The Coincidence of Callie and Kayden(26)

He snatches the marker from my hand and it leaves a yellow streak along the paper. “The fact that you just let that damn bitch walk all over you and the fact that Kayden barely said anything.”

“Why would he? He never did before. I’m not his problem.” I peek up at the window where a trail of sunlight streams in. “What happened out there was the story of my life. Soon she’ll be gone and I won’t have to think about her.”

He drops the marker onto the table and gazes out at the trees. “What happened with that girl is not okay. You need to grow some confidence and stand up for yourself. Next time she does something like that, pull those tacky extensions out of her hair.”

“She wears extensions?” I ask and he nods. I smile, but then shake my head. “If it were the people who tortured you in high school, would you have been able to be so confident?”

“We’re not talking about me,” he presses with hard eyes. He shuts his book and crosses his arms on top of it. “We’re talking about you.”

“I don’t want us to talk about me anymore. It’s giving me a headache.” I collect the marker from the table and put the cap on. “How about we call it a day for studying. There are some other projects I need to work on.”

He sighs and gathers his books into a stack, before pushing away from the table. “Fine, but when I get back to my room, I’m adding don’t take f*cking shit from anyone to the list.”

Kayden

It’s been a week since I talked to Callie. The last time was during Daisy’s random visit that ended in a meaningless f*ck and a half-hearted good-bye. I can’t tell who’s avoiding who when it comes to Callie and I, but the more time we spend apart, the more I think about her.

My mom also made a sporadic stop at my dorm yesterday when she came to visit the town, which is the bull shit lie she uses whenever she’s taking a break from her drinking to go to a spa and sober up. She has a thing for painkillers and a whole lot of wine. It has been that way for as long as I can remember, which might be why she never stopped the fights. I tried to tell her once about my dad but she didn’t seem too eager to do anything about it.

“Well, you’re just going to have to try harder,” she had said, taking a sip of her wine. Some of it spilled down the front of her shirt, but she didn’t seem to notice. “Sometimes we just have to deal with things the best that we can. It’s called life, Kayden. Your dad’s a good man. He puts a roof over our heads and gives us more than a lot of guys would. Without him, we’d probably be on the streets.”

I stood at the end of the table, clutching my hands into fists. “But I’m trying my hardest and he only seems to get madder.”

She turned the page of her magazine and when I looked into her eyes, she seemed like a ghost, absent, as lost as I was. “Kayden, there’s nothing I can do. I’m sorry.”

I left the room, pissed off, wishing she could be the other person for two damn minutes; the one who hosted parties and charity events and smiled. The one that wasn’t a f*cking zombie dosed up on pain meds.
***
“What the hell is your problem today?” Luke chucks the football down the field near the field post so it’s far out of my reach. We’re in our uniforms, sweaty, and exhausted, but I can’t calm the f*ck down.

“Can we please call it a day?” His cheeks are red from underneath his helmet and his shirt is soaked with sweat. “I’m f*cking tired. Practice ended two hours ago.”

“Yeah, I guess.” I kick one of the cones and it dents before flying over toward the bleachers. Kellie and another girl are sitting on the bottom row, with books in front of them, observing us as they talk and pretend to study.

I glance up at the grey sky and around at the bleachers that enclose the field. “How late is it?”

He shrugs as he starts across the green field toward the tunnel that leads to the locker room, taking off his helmet. “I don’t know, but it’s pretty damn late and I’m done.”

I follow after him, but out of the corner of my eye, I see Callie sitting in the grass below a tree at the far end of the field, on the other side of the fence. There are papers spread out in front of her and she’s chewing on a pen as she reads over them.

I realize that maybe I’m the one avoiding her because she makes me feel things I’m not used to; the dirty dreams, the protectiveness, the way my stupid heart starts to beat like it’s finally alive. Unlatching the strap below my chin, I slip off my helmet as I make my way over to her. She’s so absorbed in whatever is written on the papers that she doesn’t notice me. Gripping onto the top of the fence, I swing my legs over it and land on the other side. Adjusting the sleeves of the shirt under my jersey, I stop just a few feet away from her.