Chapter Four

[allisaurus]

Opening my eyes to a pitch black living room, still curled up in Callum’s arms, I glance over to the DVD player clock and squint until the red numbers come into focus, 2:47 AM. I’m perfectly content spending the rest of the night in this position so I grab the throw blanket off the top of the couch and cover the both of us, drifting back into a peaceful slumber.

When I sleep, I have vivid dreams. Dreams that mirror reality, dreams that break the boundaries of the most impossible actions, dreams that leave me wanting more, dreams that leave me gasping for air. This night was no exception, surrounded by Callum both physically and emotionally, I have the influence needed to dream the most amazing dream, consisting of me and him and us, in a place where nothing could hurt us and nothing could tear us apart. I relish in this dream, not wanting to wake up, even when my brain tells me to I don’t open my eyes, but then I realize that I’ve had this dream before.

It was shortly after I met Andrew, after our madly-in-love romance began. I remember it so clearly, like it was yesterday, this marvelous dream that made me wake up and smile endlessly, that made me think what we had is true. I know it was kind of stupid of me to take a dream as such a serious symbol of Andrew’s commitment but I was young and naïve and I didn’t realize that maybe he wasn’t exactly what he seemed. I had the same dream several times throughout our relationship, the last time being the night before he took that piece of me that I can never get back.

I’m scared now. I’m scared that the same thing is going to happen here, that the reoccurrence of this dream is a foreshadowing of how this is going to end. I jolt back awake again, 3:12 AM. I silently slip out of Callum’s embrace and tiptoe to the kitchen. I head directly to the cabinet whose contents I know all too well and pull out a bottle of wine, nearly empty. I opt for this over the harder liquor because I don’t want to get entirely shitfaced and I don’t want to be hung over in the morning. The ideal situation would be for that angelic boy on my couch to never know that this happened.

I pour the wine into an empty water bottle which is really trashy but I’m not feeling super classy right now so I think that it’s acceptable. I tiptoe further, into the bathroom, and shut the door so that if Callum happens to wake up he can just assume that I’m peeing or something. I sit on the toilet and lean back, rubbing my eyes with my free hand, rubbing them hard until everything gets blurry and there are little black spots everywhere. I do this a lot and it’s probably really not healthy but I like the way my vision slowly comes back into focusing and back into reality.

I drink the alcohol slowly and let my thoughts drift away from the dream. I think about Emily and how just twenty-four hours ago we were in this same room, holding each other’s hair as we got sick from too much partying and how her sleazy Doug or Dave or Dan waited impatiently on the same couch Callum is now sleeping on, waiting to fuck my roommate senseless. I think about how at the bottom of my mind I secretly hope that Emily wouldn’t come back, secretly wish that things could stay like this for a while. The thought that maybe things are moving a little too fast crosses my mind of course but I ignore it because the feeling that Callum gives me is one that time can put no limit on.

I finish the bottle and throw it into the trash can by the toilet and get up, feeling a little bit wobbly which is weird because usually wine doesn’t have that big of an effect on me. Flicking off the light, I leave the bathroom, making my way back to the couch and settling into Callum’s arms once again.

“You were in there for a while. Everything okay?”

His voice surprises me, a deep velvet in the silence of the apartment.

“Yeah. Just a little headache.”

I hope he buys this because I don’t really feel like explaining the dream, the wine, the whole situation. I guess my answer satisfies him because he doesn’t say anything and the room is silent again, as we both fall back into a slumber.

***

9:13 AM and my eyes are wide open, surprised that I slept this long when just yesterday my insomnia was affecting me so strongly. I’m alone on the couch, with the blanket tucked gently around me and a pillow from my room under my head. I hear some clanking in the kitchen and glance towards the area, waiting for my eyes to come into focus before realizing that Callum is in there, digging around in a cupboard. I lift my body from the couch and stretch before walking towards the boy.

“Morning, sunshine! Sleep good?”

His voice is cheery and light, not at all like the deep one from last night or this morning, whatever you want to call it. I’m happily surprised to see that he is wearing only boxers and I can’t stop my eyes from glancing over his body over and over again. His tattoos and bracelets stand out on the tan skin and I feel myself melt a little on the inside.

“Yeah, very good, actually. I hope the couch was good enough for you.”

“It was awesome, didn’t even notice the lumpiness. But the pretty girl laying next to me might’ve helped that a little bit, too.”

He says this with a smile and I instantly feel my heart start pounding faster, butterflies fluttering around not only in my stomach but escaping out into every vein and every artery, coursing through my body, making my cheeks pink, not with embarrassment but admiration. Callum is special, that much I already know for sure but there’s just something else about him that I can’t quite put my finger on but I enjoy it.

He pulls a pan out of the cupboard and sets it onto the stove, turning away from me and heading to the small pantry. We probably don’t have anything that he is looking for and I don’t remember the last time the stove or oven was actually used so whatever he is planning on may turn into a disaster but I give him points for trying. Out of the pantry comes a box of pancake mix and I figure that it’s no use to try and stop him so I head into the bathroom so see how much of a train wreck I am.

As soon as I step into the small room the smell of last night/this morning’s wine is overpowering and I hope that Callum hasn’t been in here yet. I pull out an aerosol can of freshener and spray a liberal amount throughout the space, lemony freshness spreading rapidly through the air. I look in the mirror and groan in disgust at my appearance – hair plastered down, eyes bloodshot – I realize that even the stupidest of cute boys could realize that something aided in making me look this way.

I leave the bathroom and make my way towards my room, the aroma of pancakes instantly filling me and I realize just how hungry I really am. Callum offers a smile my way and flips one of the cakes, which I realize is in the shape of a heart. I close my bedroom door behind me and strip out of the clothes that I’m wearing. I walk to the closet and contemplate what to put on before settling on a pair of sweat pants from my old high school and an orange tank top that shows off my ample chest. I roll the sweats into capris to make it look a little less lazy and run a brush through my hair to try and get some of the nastiness out.

“Matty!”

His shout is shrill and loud and I rush into the kitchen, praying the whole way that nothing was on fire or destroyed.

“Breakfast is ready.”

He smiles big and holds out a plate of pancakes, stacked high, dripping with syrup, two forks stuck in the top of the stack.

“You scared the shit out of me, ya know that?”

His smile turns into a sheepish grin and he holds out his free hand, implying that I should take it. I do and he drags me to the never-before-used dining table, previously covered with trash, but now clean and adorned with two glasses of orange juice and two placemats that I have never seen before in my life. His house-husband mannerisms have me weak at the knees and I sit in front of one of the mats, taking in everything that he has done this morning.

“You really didn’t have to do all of this.”

“You’re letting me stay here, you have to deal with me for a week. Trust me, babe, I had to do this.”

Babe? Did he really just call me that? My heart starts racing at least 95 miles per second and I feel like it’s going to completely burst out of my chest.

“Dealing with you won’t be a problem; it’s me you’ll have to watch out for.”

I try to make my voice sound as steady as possible but it waivers and he probably can tell that I’m having an internal freak-out.

“Nah, I think I will manage just fine with that. Now eat.”

I fulfill his demand and start eating the surprisingly delicious pancakes, which are in the shapes of hearts, stars, and Mickey Mouse. We eat in silence, looking up every once in a while to offer a smile or make a suggestive wink. After we finish eating, Callum stands and gathers the plates and glasses, taking them to the sink and dumping them in. He walks back to me and slides my chair away from the table with little effort and lifts me into his arms, which takes me completely off guard. He walks into my bedroom and lays me on the bed. I realize that I was just up against his mostly naked body and this thought sends electricity through my veins. This electricity increases as he slides onto the bed next to me.

“You look beautiful right now.”

He breathes this into my ear and the sensation of his cool breath on my skin sends shivers down my spine, a feeling I crave and savor.

“I look like shit.”

I say this bluntly and loud, totally ruining the mood but I don’t regret it. I’ve always been a negative person, putting myself down, and I get accused many times of being an attention whore but that’s just not true.

“No. You look gorgeous.”

I know that no matter how hard I try I just won’t be able to believe this, so I smile a little and curl even more into his body in hopes that this will distract him from my negativity. In actuality, it does distract him but the next topic that he wants to talk about is the one that I’ve been trying to avoid.

“Did you enjoy your wine?”

My entire body automatically goes rigid and I roll away from Callum, internally cursing myself while trying to formulate an answer. My thoughts didn’t come together fast enough, though.

“Why’d you need it? You know, I thought we were having a really good night. Sleeping next to you like that, well, I haven’t been that happy in a while.”

When he says this, I feel comfortable enough to roll back around and face him. Looking him straight in the eyes, I give a small, shy smile and take his hand in mine.

“It didn’t have anything to do with you. I was hoping you wouldn’t notice.”

He shifts closer to me and I take this as a sign that maybe he isn’t that upset. In reality, I can’t really imagine why he would be because he sort of knew from the beginning that we drank a lot in this apartment. Despite this thought, I figure that I should give him some sort of explanation to satisfy his interest so that I’m not prodded at all day. I hate that.

“It was just a bad dream, that’s all.”

I move onto my back and stare blankly at the ceiling, still feeling Callum’ somewhat bony hand in mine. The vivid memories of the dream come rushing back to me and, with them, the memories of what happened shortly after I started having it. I will the tears not to come and I’m hoping that they won’t because that would be embarrassing and require more serious explaining.

“Don’t want to talk about it?”

I shake my head and close my eyes. He doesn’t press for more information and I internally thank him. I know now that this boy is something special because every other person in my life would never take a shake of the head as a satisfactory answer. No one except the random guys that would end up in my bed, of course. That lingering fear that maybe this is all he wants me for comes back but I quickly shake it away because if this was the case then I’m sure he would have tried to fuck me already.

Laying here, with this happiness creeping into every inch of my body – into the dark parts of my soul that have been left alone for so long – I realize that this is about the time I should take that little yellow pill. I don’t want to move, don’t want to disrupt this peace that we have found here, so I decide to chance it. Maybe I’ll take it later, or maybe I won’t. Maybe I’ll forget and have a downward spiral or… maybe not.

I open my eyes and stare up at the ceiling for a few seconds before trying to catch Callum’ face in my peripherals. I don’t know if it’s just me or if this happens for everyone, but when I try to turn my eyes to the outer reaches of their sockets, I have some unexplainable fear that they will get stuck there, and it always makes my head dizzy and sore. I decide not to chance this permanent outward vision so I just turn my head towards his and gasp a little bit because there he is, facing me, eyes wide. He isn’t smiling but there is a light behind his rich brown eyes that can speak more than any smile.

“You aren’t one of those creepy guys, right? Or, wait! Are you a vampire who never sleeps and is just gonna watch me twenty-four seven?”

“Yeah, about that,” he holds my hand even tighter and sits up a little bit, “I should probably confess something.”

I hold back a little giggle and wait for him to spill the beans. I like this… this joking, this level of comfort that I haven’t felt in so long.

“Matty… I’m… God, I don’t know how to say this but here it goes, I’m the real-life Edwa – “

He cuts off abruptly due to a long, obnoxious laugh that escapes from behind his lips.

“You’re what? Edward Scissorhands? Just tell me!”

I stick my tongue out in a playful way and I see him glance at it and his eyes seem to grow a little bit larger, if that is at all possible. I take this as some type of sign that he feels a little bit teased by this tongue and I restrain myself from making a comment about how he can be treated by that later.

“I’m Edward Cullen. Those books are based off of my life. I understand if you don’t want to see me anymore. I’m a monster!”

“Fuck that, I am not being your Bella Swan. I don’t stutter, thank you very much.”

He laughs again, a laugh that I am falling in love with. Oddly enough, I can almost hear his Southern accent coming through in the laugh. The perfect combination.

“Good, because I hate that shit. I sleep, don’t worry about that. I sleep a lot, actually. You’ll have to drag me out of bed.”

I move closer to him and use my free hand to move his free hand to my side, enclosing me in a Callum blanket. I probably should have asked before I did this because I really have no solid evidence to prove that he wants to be this close but he isn’t protesting and I’m feeling brave so I just go with it. I feel his hand pushing against me and he is now laying entirely on his side so I move to do the same. His hand pulls me into him and we are now incredibly close. I feel the warmth coming off of his skin and I listen to the rhythmic beating of his heart, trying to control my breathing so that the two cadences match.

“What do you normally do on a… Thursday? Yeah, Thursday morning.”

He speaks low and his breath is warm on me. It doesn’t smell like liquor and that is a refreshing change.

“Normally… ha, normally I’m nursing a hangover or making sure Emily still has a pulse. We don’t have that eventful of a life.”

“No work?”

It didn’t even cross my mind that I would probably have to explain the situation with work and money and how we afford this apartment and our partying lifestyle. I’m so not in the mood to do that now, either. I don’t want to ruin the perfectness of this situation, my head resting against his chest.

“That’s a story for another time. What’s this tattoo?”

I stab his chest tattoo with my finger and realize that even though he has been shirtless for quite some time, I haven’t even paid attention to what this tattoo says or means or looks like, for that matter. I guess you could say I had bigger things on my mind. The words are etched in black ink. They are a simple cursive, not any of that elaborate writing that can get so hard to read. I hadn’t noticed before but there is a small dove to the left of the words, spreading it’s wings in flight.

“Pursue the trembling doves? That’s what it is.”

“Don’t be a smartass!”

I give him a pout and roll away, out of his grasp.

“Aww, I’m sorry beautiful.”

The last word comes out as a whisper and my stomach is instantly filled with butterflies and my heart skips a beat. Callum lays his arm over me and tries to roll me over to face him but I use my moderate strength to resist, pouting the whole time. I feel his lips lightly graze over my cheek and all of a sudden I am on my back and he is on top of me, planting kisses all over my face but avoiding my lips. His hands slowly work their way down my body and the first thought that emerges in my mind is that he wants to get in my pants. His fingers stop on my sides and he, surprisingly, starts tickling me, somehow knowing the one spot that drives me crazy.

I somehow manage to gasp out a “stop!” and my breathing slowly returns to normal. Callum is still straddling me and has the goofiest grin on his face that makes him look even more attractive.

“No more pouting, miss Matty. Now, get up.”

“But, but, but! I want to know the story.”

I flash a coy little smile and bat my eyelashes but this doesn’t work and he pulls me off of the bed and into a tight embrace. After a few seconds, he lets go and kisses my forehead – still avoiding the lips – and drags me out of the room.

“Now that’s a story for another time.”