The Coincidence 06 The Resolution of Callie & Kayden (13 page)

‘No way. We should totally do it on the floor,’ I mutter between the kisses he’s showering me with on my lips, the arch of my neck, the spot where my heart beats.

He mutters something else, but trails off as my fingers skim down his chest to the top of his jeans. Flicking the button undone, I slip my fingers into his boxers and he groans, biting at my skin.

‘Callie …’ The sound of my name in that raspy voice he uses covers my arms with goose bumps. I become impatient, more than I ever have been before. It’s crazy, but the last few weeks have been intense, and I can feel myself changing, becoming more comfortable with myself and who I am with Kayden, so I let my hands wander downward and grasp onto his hardness, something I’ve never done so boldly before.

‘Fuck …’ He uses that tone again and I seriously can’t take it anymore. I’m about to rip his jeans off, literally tear the fabric to bits, when I hear a door open and close from somewhere inside the apartment.

We both freeze, panting for air as we kneel in the center of the room, half naked, our hands grasping at each other.

‘Did you hear that?’ I whisper, my eyes darting to the door.

Kayden nods, his lips parting, but he’s cut off by the sound of a voice.

‘Hello, lovebirds,’ Seth calls out. ‘Are you in here?’

Kayden and mine’s eyes widen at the same time. Then suddenly we’re scrambling to get our clothes, but it’s pointless since we both left our shirts and shoes somewhere between the living room and the hallway. My bra is nearby, though, so I get that on while Kayden does the button of his pants up.

‘What should we do?’ I whisper. ‘My shirt’s out there.’

Kayden shrugs, still looking high on the moment. ‘Ask him to hand the clothes to us.’

I wrap my arms around myself. ‘He’ll make a lot of jokes,’ I warn.

‘He’s already going to make jokes,’ Kayden states, giving me a sexy half smile. ‘So we might as well go face the music.’

‘Knock, knock, knock,’ Seth says as he raps his hand on the shut bedroom door. ‘Oh, Callie darling, I found something that belongs to you, I think.’

‘Oh, leave her alone,’ Greyson says. Then the door cracks and he sticks his arm in with our shirts in his hand. ‘Here you guys go.’

‘Thanks, Greyson.’ I take my shirt and hand Kayden his before I put mine on.

Once we’re both dressed, we go out together and face the music.

‘What are you doing here?’ I ask as we walk into the living room.

Greyson’s looking around at our kitchen and Seth is observing the small patio attached to the living room through a sliding glass door.

‘I came to see how things went,’ Seth says, turning to face us. ‘And to see if you guys wanted to go have dinner and celebrate.’ He takes in the sight of us; messy hair, wrinkled shirts, and my zippers undone. ‘But I’m guessing it went well, considering how hot and bothered you two look right now, thanks to my interruption.’ He flashes me an unapologetic grin.

‘We can go,’ Greyson tells me, taking Seth’s hand and pulling him toward the door. Greyson’s always been the more level-headed of the two and tries to keep Seth intact when he can. ‘In fact, we should go and give you two some privacy.’

‘No, it’s okay. We were finished anyway.’ I don’t mean for it to come out how it sounded and I feel a little embarrassed.

‘You were?’ Kayden cocks an eyebrow. ‘Because I wasn’t.’

My embarrassment doubles and I playfully swat his arm, hoping it’ll divert everyone’s attention from my blushing.

‘It’s okay. We can go get dinner,’ Kayden says through his chuckles then his gaze fastens on mine. ‘
We
can finish later.’

All three of them laugh and I should get even more embarrassed, but I find myself calmer than anything. Because this is what life is about, I think. Moments like these.

Right now, everything is perfect.

The next day I have a game. I’m excited and nervous and afraid, but that’s how it always is for me. There’s always a list of things I could mess up on flowing through my head and a list of things I can do not to fuck up. But sometimes I just wish I could get the lists to stop and just play, because I love the game.

I play pretty fucking well through almost the entire game, but only when it veers toward the end does it really matter. The crowd is going wild. Everyone is screaming, hollering, cheering me on, including Callie, Seth, and Greyson, who I know are sitting close to the front, supporting me like they always do. There are players lined up on both sides, me at the back, ready to catch the snap. The lights are bright above me, but there’s a shadow cast over me that no one else can see. We’re one touchdown away from winning and there’s less than a minute on the clock. The pressure is on me to do well, my teammates, my coach, the entire stadium waiting for me to make the perfect throw. But it’s small in comparison to the voice I hear in my head.

My father’s.

It’s gotten worse since Dylan found him, now shouting instead of whispering.

Run!

Make the perfect throw!

Winning the fucking game!

I hear the snap.

Feel the rush.

Here the scream.

You better make this!

It echoes through my head.

I feel the ball touch my hands and I run back, searching for an opening. My heart is pounding in my chest as players move around the field and I’m aware of them all. But not as aware as I am of the voice inside my head.

You better not fuck this up!

There’s no clean throw.

Everyone is covered.

The clock is ticking.

My heart is pounding.

You better not mess this up, Kayden!

I move to the right, and run, my feet hammering against the grass as I focus on one thing – outrunning that damn voice. My feet move faster than they ever have as I dodge to the left then the right. There are people in front of me, behind me, coming at me from different directions, but I focus on the end zone. It’s all that matters. And as the clock continues to tick, a player grabbing at me from the back, I jump across that line.

Touchdown!

The crowd goes crazy! My team goes crazy! Everyone is running at me. We won! We won! We won!

But I feel like I’ve lost somehow because in the end I can still hear that damn voice.

You could have done better.

After I’m showered and changed, I head out of the locker room even though my team’s begging me to go out.

‘Come on, man,’ Tyrel Buliforton, the end back says as I sling my bag over my shoulder and head for the door. ‘You played fucking awesome. We need to go celebrate.’

I shake my head. ‘Nah, I already got plans,’ I lie because all I want to do is find Callie and hold her, knowing it’ll help me leave the voice of my father behind.

‘For someone who made the winning touchdown, you sure look super depressed,’ Luke Price, my best friend, says as he follows me out of the locker room, zipping up his coat. Luke’s been my best friend since we were kids and has his own problems with his parents. We don’t talk about it, though. I think he saves it for his girlfriend, Violet, just like I do with Callie.

‘You’re not going out either,’ I tell him as we step outside and into the cold.

He shrugs. ‘Partying isn’t … or can’t be my thing anymore, being a recovering alcoholic and all.’

‘You doing okay with that?’ I ask, tugging my fingers through my damp hair as I search for Callie in the crowd of people loitering around, wearing the school colors.

‘Yeah, but I know myself enough to know that I’ll be doing okay just as long as I go home and not out.’ He stuffs his hands into his pockets and then grins as he spots Violet leaning against a post not too far from us. It’s funny, but he never really smiles except for when he’s with her.

I wonder if it’s the same way with me when I’m with Callie.

As if to answer my own question, Callie emerges from the crowd, shoving her way through the last of the people, and a big smile rises on my face.

‘Hey you,’ she says, rushing up to me as some guy hoots and hollers from the crowd. ‘You played great.’

‘Yeah … I could have done a little better, though.’ I wrap my arms around her when she reaches me and I pull her tight against me. Her warmth spreads across my body and I breathe in the peace.

‘You did perfect,’ she whispers in my ear and then leans back. ‘We should celebrate.’

‘I did okay,’ I press. ‘Not perfect.’

Her lips curve to a frown. ‘No sulking or I’ll have to force you to do fun things until you’re laughing so hard you pee your pants.’

I laugh at her, brushing the pad of my thumb across her bottom lip. ‘All right, you win,’ I say. ‘I played perfect.’

Her lips turn upward again and there’s a sparkle in her eyes that matches the stars above us. ‘You fucking kicked ass.’

I can’t help myself. I bust up laughing. Callie rarely swears so when she does, it’s hilarious. ‘Oh my God, it’s so funny when you say fuck.’

She grins, but her cheeks turn the slightest shade of pink. ‘I knew that one would get you to laugh.’

‘You always manage to,’ I say, no longer finding our conversation funny but personal and intimate. ‘And actually I was thinking we could pick up takeout and then go hangout at our place.’

‘Our place.’ She says the words slowly, letting them roll off her tongue. ‘That sounds like a great idea to me to celebrate if that’s okay. Maybe Luke and Violet could come hang.’ I glance over at the two of them chatting near the front of the crowd. ‘It might be nice now that you and Violet are getting along.’

Callie nods. ‘Sounds perfect.’ She threads her fingers through mine and pulls me away from the stadium – away from my father’s voice – and by the time we reach the car, it’s disappeared completely.

I just wish it would stay that way.

Callie and I managed to move in a few things before we had to part ways for Thanksgiving, but between work and school, we still have a ways to go. We do get to spend one night in our apartment together, cuddled up on a blanket and watching movies on my laptop, before she drops me off at the airport so I can fly out to Virginia for Thanksgiving.

I’m not happy about spending the holiday without her, but I understand she needs to go home and see her brother while I need to go see mine. It’s part of growing and getting better, I guess – learning how to do things on your own. I just wish doing things on my own meant I could still hold Callie’s hand because it feels weird without her near me.

Dylan’s wife – who insists I call her Liz, instead of by her full name, which is Elizabeth – is freaking out, trying to get the house in order for her parents’ arrival, while she tries to cook everything all at once. The kitchen smells like burnt toast and the air is heavy with smoke, causing the smoke detectors to go off sporadically.

‘Does she need help?’ I ask Dylan. We’re sitting at the table playing cards, which blows my freaking mind because it’s so normal and makes me uncomfortable, since I’m not used to it. What I’m used to, at least, the last time I was at a family event, was yelling, fighting, hitting, breaking.

Dylan assesses his cards as he takes a gulp of his beer. ‘You can ask her, but she’ll flip out on you.’ He sets two cards face down on the table and gives himself two more from the deck. Dylan looks a lot like me; brown hair, tall, with a medium build, and is probably my future. Well, except the whole teaching thing. I can’t see myself doing that. Honestly, I’m not sure I can picture myself doing this either, sitting at the table while Callie cooks dinner. It seems so fucking rude to make her do it. Plus, Callie doesn’t like to cook very much.

‘Do you need any help?’ I finally ask as Liz rushes back and forth between the stove and a bowl she’s mixing something in. She’s got blonde hair, blue eyes, and is wearing an apron over her jeans and T-shirt, and she doesn’t look very comfortable in the kitchen.

She waves me off, scurrying for a towel when she spills milk on the counter. ‘No. You’re the guest and you should sit back and relax.’

Dylan chuckles under his breath as he rearranges the cards in his hand. ‘Don’t worry. She’s going to give up here in about a half an hour and we’ll end up going out.’

‘So, this is your tradition?’ I examine my cards. I don’t have a very good hand, but we’re not playing for money, just fun. I know why, too. When we were younger, our father would make us play for money. If he won, he’d take all his winnings and if he lost, he’d beat the shit out of us because in his words, ‘we were cheating bastards.’ So really, we’d always lose.

Dylan nods, laying his cards down and I do the same. I think I like Dylan a little bit more when instead of bragging about winning, he says, ‘Yeah, if she’d just let me help, though, it wouldn’t be a problem. I’m an excellent cook.’

As Liz whisks by the table, she whips Dylan in the side with the dish towel she’s carrying. ‘That’s such a lie. You equally suck at cooking, which is why we have at least five takeout places on speed dial.’

‘One for each weekday?’ I joke, gathering the cards.

Liz nods with a serious look on her face and it kind of makes me smile because they have their own thing going here that doesn’t seem at all like my parents. They’re not nasty to each other. They smile. Laugh.

It’s nice, and kind of a relief because it gives me the tiniest ray of hope that I won’t turn out like my father, that I can have this normalcy, this happiness, that I can have a future filled with what I want, and with who I want.

‘You want to go watch the game?’ Dylan asks, nodding at the living room as he picks up his beer and scoots his chair back from the table.

‘Sure.’ I get up and we wander into the living room and settle on the leather couch in front of the flat screen. The wall is covered with photos of the two of them – at their wedding, the beach, on the top of a mountain. It makes me sad because I don’t have any photos where I look happy. Callie and I don’t even have any photos of us on the wall.