Countdown Confessions: Chapter 2 - The Green-Eyed Monster

"The Highlands aren't for the faint of heart, Mark. And neither is she." The party is in full swing, and Cal’s patience is wearing thin. Watching Hallie navigate a sea of available bachelors is a special kind of torture he hadn't prepared for. When a "finance bro" gets a little too comfortable with his hand on Hallie’s waist, the rugged Scottish anchor finally snaps. Step into Cal’s head as he trades his "nice guy" mask for something much more possessive. The air on the balcony is freezing, but the tension between Cal and Hallie is about to reach its boiling point.

Chapter Two 

Callum 

The Green-Eyed Monster

The penthouse was exactly what I’d expected: too loud, too bright, and filled with the kind of people who looked like they’d been curated by an algorithm. The air smelled of expensive gin and desperate social climbing. Usually, I could tune it out. I’d grab a drink, find a corner, and wait for the clock to run out.

But tonight, the only thing I could tune into was the woman currently standing three feet away from me, laughing at something a tall, blonde lad in a slim-fit suit was saying.

Hallie looked incredible. No, incredible was too small a word. In that emerald silk, she looked like a dream I didn't want to wake up from. Every time she moved, the fabric shimmered, clinging to the curves I’d spent ten years pretending I hadn't memorized. I’d spent the entire car ride over here trying to keep my eyes on the road, but the scent of her perfume, something floral and dangerous, was filling the cab, making my head swim.

"Aye, Cal, focus," I muttered to myself, taking a deep pull of my scotch. The burn in my throat was nothing compared to the burn in my chest as the blonde lad reached out and touched Hallie’s arm.

It was a casual touch. A "we're having a great time" touch. But I wanted to snap his fingers like dry kindling.

I knew I was being unreasonable. I was her "best friend." I was the one who was supposed to be her wingman, the one who vetted the guys and made sure she got home safe. But the "Safety Pact" felt like a cruel joke tonight. How could I be her safety net when I was the one who wanted to pull her under?

"You okay, Cal? You look like you’re ready to start a bar fight," a voice said beside me.

It was Sarah, an ex-girlfriend from three years ago who still popped up at these parties like a recurring bad penny. She was looking at me with that knowing smirk that always irritated me.

"Just not a fan of the music," I said, my Scottish accent thick and heavy. I didn't bother trying to smooth it out for her.

"Is that right? Or is it because Hallie is talking to Mark?" Sarah nodded toward Hallie and the blonde lad. "He’s a partner at the firm. Very successful. Very... available."

"Good for him," I clipped, my eyes never leaving Hallie.

I remembered when we were twenty-one. Hallie had just started her first job, and she’d been so nervous she couldn't eat. I’d brought over a box of donuts and sat on her fire escape with her for four hours, just talking about nothing until she finally laughed. I’d known then that she was special. I just hadn't known that "special" would eventually turn into "essential."

I watched as Mark, the partner, the success, the available lad, leaned in closer to Hallie, his hand now resting on the small of her back. Right where my knuckles had grazed her skin only an hour ago.

The low-voltage current she’d mentioned, the pressure in the air—it was slamming into me now. I couldn't stay in the corner anymore. I couldn't be the observer.

"Excuse me, Sarah," I said, not waiting for her response.

I moved through the crowd, my shoulders bumping against people who didn't matter. The closer I got to Hallie, the more the noise of the party seemed to fade into a dull hum. The only thing that was clear was her. The way her gold hoops caught the light. The way she bit her lip when she was trying not to laugh too hard.

"Hallie," I said as I reached them. I didn't look at Mark. I didn't care about Mark.

She turned, and for a split second, I saw a flash of relief in her eyes. It was gone as quickly as it appeared, replaced by that playful, best-friend mask she wore so well.

"Cal! You survived the bar," she teased, her eyes sparkling. "Mark, this is Callum. My best friend."

Best friend. The words felt like a slap.

"Nice to meet you, Callum," Mark said, extending a hand. He had a firm grip, the kind people used when they were trying to assert dominance. "I was just telling Hallie about the trip I’m planning to the Highlands next summer. Since you’re from there, maybe you have some recommendations?"

I looked at his hand, then up at his face. I could feel my burr getting even thicker, the rugged edge of my voice coming out in full force.

"The Highlands aren't for the faint of heart, Mark," I said, my voice low and steady. "Lots of mist, lots of bogs, and the midges will eat you alive if you’re not careful. It’s not exactly a luxury tour."

Hallie suppressed a snort, and I felt a small surge of triumph.

"Well, I’m sure I can handle it," Mark said, his smile faltering slightly. He turned back to Hallie. "Anyway, as I was saying, there’s this great little place in Portree—"

"Actually, Mark, I think Hallie needs a refill," I interrupted, stepping into her space. I wasn't being subtle. I was marking my territory, and I didn't care who saw it. "And the 'Safety Pact' is calling."

Hallie looked at me, her eyebrows raised. "The pact? Cal, it’s only ten o'clock."

"It’s never too early for a check-in," I said, my hand finding the small of her back. The silk was even softer than I remembered. "Come on. Let’s go get some air."

I led her away from Mark, away from Sarah, and toward the large glass doors that led to the balcony. I didn't stop until we were outside, the cold winter air hitting us like a physical blow. The city stretched out below us, a carpet of lights that seemed to go on forever.

"Cal, what was that?" Hallie asked, shivering slightly as the wind caught her hair.

I didn't answer right away. I took off my coat and draped it over her shoulders, the heavy wool swallowing her small frame. She looked up at me, her eyes wide and searching.

"You were being a bit... combustible," she whispered, using my own word against me.

"I told you," I said, my voice barely audible over the sound of the wind. "I’m an Aries. And seeing that lad put his hands on you... it didn't sit right with me."

"He was just being friendly, Cal."

"I don't care what he was being," I snapped, stepping closer until she was backed up against the railing. "I’ve spent ten years being the 'friendly' one, Hallie. I’ve spent ten years watching you date idiots who didn't deserve a second of your time. And tonight... tonight I’m just not in the mood to play the part."

The silence on the balcony was different from the silence in her bedroom. It was colder, sharper. The countdown was ticking in my head, every second bringing us closer to midnight.

"Cal..." she breathed, her hand reaching out to touch my chest.

I caught her wrist, my thumb pressing against her pulse. It was racing. Just like mine.

"I’m glad I’m spending the last night of the year with you," I said, the words feeling like a confession. "But if you think I’m going to stand by and let some partner at a firm sweep you off your feet while I’m standing right here... you’ve got another thing coming."

I let go of her wrist, but I didn't move away. I couldn't. The "Just Friends" lane was gone, buried under years of longing and a night of pure, unadulterated jealousy.

"12:05," she reminded me, her voice trembling.

"Aye," I said, looking out at the city. "12:05. But a lot can happen in two hours, Hallie. A lot can change."

The words hung between us, sharper than the biting wind whipping off the Hudson. I didn't move away, and neither did she. In fact, she leaned in, her forehead coming to rest against the center of my chest. I could feel her shivering, a delicate vibration that had nothing to do with the temperature and everything to do with the tectonic plates of our friendship finally shifting.

I reached out, my hands moving almost of their own accord to gather the edges of my heavy wool coat—the one still draped over her shoulders—and pulling them tight around her. I didn't let go once she was bundled. Instead, I kept my hands on her upper arms, tethering her to me.

"You’re freezing," I murmured, my burr dropping into that low, private register I only ever used when it was just the two of us.

"I don't care," she whispered into my shirt. "I don't want to go back in there, Cal. I don't want to talk to Mark, or pretend to care about the firm, or act like I’m not hyper-aware of exactly where your hands are right now."

I let out a breath I’d been holding since I saw her in that green dress back at the apartment. "Good. Because I’m about one 'accidental' touch away from losing my head entirely."

I shifted, my back taking the brunt of the wind so she was shielded by the corner of the stone pillar. The party was a blur of muffled bass and moving shadows behind the glass doors, but out here, the air was crystalline. I looked down at the top of her head, at the curls I’d teased her about earlier, and felt a surge of protectiveness so fierce it made my teeth ache.

For ten years, I’d been the "safe guy." I’d been the one who held the door, the one who brought the donuts, the one who kept his distance because the thought of losing her was worse than the agony of wanting her. But tonight, watching that lad Mark put his hand on her... something snapped. The "safe guy" had been buried under a decade of suppressed hunger.

"Cal?" she looked up, her eyes wide and dark in the moonlight. "What happens at 12:05? When we go back to your place?"

I ran my hand up from her arm, my thumb grazing the sensitive skin of her neck, just below the gold hoop of her earring. I watched her breath hitch, watched the way her pulse jumped under my touch.

"The safety pact was meant to protect us from the party, Hallie," I said, my voice sounding like gravel under a boot. "But I don't think there's anything left to protect us from each other. At 12:05, the world turns over. And I think I’m done being the anchor that stays at the bottom while you’re out there drifting. I think I’d rather be the one who finally pulls you in."

I leaned down, my face so close to hers I could feel the heat radiating off her skin. I didn't kiss her—not yet. The countdown wasn't over, and I wanted the anticipation to burn. I wanted her to feel every second of those two hours. I wanted her to know that when I finally claimed her, it wouldn't be because of a calendar change. It would be because she was mine. Always had been.

"Two hours," I whispered against her temple. "Two hours to decide if you’re ready for the 'Just Friends' lane to be closed for good. Because once we leave this balcony, Hallie... I’m not going back."

She didn't pull away. She didn't even hesitate. She just reached up, her fingers sliding into the hair at the nape of my neck, holding me there in the cold, dark silence.

"Then I guess we’d better make sure we don't miss the fireworks," she breathed.

I pulled her flush against me, my arms wrapping around her with a possessiveness that would have terrified me yesterday. But tonight, it was the only thing that felt real. We stood there, two shadows against the New York skyline, waiting for the clock to hit zero and the world to explode.

Come back tomorrow for another chapter

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First Edition: December 2025

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