impressive,” Samantha said with a nod.

“We, uhm, he took me on a date last night.”

“Where?”

“The observatory. We had a picnic and then we looked at the stars.” He closed his eyes, remembering the way Jack’s hand felt against his chest while he explained the galaxies and constellations.

“That is so romantic,” Samantha sighed dreamily.

“It was just different before he came,” Callum tried to explain.

"Well, of course it was. You’re not as shiny and new now,” Mark countered Callum’s unhappiness with the suggestion.

“Thanks.”

Callum pulled the sandwich wrapper out from his lap and unwrinkled it, smoothing the paper and wrapping the sandwich back up. He hadn’t taken a bite.

“You’re both getting to know the real parts of yourself now. It’s like dating. He’s dating you.”

“He said the same thing,” Callum scoffed.

“Well, he’s right,” Mark said gently.

“Do you at least see where I’m coming from?” Callum asked. His shoulders were tense and he knew they weren’t ganging up on him even though that was how it felt.

“Of course,” Samantha soothed. “You had all this focus and dedication from him online because your interactions were centered around each other. But he’s here in person now, and you both have jobs and rent and obligations, and there’s other things getting in the way. That doesn’t make anything less serious, though.”

“I’m being ridiculous, aren’t I?” Callum questioned.

He was met with silence and looked up to find Mark and Samantha nodding at him in agreement.

“You need to have patience and trust. Anything worth having is worth waiting for,” Samantha promised. “Besides, I’m sure this is a huge adjustment for him too. He moved to a new city! He’s starting over.”

“He has friends here; it’s not like he’s a stranger.”

Samantha rolled her eyes. “You know exactly what I’m talking about.”

“I know,” Callum sighed.

“Have you told him about Ian?” Mark asked.

Callum shook his head.

“You should.”

“He’s in the past.” Callum rolled his neck from side to side trying to stave off the building tension in his bones.

“Is he, though?”

“If anything it’ll help him understand why you get upset about things sometimes,” Samantha told him.

“Can we be done talking about Ian?” Callum stretched his legs out and popped the lid off his wine to take a full drink.

“We can be. But you shouldn’t be.” Mark said, balling up his sandwich wrapper and tossing it in the bag. He stood and stretched, wiping loose grass off of his pants. “I need to get back to work.”

“I’ll walk you,” Samantha said, mirroring Mark’s movements and brushing her hands down the pleats of her dress. “Do you want to come, Callum?”

He shook his head and took another drink. “No, thanks for lunch, though. And for talking.”

“That’s what friends are for,” she said with a smile. “So be a friend, not a stranger.”

Callum laughed, “Got it, boss.”

Mark threw a wave over his shoulder and took Samantha’s hand, leading her back down the winding garden pathway and out of the cemetery.

Callum lay down on the grass and closed his eyes; the sparks against the back of his eyelids looked like fireworks and stars, and his thoughts drifted back to Jack. He was supposed to call him when he got done with lunch, and he hated that. It was stupid. Jack was down the street from his apartment at Landon and Verity’s and Callum was just supposed to call?

Was he such a burden that Jack didn’t want to see him in person?

His insecurities mounted again, and he had a sharp, painful moment of self-loathing. He hadn’t felt this way when he knew Jack was in New York. Things had been how they were because that was how they had to be. They didn’t need to be that way anymore, though, and Callum resented that they were.

He pulled his phone out of his pocket and opened the Skype app, ringing Jack, who answered quickly.

“Hey there, kitten,” Jack’s face came into focus, his hair messy and damp.

“Hi, Daddy.” Callum closed his eyes and leaned his head to the side.

“Where are you at?”

“The cemetery.”

“Whatever for?”

“I had lunch with Samantha and Mark. It’s nice here,” he informed Jack. “They do movies on the weekends. I’ll bring you sometime. If you want.”

“That sounds lovely, kitten.”

Callum took a deep breath. “Can I come see you?”

“Is everything okay?” Jack’s eyebrows squished together and he leaned closer to the camera.

Callum blinked and his eyelashes felt wet. “Yeah. I mean, I’ll be fine. Uhm, honestly, I could use a hug, I think.”

“Then come and get one, kitten. I’ll text you the address.”

“Thanks,” Callum whispered.

Jack ended the call. Callum’s phone buzzed with a text. He stood up and keyed the address into his maps program on the walk back to Samantha and Mark’s apartment. He tossed the unfinished wine into a trash can and drove back to Pasadena.