The Coincidence of Callie and Kayden(25)

We start down the path beneath the trees, and Seth and Callie emerge at the end. Callie has a long sleeved purple shirt on and her hair is pulled up. My mind drifts back to my dirty dream and how it felt to have her in my arms.

She’s talking to Seth with a serious expression on her face and Seth is waving his arms in the air animatedly. When her eyes meet mine, they light up for a split second then she looks over at Daisy. Callie is the sweetest girl I’ve ever met, but the look on her face is filled with hatred.

I start to wave, when she extends her arm up toward me with an ID card in her hand. “I’m supposed to give this to you.” Her tone is flat.

I take my card from her, offering her a small smile. “Thanks. How did you end up with this?”

She shrugs. “Luke said he grabbed it by accident. He stopped me after class and asked if I could stop by your dorm and give it to you, but since I ran into you, here you go.”

Daisy gives Callie a once over. “Who the hell are you?”

Callie’s eyes are as cold as ice. “Callie Lawrence.”

Daisy sneers maliciously. “Oh my God. It’s the Anorexic Satan Worshipper. Different clothes, but the same skinny body. Starve yourself much?”

“Daisy,” I say in a tight voice. “Back off.”

Seth’s eyes widen, which means Callie must have told him about Daisy. But why? Am I missing something?

Daisy glares at me. “Maybe I should ask you what the f*ck you’re doing? Hanging out with someone like her.”

A light turns off in Callie’s eyes as she starts to step around us, but Seth whisks forward and gets in Daisy’s face.

“I don’t know what you’re being so cocky about girl,” he says. “Take away that push up bra, fake tan, dyed hair, and fancy clothes, and all you’d be is a slightly overweight girl with a really bad nose job.”

Daisy gasps and covers her nose with her hand. “I didn’t get a nose job.”

“Whatever you say.” He smirks at her, links arms with Callie, and waves to me. “See you later, Kayden.”

Callie doesn’t look at me as they dart around us and hurry off toward the front entrance of the campus.

Daisy places her hands on her hips and purses her lips. “Why were you talking to that girl?” she asks. “You remember who she is, right?”

“Yeah, she’s Callie Lawrence.” I shrug and head up the sidewalk. “She was in my grade at school and was really quiet.”

“She was also a freak.” She laces her fingers through mine and it sends a feeling of numbness through my body. “She’s anorexic and used to wear all those baggy clothes. She had that God awful haircut and never talked to anyone.”

“She’s not anorexic or a Satan Worshiper.” I shake my head. “And she wasn’t always like that, nor is she like that anymore. She’s pretty normal.” And sad. And every time I look at her it rips at my heart. “Besides, she’s helped me out with some stuff.”

“What kind of stuff?” she questions, giving me a hard stare, like she’s about to claw my eyes out. “Are you sleeping with her? Because if you are, that’s disgusting and pathetic.”

For a second I consider telling her that I am, then stand there and watch her walk away, ridding her from my life. But then what the hell would I do? Date someone else? Date Callie? As much as my mind loves that idea of that—and my dick—she’s too good for me and even from the few moments I’ve spent with her, I’ve felt everything way too much.

“No, I didn’t sleep with her. She’s just someone I talk to sometimes,” I say, and it’s the partial truth, because that’s who Callie needs to be to me.

Callie

There’s no one else at the library, except for the librarian who’s pushing a cart around, putting books back on the shelves. I wonder if she lives alone, has cats—I wonder if she’s happy.

“So how much time has to go by before we can talk about what happened?” Seth asks, fanning through the pages of a textbook.

I feel terrible, like a child, only I’m not anymore. I’m a grown woman, in college, yet I reacted like I’m in high school. I hate that crossing paths with someone from my past can throw me back to the darkness and sadness that may always be a part of me.

I shrug, highlighting a note on a page with a bright yellow marker. “What’s there to talk about?”