Blossom for Me

She stepped outside, onto the small deck by the side of the house. It was a small, secluded area, desert tan tiling on the floor and large, tall planks of wood surrounding it for privacy. On one side of the patio, up against the makeshift walls, was a long, narrow bench. Atop it were a thick, white polyester cushion and a dozen or so throw pillows that were arranged in a haphazardly-tossed fashion. On the opposite end was a traditional patio set: a small square glass table with four rounded wicker chairs, complete with similar white polyester cushions and white pillows to make up the backs. The entire area was covered by a veranda-like roof, and was dotted with small hurricane lanterns. It had a calming atmosphere, one which a house in its current state—filled to the brim with rowdy teenagers and loud enough music to make you go deaf—needed, especially for someone like Callie Berkley.

It was still raining as hard as before, if not harder. She could hear the splashes of water, every time a drop of rain hit the cement outside. It was loud and fast, like a rushing waterfall, and the sound did wonders to her headache—or, in fact, migraine would be more fitting. She had long discarded her plastic red cup, deciding that tonight she didn’t want to get anywhere near drunk; although after having two or three, she was already just a little tipsy. Max had also at long last left her, after John had pressed him relentlessly to play a game of beer pong with him on his team. He’d promised to her that he would be back, but after losing two games, the chances of him walking back to Callie were almost slim to none. And Ashleigh had long disappeared from her best friend’s side, as well, after one last text message and a hand of a boy that Callie didn’t recognize had pulled the blonde girl up from the sofa and led her to only God knows where. It happened at almost every party, one minute she’s with friends—usually, though, it was Pat and Garrett—and the next, she would find herself alone, to fend for herself. It was worse this time around because she didn’t know most of the kids at this party; she could barely name one of them.

She’d immediately left the sofa after a drunken couple had landed on the other side, macking each other like no one else was in the room. She pushed her way around the crowded house, first stopping outside by the pool area; however, the minute she stepped out of the glass sliding door, Callie was fast to run back in. It was a mess of naked bodies and it seemed like they were enjoying themselves more with the touching and exposure than being in the wet rain and cool pool to swim in. She tried avoiding going up the stairs she knew were just occupied by countless couples in different stages of intimacy. Everywhere she had turned, she hadn’t encountered a familiar face, one that would leave her comforted with the fact that she wasn’t alone. It wasn’t until she had stepped out of that white French door, leading her to the secluded little patio area, that she felt better and a little relieved.

Callie took a seat on one of the wicker chairs at the table, slipping out of the two-inch high sandals that Ashleigh had forced her into. Her feet were aching with the pain that she hadn’t experienced since her cousin’s wedding a year ago. She wasn’t used to wearing heels, especially for such a long period of time. She pulled her legs up, tucking them underneath her as she took a pillow sitting on another chair and placing it in her lap. She felt so uncomfortable in her dress. It was too short, too revealing. She didn’t know why she had allowed her friend to shove her into it. It was too tight at the bust; her boobs felt like they were going to spill out. And although she couldn’t help but agree how cute it was, with its bubble skirt and nice striped print and color, she also couldn’t fathom its length. She felt too exposed and it bothered her. Callie was reserved in the most possible way. She borrowed Pat’s board shorts whenever she swam, and she never wore anything that didn’t go past mid-thigh. Her shoulders were never kept bare; she’d never been in a strapless outfit before. And heels were just out of the question. She preferred flip-flops to those, and liked her Vans, scruffy or not. She still liked to look pretty on occasion, wearing subtle make-up here and there, but she liked to in the most conservative ways possible, without showing off much skin, and without bringing herself attention—that she really didn’t need, or want.

It wasn’t long before she started dozing off to sleep, caught up in her absentminded thoughts. Her eyes started blinking more often and her breathing began to slow. She had already yawned several times and she was almost too comfortable now on the wicker chair, curled up in a ball, head pressed lightly to the armrest. After fighting the urge to fall asleep countless times, she finally allowed her eyes to close shut and let slumber take over. But it wasn’t even a minute before her eyes had snapped open to meet a pair of wide brown eyes staring down at her.

The boy hovering over her grinned, pushing back her hair away from her face gently with one hand, before he put an arm around her waist and picked her up from the chair.

“C’mon, Sweetie.”

“Hey,” she yawned, sleepy eyes blinking closed once more. “Are we leaving yet?”

He nodded his head as he helped her up to her feet, supporting her by the waist with an arm that held her close, very tightly to him. He opened the door for her and let her pass through first, and then he led her back into the house, his grip on her hip tightened considerably from before, as they maneuvered through the crowded rooms. It was still as packed as from before, but with far more people stumbling and falling to the floor—some, less fortunate than others, already down. She let her groggy eyes roam the crowded rooms once more, still meeting the gazes of unfamiliar faces, people she wouldn’t remember or probably see again, and people who wouldn’t remember her face either.

Pat took her outside, into the pouring rain. He pulled his sweater over her, protecting her temporarily from the storm, as they walked down the driveway to an idling ’95 Honda Civic. Tim, Pat’s older brother, was already in the driver’s seat, with Jared in the passenger’s. Pat opened the car door, revealing a smiling Kennedy. He grinned at the two and slid down to the other side of the car behind Tim, while Pat assisted Callie into the middle seat.

“So, how drunk are you, Cal?” Jared asked from the front seat, twisting his neck around to glance at her limp form with a cheeky smirk.

“Buzzed,” she clarified, curling to her side and burying her face into Kennedy’s shoulder.

“You look more like ‘wasted,’” Kennedy suggested as she snuggled closer to him. He chuckled softly as he slung his right arm around her, making himself and her more comfortable in the seat. She allowed the older boy to hold her, feeling more relaxed beside him—enough to make her want to fall asleep sooner. Callie ignored his statement and closed her eyes to allow the sleep to overtake her once again. She was too tired to really care what the boys were saying. She had only one thing on her mind.

Pat finally slipped into the car, into the last remaining seat beside Callie, after shedding his sweater and throwing it onto the floor.

“Are we ready?” Tim asked them. He glanced at each of them through the rear-view mirror, each one of them returning his gaze with silent answers. Taking the silence as an affirmative that his passengers were good to go, he adjusted the mirror back in place, put the gearshift on drive, and set off down the wet roads toward home.

Scottsdale was in the northeastern part of the Phoenix area, about fifteen minutes back to Tempe—twenty in traffic. The roads were nearly clear now that it was almost midnight. Callie had finally fallen asleep in Kennedy’s arms, her legs curled up beneath her and Kennedy’s leather jacket slung over her petite body. Soft music played through the stereo, something on one of the popular Top-40 radio stations, as they drove to fill silence. Tim took them to Kennedy’s home first. The ride was short, and it wasn’t long before Callie was being woken up.

She looked up at him, a prominent frown on her face as her eyes drooped with exhaustion. Kennedy smiled at her sympathetically, gesturing outside with his free hand.

“I’m home, babe. Gotta move.”

Her lips turned further south, but she still (reluctantly) moved away from his arms. Kennedy thanked Tim for the ride and bid everyone a goodnight and goodbye. He then planted a light kiss on Callie’s cheek as she dozed back off to sleep, her head falling onto Pat’s bony shoulder. She smiled lazily at him, telling him a goodnight, as well, and Kennedy was out of the car, heading for his house.

They took Jared home next, the same routine happened. He thanked Tim and then said good night to everyone. Tim didn’t wait for the red-headed boy to enter his home and sped down the street towards their own home. It was still a quiet drive, and by the time they finally arrived home, Pat had fallen asleep, as well.

“Wake up,” Tim ordered his little brother, nudging the younger boy’s shoulder. Pat stirred awake, blinking his eyes. “Can you get Cal home? Or you want me to do that?”

Pat looked around stupidly. “We’re home?”

His brother nodded impatiently.

“Get her home,” Tim commanded this time, too tired to do it himself, and closed the car door, leaving Pat in the car alone with Callie.

She was so peaceful in his arms, and she had been so exhausted, Pat almost didn’t want to wake her up. But he had to. He was tired, too, and needed as much sleep as the young girl cuddled up next to him did. He poked her stomach once and whispered her name. She didn’t budge, so he poked a little harder this time. Then, he resorted to nudging her, something he wished he hadn’t had to do; he felt it was too rough.

“Cal, c’mon, Sweetie,” Pat cooed in her ear. She moaned and pushed his face away with her hand. Pat chuckled and snatched her hand into his. She snuggled herself into the car seat in an awkward fetus position. Pat wondered momentarily how she found that at all comfortable, how she seemed to just be able to easily fall fast asleep. He nudged her shoulder again.

“Cal…”

When she didn’t move, Pat let out a sigh, and opened up the car door. A burst of cool, humid air spread around. He got out and then turned back around, bending down until his torso was back inside the car. He wrapped his left arm around Callie’s shoulders and then tucked the other arm under her knees. With one quick swoop, he had her in his arms. He shut the car door with a bump of his hip and walked across his lawn to the next house over. He stumbled up the porch steps and fumbled with his chain of keys, looking helplessly for the one that would open the Berkley’s front door.

Callie awoke in his arms, her eyes opening wide.

“Pat,” she breathed quietly, sleepiness thick in her voice.

Pat, still fumbling with the keys, too preoccupied with figuring out which one would let the two of them into the Berkley’s home, did not hear her. He dropped the ring and let slip out a curse. “Shit!”

“Pat,” Callie said louder.

“Callie, not now,” he answered absentmindedly.

“Put me down, Pat.”

“Callie—”

“I can get upstairs by myself,” she interrupted. She narrowed her eyes at him and ordered, “Put me down. Besides, I’m probably too heavy for you.”

Pat rolled his eyes as he let the small girl in his arms drop onto the wooden floor. He kept an arm around her waist as she stooped down to pick up his fallen keys. Unlocking her front door quickly, she gave him a smile, baring her teeth in a ridiculous grin.

Pat frowned, flicking his wrist. “You weigh like nothing, Cal. Don’t even.”

“Whatever,” she said thoughtlessly and waved it off with her hand. She pushed open the door and twisted her neck around. “Good night, Pat,” she said softly, giving him a kiss on the cheek as a farewell.

He stood in front, his mouth open as if to say something back.

Callie laughed lightly and patted his shoulder. “Go home, Pat. I’ll see you in the morning.”

With that, Callie disappeared into her house. She climbed silently up the stairs to her room. She could feel the pull of sleep as she picked one foot after the other up the staircase. She slipped into her bedroom, finding her way in the dark, and stumbling a bit over the carelessly thrown nothings on her floor. She went straight to her dresser and pulled an oversized wife-beater she’d taken from one of the boys. Stripping out of the tight dress, she kicked off her sandals, and then she tugged the shirt over her small body. She took her hair in her hands and bunched it into a messy bun. She walked over to her bed, unclipping her bra and throwing it aside, and pulled her covers. She slipped underneath and curled into a ball, meeting precious sleep.

Arms wound around her waist and Callie let out a little yelp.

“Shh…it’s just me, Cal.”

She relaxed into his arms and turned around to face the boy in her bed. Her eyebrows scrunched up as she put a hand on her chest to express her shock. She stared into his sleepy eyes for a moment and then traced the rest of his tired features. She instinctively grazed the dark purple bags under his eyes and the stubble that sprout along his jaw with her delicate fingers. He had a small lop-sided smile on his face—the one she loved so much—but she could see pain behind his eyes. His eyes glistened with what looked as premature tears, and she frowned.

“What are you doing here?”

The boy didn’t answer. He just shook his head and buried his face into her neck, pulling her closer to his body. Burning heat climbed up her neck and pooled into her round cheeks. She couldn’t help that she blushed so uncontrollably around him, especially when there was so much physical contact. She was so glad that he couldn’t see her. If he had, she didn’t know what she would have done with herself. Probably have died in embarrassment, and then turned even redder than she already was. Her heart thumped loudly in her chest. It was like it was running on overdrive, as if it was going to just jump out of her chest so that she could give it to him, more than she had already. For a fleeting second, she wondered if he could hear it as clearly as she could in her ears.

“Hey,” she said softly, wrapping her tiny arms around his neck as he pressed himself as close to her as possible. “Hey, is everything alright?”

He shook his head, his hair falling into his face and grazing her neck. She suppressed a giggle that wanted to escape as his short strands of hair brushed her neck, tickling her where she was most ticklish. Instead, she frowned more and pressed her face to the top of his head, leaving a loving kiss to the top of his head.

“Okay.”

They lay in silence for a while. Callie couldn’t close her eyes anymore. It was like sleep had finally escaped her, and that made her sad and disappointed. She had wanted to sleep badly earlier. But she couldn’t anymore, not when he was in her bed, not when he was holding her like he was holding her now, not when she was internally freaking out like she was now with him so close to her. She rested her head atop his, loosening her grip slightly from around his neck and sighed.

His arms wound tighter around her and she moved slightly, surprised. She had thought he had finally gone to sleep. She couldn’t see his face though. It was still pressed her to neck, his warm breath every other second sending shivers down her spine. She could feel it hot on her skin and made her heat up more when she blushed. She waited for something, anything, but he made no movement. He seemed to not have any intention to do anything but stay with her, stay curled up in her bed like they were now.

“Good night,” he whispered into her neck.