Callum & Harper (Sleepless 1)

“Really,” he said, “and this is incredibly embarrassing to admit to anyone, especially a hottie, but I figure, what the hell, I’m lying next to you shirtless and that’s about as intimate as one can get with a stranger, I think. Or, you know what I mean.

“Anyway, I’ve never done anything because I just feel like it’s the one part of myself that I still have control over. I have nothing to give anyone, really. It’s the one gift I can give that has any kind of value. It makes me feel worthy.”

I couldn’t believe what I’d just heard. I mean, I struggled a little after the hottie part, of course, because Callum had this school boy effect on me and all. He thinks I’m pretty, I stupidly and giddily admitted to myself. I stayed quiet for a moment just absorbing what he’d said before answering. “I think that is just about the sexiest thing I think has ever come out of a man’s mouth,” I blurted.

“Are you sure?” He asked. “Because you’ve never seen me spit to hit a mark.”

“See, now you just killed it.”

Callum snorted. “I think you’re the only person on this planet that seems to agree with me on that particular subject,” he joked.

“Not at all, dork. I can think of a million girl’s names right here and now that would be right there with you.”

“But not you?” He boldly asked.

“Callum Tate! I’m riding the v-train with you, aren’t I? Got the ticket and everything. Gotta’ admit, it’s the slowest and most boring train ride ever but, sheesh, I know the destination will be worth it. Give me a little credit, will ya’?”

“Alright, alright,” he laughed. “I’m sorry. It’s just, we’re sort of a unique pair, the two of us.”

“I know,” I said. “You just gained a heck of a lot of respect from me. You know that?”

“Same here, Harper Bailey. You’re an enigma.”

“In more ways than one,” I said.

“So, do you want to do it?” He asked.

“Callum!” I screamed, laughing. My face turned another shade of red. Like I said, thank God for the dark.

He laughed. “I’m joking! I’m joking!” He said, laying flat, tucking his hands behind his head.

I turned to face him and felt his breath move my hair. Callum surprised me by reaching out and tucking it behind my ear but doesn’t return the hand behind his head like it was before. Instead, he laid his left hand on my own and we drift off to sleep, each lulled by the warmth of a sincere body.

The next morning, I woke groggily to quiet and pitch black but Callum’s hand wasn’t on my own. I instinctively reached out but it continued on to the end of the pallet. He’s gone. I sat up, wondering why Callum would have left for his advisor meeting without me. Deciding to stand, I stretched and lifted myself up to search for the light switch, fumbling along the wall for the raised plastic rectangle. In my haste to find the switch, I forgot to feel around at my feet and ran into something hard, falling to my knees.

“Crap!” I said, my hand going to my right knee. My fingers come back warm and wet. Bleeding, great. I hobbled toward the door but before I could reach it, it opened, revealing a casually dressed Callum. I take note that t-shirts and jeans should be his clothing of choice, regardless the occasion. I’d marry that t-shirt and jeans, I thought to myself. Wait a minute. Where did that come from? He strode in and flipped on the light. I squinted my eyes at the sudden brightness.

“Sorry, I didn’t wake you, did I?” He asked, then noticed me bleeding. “Oh, crap!” He set down the cups of coffee and bag he was carrying on the table with our clothing and knelt at my level. “You okay? Here.” He grabbed his bath towel and pressed it lightly against the small laceration.

“It’s really not that bad,” I offered, slightly embarrassed but growing fascinated by the masculine hand still at my knee. Callum surprises me by taking my hand but before I can read too much into it, he replaces his hand with mine.

“Keep pressure on it,” he said, before standing and spinning toward, what I assumed, was our cooling breakfast.

He reached for the bag and pulled out two bagels and cream cheese.

“I hope you like bagels,” he smirked.

“I like them. You did good, Callum.”

“How do you take your coffee?” He asked.

I don’t have the heart to tell him that I don’t actually drink coffee. I’m a tea kinda’ girl but at the risk of ruining a lovely breakfast I say, “sugar and cream, please.” I can drink it, I just don’t like it all that much.

We sit in companionable silence sipping our coffee, well, he was sipping, I was gulping to get rid of it, and eating our bagels.

“Your hair looks fabulous, by the way,” he teases.

A deep flush creeps up my neck and settles smack dab on my heated cheeks. I quickly stand and cross the room to the glass above the soundboard, smoothing out my crazy locks, attempting to tame them into a somewhat normal style.