The Coincidence of Callie and Kayden

my shoulder, praying to God Seth will walk in here and save me from this uncomfortable conversation. “I don’t know, Callie.”
     
    She pouts out her bottom lip. “It’s because you don’t want me at all, isn’t it?”
     
    Sighing, I put my hands down on the counter so she’s in between my arms. “No, it’s not that. Trust me. It’s just that I don’t want to have this conversation with you when you’re not going to remember it.”
     
    She leans forward, reducing the gap between our faces. “I’ll remember it. I promise.”
     
    I try not to laugh at her, clenching my hands into fists to resist the urge to slide them onto her hips. “Alright you want the truth?” I ask and she bobs her head up and down. “No, I don’t like you better this way. I like the sober Callie, the one that I can talk to. The one that is so sweet it’s fucking adorable.” I dip my face forward and breathe on her neck, moving toward the no touching line, but not crossing it. “The one that trembles just from the feel of my breath. The one that I want to kiss and touch so fucking badly it drives me crazy. The one that makes me feel things…” I trail off and incline away, glad to see that her eyelids are only half open. That way I know I’m still safe.
     
    “I’m tired.” She yawns, stretching her arms above her and I catch a glimpse of her bare stomach; flat, tiny, and firm. “Can you find Seth so he can take me home?”
     
    I tuck a strand of her hair behind her ear. “Yeah, you come with me, though. I don’t want to leave you here alone.”
     
    She nods, hopping off the counter, and I drape my arm around her back to hold her steady. We search the house, but Seth isn’t anywhere. I find Luke at the poker table, playing a hand, cheating just like his father taught him.
     
    “Hey, man, I’m going to take Callie home,” I say as he glances up at me from his cards. “If you see Seth, would you tell him?”
     
    Luke nods and then his eyes dash to the red and blue chips in front of him. “Yeah, man will do.”
     
    Callie buries her face into my shirt as we walk out the door and into the quiet hallway. She leans her weight on me and I guide her down the stairs and out the doors. The air is chilly and she shivers against me.
     
    “Where’s your jacket?” I ask, rubbing my hand up and down her arm.
     
    She shrugs as she stumbles over the curb and I catch her with my arm. Her eyes are barely open and she keeps sighing. Finally, I give up and stop in the middle of the sidewalk.
     
    She blinks up at me. “What’s wrong?”
     
    I let go of her and speak slow because I know she’s struggling to comprehend anything that’s going on. “I’m going to pick you up and carry you back. Is that okay?”
     
    She eyes my hands and then reverts her gaze to me. “Okay.”
     
    I step cautiously toward her. “Put your arms around my neck.”
     
    She obeys, sliding her hands up my chest and hooking them around my neck. She rests her head against my chest as I wrap my arm around her back. Bending my knees, I put my other arm underneath her legs and scoop her up into my arms. She nuzzles her face into my chest as I start up the sidewalk. I take my time because I love how it feels to carry her, the way she needs me, the way I need to protect her.
     
    By the time I reach the McIntyre residence hall, I’m working really hard not to panic that I have to put her down.  “Callie, where’s your ID card?” I ask. “I didn’t bring mine.”
     
    “In my pocket,” she murmurs, reaching for it, but her arm falls slack to her side. “I’m too tired to get it out.”
     
    “Try again, okay?” I practically beg by she’s nonresponsive.
     
    Emptying my mind of any potential dirty thoughts, I brace her against my chest and slip my fingers into her pocket, quickly pulling her card out. Swiping it through the lock, the door unlocks and I get us inside. I take the elevators to the upper floor and find her room. When I extend my hand for the doorknob, she wakes up and grabs a hold of my arm.
     
    “No, don’t open it,” she says, nodding at the red scarf tied around the doorknob.  “That means my roommate is… she’s… preoccupied.”
     
    I try not to laugh at the fact that even when she’s drunk, she has a hard time saying it. “Where do you want me to take you?”
     
    She drops her head back against my chest. “You can just keep carrying me. It’s very relaxing.”
     
    “What about Seth’s