The Coincidence of Callie and Kayden

fun.”
     
    She gaped at me. “What? You’re not coming in?”
     
    I shook my head with a small smile on my lips. “I should have never been here to begin with.”
     
    She threatened me with everything she could think of, before getting out of the car. I drove away, picked up my bag from the house, and headed back to the campus, feeling a weight lift from my shoulders.
     
    “You’re right. I am kind of slow.” I pick up my shoes and drop them into the closet. “Hey, did you see Callie at all while I was gone? I found an earring in your truck and I think it’s hers.”
     
    He’s quiet for a moment and then shifts in his bed. “I have to ask you something about her. Just how much do you like her?”
     
    I shrug, because I really don’t know. “She’s nice and interesting.” I shrug again, conflicted. “Why are you asking me such a fucking weird question?”
     
    “Well, tonight, I ran into Seth out in the parking lot,” he says. “And he informed me that Callie found out you were at homecoming with Daisy.”
     
    I grab my jacket and head for the closet to get a hanger, my steps slowing down as I realize what it means. “Did he say if she was upset?”
     
    “ He sure was,” Luke replies. “He yelled at me for like ten minutes.”
     
    I insert the ends of the hanger through the sleeves of the jacket. “I should probably go talk to her.” I grab a t-shirt and some pajama bottoms from my bag and walk back to the closet to change so Luke doesn’t see my hideous scars.
     
    “Yeah, good luck with that.” Luke collapses back onto the bed, yawning. “Because I’m pretty sure Seth isn’t going to let you anywhere near her ever again.”
     
    My heart constricts inside my chest at the idea. Even though I keep telling myself to stay away from her, it hurts thinking that it might actually happen. I admit the truth about my feelings for the first time in my life. I actually have them. And I have them for Callie. Now what I’m supposed to do with them I have no fucking idea.
     
     
     
    ***
     
     
     
    The next morning I wake up early because I can’t sleep. I have this reoccurring dream where I’m back at the pool house and my father is beating me. This time though, Callie doesn’t show up, and his fists continue to smash into my face over and over again until I black out.
     
    I get dressed and walk over to the shop across the street to get a coffee. I’m on my way back to the campus when Callie appears at the end of the sidewalk. She has a book in her hand, reading while she heads in my direction, oblivious to the people and cars moving by her. Her hair is braided to the side, with loose strands framing her face, and her jacket is zipped half way up. Her tight jeans show how breakable she is.
     
    I wait for her by the street post and she doesn’t glance up at me until the last second.
     
    “Hey,” I say, trying not to worry about the fact that she’s stopped several feet away from me. I move over to her slowly, taking a sip of my coffee. “What are you reading? You looked totally into it.”
     
    Her gaze lingers on me and I squirm. She lifts the book up and taps the cover where the title is.
     
    “ Sister Carrie ,” I read aloud.
     
    She lowers the book to her side with her finger in the binding to mark the page. “It’s for my American Literature class, which I’m supposed to be at in an hour. I was supposed to read it last night, but I couldn’t find the book.”
     
    “Oh, I see,” I’m at a loss for words hearing the tightness in her voice.
     
    She punches the crosswalk button on the pole with her thumb. “Did you have a nice trip back home?”
     
    “It was okay,” I say, waiting for her to call me out.
     
    She hitches her thumb under the handle of her bag and scoots it higher on her shoulder as she watches the crosswalk sign in front of her. “That’s good.”
     
    It grows silent as she returns to reading. I watch her lips move along with the words as she reads silently; the lips that I know are ridiculously soft and barely touched. I could tell that hardly anyone had kissed her and something about that draws me to her even more, like she trusted me enough to be one of them. Probably not now, though.
     
    “Hey, I think we need to talk,” I say. “There’s some stuff I want to tell you.”
     
    The light on the sign changes and she glances up at it. “I can’t talk right now. I have to get a coffee and stop by the library before