Blossom for Me

The morning light pooled into the small room in the east corner of the Berkley house early that early June morning, marking the beginning of the new day. It slipped past the curtains and spread out to the walls, hitting every surface and corner it could. The bright glow of the large star reflected from the mirror hanging on one wall only to bounce around the room and shine right down upon one sleeping figure on the full-sized bed. The boy stirred awake, brown hair falling into his light eyes, as he stretched his legs out and blinked his sleepy eyes open. He wiggled around under the sheets, kicking off the socks that had been covering his feet, and stretched his arms above his head. He let out a content yawn, long and loud, until he remembered the girl still asleep beside him. Clamping his mouth shut with his hand, he laid his eyes upon her. The corner of his lips curved upwards into a small smile as he watched her still in slumber. Her dirty blonde hair was a bird’s nest on her pillow, and her face held serenity he only ever saw whenever she was like that—in deep, peaceful sleep. Her skin was milky and, under his rough fingertips, it was soft and smooth. He was pushing stray strands of her hair from her face when she peeked open an eye and then looked up at him, a smile similar to his gracing her full lips.

“Morning,” he greeted lowly.

“Hey,” she murmured in a throaty, morning voice.

She stretched her arms over her head and sunk deeper into the covers. They lay in silence for a moment, staring at nothing in particular, until it finally felt too hot to be under the stifling blankets and Callie kicked it to her feet with a groan. She swung her legs over the bed and jumped onto the soft, plush carpet.

“Woah.”

Callie narrowed her eyes at him until they were slits. She stumbled quickly to her dresser, cheeks burning red, and pulled out sweat pants to cover her bare legs. The boy let out a chuckle at her expense, and she twisted her neck around, cheeks still enflamed, to glare at him murderously.

“Wouldya turn around?!” she exclaimed, flustered and tomato red.

He shook his head, smiling impishly at her. “I think I like what I see,” he said, smirking.

She flushed an even deeper red—if that was possible—and threw the closest thing in her reach at him. She tripped into her bottoms and heard the loud smack of the book colliding with his head.

“Oh, fuck me,” he shouted loudly, clutching onto his forehead and screwing up his face in pain. Callie’s hand flew up to her mouth, wide eyes and furrowed brow.

“Fuckin’ fuck me backwards! Shit…that fuckin’ hurts, ow, like a, ow,—motherfuckin’—”

“Shh,” she snapped, walking briskly to him to examine the damage she had caused. “You’ll wake up my parents!”

“I wouldn’t be fucking cussing like a filthy-mouthed sailor if you hadn’t thrown your damn Calculus book at me, Cal,” he breathed furiously. She touched his forehead gingerly with her finger and he winced, shying away from her. She eyed him apologetically. His eyebrows still scrunched together, face still twisted in pain, he managed to say, “Fuck, Cal. I didn’t even know you had such a good arm.”

The little girl couldn’t help herself. She smiled widely and let escape past her lips a loud laugh, causing the boy before her to scowl. He narrowed his eyes at her, glaring at her from behind the brown hair that had fallen in his face. She clamped her mouth and bit her lip until she could almost taste her blood.

“Well, if you hadn’t been such a perv, I don’t think I would’ve even thought of throwing the book at you,” she countered smartly. She stuck her tongue out at him, and he caught it between his fingers. She moaned in protest while he laughed and teased her.

He let it go after another annoying second on her behalf, and then wiped his fingers on her t-shirt. She grimaced in disgust. “You’re a jerk, you know that?” She accused as she poked him in the chest with her finger and then crossed her arms.

He gasped in mock offense. “You’re the one who threw a damn book at me!” he half-accused, half-laughed.

“Because you were being a pervert!”

“Maybe you shouldn’t be so hot,” he mumbled under his breath.

Her cheeks flamed up. “Maybe you shouldn’t be so horny,” she countered, stuttering more than anything else as she turned her head away so he wouldn’t see her flushed face.

“I’m a teenage boy—”

“With raging hormones!”

“Whatever.” He flicked his wrist in a nonchalant manner, as if he was physically waving her argument off with his hand. Callie rolled her eyes. “Well, you know what, Cal?” he asked her, quickly making to change the topic.

To amuse him, she answered him sassily with a, “What?”

“I think you should make me breakfast.”

She raised her eyebrows. “Excuse me?”

“Maybe some eggs and bacon,” he suggested, thinking thoughtfully to himself while tapping his chin. “Oh, and maybe with some pancakes—you know, the ones with the chocolate chips you know I love.”

“And maybe you should just shut up,” she interrupted between a laugh, narrowing her eyes playfully.

“But—” he tried, opening up his mouth and pointing a finger at her accusingly.

“Ah,” she smirked, holding up a hand.

“Cal—”

“Hm, not listening.”

“Cal—”

“Is someone talking? I thought I heard something?” she joked.

“That’s not fair! I deserve repentance!” he exclaimed. “You hit me with your damn book!”

She shook her head and laughed. Covering her ears with her hands, she sang, “I can’t hear you.”

He crossed his arms and set his eyes on his small friend. “Are you trying to tick me off?”

The right corner of her lips curved upwards, forming a cute little smirk. “Is it working?”

He shook his head, letting out a chuckle and fell backwards onto her bed. He tucked his hands behind his head and looked up at her. She walked over to stand between his legs at the edge of her bed, folding her arms across her chest, while she gave him a little smile. She leaned her weight onto one side, quirking an eyebrow at his smiling face.

“Alright. What’s your plan for today, Garrett?”

“Well, Calliope—”

“Don’t call me that,” Callie cut in, glaring at him once more.

“—I would very much like breakfast this lovely morning,” he went on, as if without the interruption. Callie let out a small giggle. “I think we should go to 5 & Diner.”

Callie nodded her head slowly and began walking towards her closet. “Only if you’re paying,” she agreed, already picking out an outfit. Garrett hummed in agreement. She smiled and then walked towards her door, intending to go to the bathroom. Before she left, she turned around, pointing a finger at Garrett, and said, “No going through my underwear drawer.”

Garrett shot up from his laying position, his face appalled and his hands up in defense. “Like I would do something like that, Cal.”

Callie scoffed and headed out of the door. “You would,” she said before she closed it behind her and trekked to the bathroom to get ready.

Twenty minutes later, Callie was slipping on her gladiator sandals and Garrett was shimmying back into his skinny jeans. He pulled on a black Left 4 Dead t-shirt, its sleeves cut off, over his head and ran a hand through his messy brown hair. Callie fixed her white summer dress, smoothing the fabric out underneath her delicate hands and pulled it down so that it passed her knees, as it should. Garrett laced up his weathered black high-top Converse sneakers and grabbed Callie’s hand.

“Let’s go,” he said excitedly.

Callie laughed and nodded her head.

They silently walked down the stairs, being careful not to wake her parents. They managed to reach the bottom floor and then slip through the living room towards the front door without making any noise. Callie grabbed her house key and then walked out the door, Garrett not far behind.

Instantly, her cheeks burned as they stepped into the heat and under the Arizona sun. A scowl found its way onto Calliope’s face as she walked pointedly down the pathway in the direction of Garrett’s bright yellow car. The sun’s rays glared off of the sunny Cavalier, shining in her direction and blinding her. She groaned and put a hand in front of her face. When she reached the car, she pulled at the door handle, and frowned when she realized it was locked.

“Gary, hurry up!” she yelled behind her. She twirled around, ready to glare at him again, but all she saw was the open front door of her house. “Gary?”

She let out a loud yelp as she was swooped up into the air, her stomach flying up to her throat and her head spinning in circles. She closed her eyes shut, as she felt warm arms wrapped tightly around her shoulders and underneath her knees. She peeked open an eye and saw Garrett’s smiling face, something between his impish smirk and his foolish grin. She glowered at him.

“Put me down!” she demanded, trying to wiggle from his grasp.

He laughed loudly and brought her gently into his car. When he let her down, she crossed her arms and pouted her lips in distaste, glaring at the windshield. He frowned and jumped in the car on his side. He turned to her, but she didn’t look back. Her heart was racing. She was upset. He had scared her, caught her utterly off guard when she was thrown into the air, and now she was annoyed. She knew that she was just being a brat, but she didn’t want to forgive him easily. She wanted to be mad. Because then she didn’t have to admit that she liked being in his arms, no matter how short it had been. She liked their close proximity, how she could smell his sweet boyish smell—a mixture of bath soap and laundry detergent, the kind that Carol, his mother, always used; and the small tinge of boy sweat. She couldn’t look at him now. If she did, she was just going to forget that she was angry in the first place. She wanted to be angry at him, just a little.

“Callie, don’t be mad!” he pleaded exaggeratedly. She looked at him from the corner of her eye and saw his wide, puppy-dog eyes. “I was only joking around.”

He took her chin into his warm hand and made her look up at him. He smiled a little apologetic smile that made her only crack one herself. “There we go,” he sighed. “That’s the smile I love seeing on your face.”

“I hate you so much sometimes, Gar,” she admitted.

He raised an eyebrow and then furrowed his brow. “Why?”

“Because I can never be mad at your a-dork-able little face.”

She smiled widely at his blank and puzzled face, pushing away her irritation to the back of her head and letting it dissipate into nothingness. Then, she wiggled around in her seat and pulled her seat belt across her lap. Garrett stared at her confusedly, and then turned slowly around in his own seat.

There was a long pause, until he started the engine and then set off down the road.

“A-dork-able?”

“Shut up and drive!”