Callum & Harper (Sleepless 1)

“Uh, I didn’t mean to intrude,” I said, the heat of a blush creeping up my neck. “I forgot my bag with my stuff and came back for it and, um, I accidentally saw you and...”

She looked like she was about to cry, her hands flew to her mouth and I reached for her, “I’m so sorry, Harper. I didn’t think. I’m sorry.”

But she burst out laughing, the tears streaming down her face her obvious attempt at holding it in and not from humiliation. I breathed a sigh of relief and my smile began to match hers. She sucked in air harshly and started laughing harder.

“Oh my Lord, Callum. This is so embarrassing!”

“You’re embarrassed! Look at me! I’m in a towel, dripping water all over the effing floor.”

She snorted, making her laugh even harder. My laughter harmonized with hers, tears streaming down both our faces now.

Harper sobered suddenly and we stared at each other for at least a minute. I made a cautious step toward her, my face inching toward hers. She laid a hand on my damp shoulder but instead of meeting my kiss, her eyes brightened and she turned her head in embarrassment.

“You have to get dressed, Callum.”

“I’m so sorry, I forgot,” I said, as I grabbed my bag and headed for the common room one more time. When I returned, dressed and slightly flustered, I found Harper playing an acoustic guitar in one of Charlie’s recliners.

“Wow. You can play guitar too?” I asked.

“Nah, I just dabble.”

“I noticed you didn’t have a towel and although mine’s a bit wet, I wouldn’t care if you used it, if you want.”

She set the guitar aside and stood, smoothing her wrinkled jeans down her legs and stood before me.

“Thanks,” she whispered, grabbing her bag and throwing the towel over her shoulders.

She returned a few minutes later, her coppery hair wet and hanging at the middle of her back, already starting to dry in soft waves. Her eyes were brightened by the shower and her lips were plump and red. What I wouldn’t give to kiss those lips.

Chapter Two

Dream On

Harper

“How long have you been on your own?” I asked Callum, as we walked to the laundromat three blocks down from his friend Charlie’s studio.

“Probably three months or so.”

“How did you manage to finish school?”

“Well, I’d shower in the locker room. I’m ashamed to say, I was forced to get the free luncheons and I’d take as much food as possible from there for dinner that night as well. I slept pretty much anywhere.”

“Keep your grades up, doc?”

That made him smile. “Hell yes I did.”

“Wow, Callum, that is simultaneously alarming and extraordinary.”

“Nah, I did what I wanted most of the time. It wasn’t as bad as I think I’m making it sound.”

“You’re an awful liar, Tate.” I said, using his last name, sending a secret thrill up my arms from the familiarity of it.

“What about you?” He asked.

“Well, I didn’t turn eighteen until after I graduated so my foster mom pretty much had no choice but to feed me my senior year.”

“I meant your grades but I’m happy to hear you ate, even though it doesn’t look like you do,” he teased, inspecting my body and heating my cheeks to a bright red.