Callum & Harper

“Hmm,” he said, eyeing me carefully. “Is okay! You are here now!” He started to walk away but he stops, noticing Harper standing next to me and obviously taken with her.



“Martin, this is Harper. Harper, Martin,” I said, introducing them to one another.



He offered his hand and Harper took it. Martin kissed the back of her hand, making me roll my eyes. “A pleasure,” he said.



“The feeling’s mutual,” Harper said, charming him down to his leather clad feet.



He could only stare at her. She’s a natural magnet.



“Uh,” I interrupted, “Harper and I are looking to see if you’re looking for any help.”



“Of course! Always!” He said, breaking his stare from Harper.



“Martin, what are you talking about? You’ve turned me down several times for getting here too late.”



“But you’ve never brought me such a charming creature before.”



Harper winked at me but I can only sarcastically roll my eyes while Martin starts to walk off.



“Okay, we’ll need to get you an apron,” I said to Harper but Martin stops short.



“Uh no, Harper can host this afternoon. You can bus tables.”



Too tired to argue with him, I nodded in agreement.



“Introduce her to the other girls up front then come back and Rodrigo will give you your apron.”



“Okay,” I said and began to lead Harper toward the front of the restaurant.



Harper looks up at me. “I’d rather bus tables with you,” she whispered, pulling me short halfway toward the podium. Her hand rested on my forearm, sending a concentrated heat to my shoulders and it fell into my chest. “I mean, I’ll be okay up there and everything but I just wanted you to know that I’d rather be with you today.”



I looked down at her face and grinned. “Duh, Harper. I want you with me today, too. If Rodrigo could speak English, I’d make him take your place.”



We both laughed.



“I mean, seriously, it’s okay, I just, well, sort of wanted you to know that I can’t wait until this is over with so we could hang out a little more,” she admitted, red cheeks and all.



“The time will fly by,” I said, “like this.” I snapped.



And snap.



Harper and I worked eight hour shifts, earning two hundred dollars apiece. We took our cash and headed out into the evening. We were both exhausted, though.



“Okay, should we even bother heading to The Hope House?”



“I think we should try, Harper. If it’s one thing I’ve learned on the streets it’s that money is precious. We shouldn’t waste it, if we don’t have to.”



“Agreed. Let’s go.”



It was the weekend, and fortunately for us, the weekends were The Hope House’s least busy times of the week what with people partying and staying with friends and all. Harper and I stood in line close to the stone interior after I convinced her that her bra was the safest place to place our money. That was a strange argument but one I will never forget. She even turned her back toward me to place it. I have never wanted to laugh so hard in my life.



“I have the most incredible sense of deja’ vu,” she teased after fifteen minutes of silence.



“Huh, what do you know! So do I!” I winked. “Wait, except, I don’t remember doing this before.” I push the side of my knee into the back of hers and she stumbled forward but I caught her before she lost her balance completely. This has an unexpected effect and the moment from the subway we had yet to talk about resurfaced in both our eyes and breaths, our bodies close yet again.



Time seemed to stand still for a moment, a song blared but died away as a car passed, a man and woman scream at one another but we barely registered it. I can only stare at her, breathe her eyes in. Our faces inch closer and closer, barely half an inch separates our mouths but neither of us takes it any further. The ultimate teasing. The ultimate flirtation.



“What are we doing, Callum?” She asked, her breath warm against my lips.



“I don’t know,” I whispered, desperate to close my eyes and marry her mouth to mine.



We’re so close, I can feel her eyelashes on my cheeks, get drunk off her hair. Just another half inch and we’d be kissing. One. Half. Inch. “God, you smell good.” I admitted, swallowing loudly.



“So do you,” she panted, her bottom lip jutted out the slightest bit, narrowing the half inch gap.



My hands trembled on her waist. Her hands gripped my shoulders hard. She pulled away slightly and I almost cried out for her to close the distance again but before I can do it, Harper runs both her hands along my jaw line, silencing me with the skill of her touch.



“You have stubble already,” she stated quietly, bringing her mouth close to mine once more, making my stomach tighten in response, in happiness.



“I know. An Irish curse, I think.”



“I didn’t know you were Irish,” she whispered, slowly closing her eyes and opening them equally as languidly, just as inebriated with the moment as I was.



“I’m magically delicious,” I mock delivered.



We both laugh, her bottom lip brushes mine and it sobered us quickly.



Yet, we still didn’t commit, the anticipation growing, butterflies taking residence in both our stomachs. She closed her eyes completely and I follow her silent instruction. I took a deep breath through my nose, letting the buzz swirl through my head.



“Callum!” I heard, breaking our perfect, flawless moment.



Our eyes shot open, regret can be read all over her face and I know mine screams one word, ‘why?’



“Callum!” We heard again, louder. I tore myself from her, studying the direction I heard the voice coming from. “Callum! Over here!” I look to my left and recognize Cherry.



“Cherry? What are you doing here?”



“Oh, just bustin’ my hump trying to find you. Charlie insisted I give you this,” she said, handing me a key to his flat.



“I think I love you, Cherry,” I said, lifting her six foot frame up and twirling her around.



She gave me a goofy face and peeled herself from my hold. “Okay, sweets. I did my part. I got work to do. Tell Charlie he owes me for leaving the Hamptons early for you.” She winked.



“I’ll tell him. Thank you so much for this,” I said.



“No problem, honey. Anything for you.” She pinched my cheek and winked one more time. “Who’s this, baby?” She asked, gesturing toward Harper.



“Cherry, this is Harper. Harper, Cherry.”



Harper holds her hand out. “Nice to meet you, Cherry.”



“Oh, baby, one thing you gotta’ learn about me is I don’t shake hands.” Harper pulled back, offended. “I hug,” she finally offered, pulling Harper in fast. “And any friend of Callum’s, here,” she said, eyeing me dubiously over Harper’s shoulder, “ is a friend of mine, baby. Anything you need, you let me know, ‘kay?”



“Thank you,” Harper said.



“Alright, got places to be, people to see. I’ll see you ‘round, C.” She smiled then leaned in and whisper teased, “Who is this girl who’s stolen my Callum Tate?” She pulled back and waved at Harper. “Take it easy, Harper. Nice to meet you, honey,” she said, heading toward the busy cross street, already signaling for a taxi. “By the way,” she yelled, I’ll put yours and Harper’s name on the list at The Bowery. We go on at eleven.” We watched her get in the cab and it sped off.



“Let’s go,” I said to Harper.



“To Charlie’s, I assume?”



“Of course. We’ve got ourselves a bath tub and a washer and dryer, again. We hit the jackpot, baby,” I said, borrowing a word from Cherry’s vernacular.



Charlie’s flat is in the Village, which is unfortunate that we hadn’t stuck around Martin’s restaurant as it would have spared us the subway fare to The Hope House but then again, I would have missed the kissing dance outside its exterior and I would have paid a million fares to experience that again. It’s an amazing flat but up seven flights and no elevator. By the time we reached the top, we were both slightly winded.



“I don’t know how he does this every day,” I admitted, resting on the wall outside the top of the stairs.



“No kidding. Good gracious, at least he gets his cardio in.”



I opened his door and welcomed Harper in. She stepped through into his cozy loft and glanced around.



“It’s small and he pays a fortune for it but just look at it.”



Inside the five hundred square foot apartment is a small living and kitchen area, a bathroom complete with tub and a platform library loft that houses the bedroom. The entire thing, save for the bathroom, is open with fifteen foot high ceilings and dark stained shelves as far as the eye can see, accept the kitchen wall, even the stairs leading to the library loft have built in shelves. And they’re all full of books. Charlie was the most prolific reader I’d ever met in my life.



“This is amazing,” Jules said.



“Truly,” I said. We both looked in awe upon our cozy surroundings. “So,” I continued, clapping my hands together, “shall we?”



We threw both our bags onto the floor behind his mid-century upholstered sofa, which ran parallel to the long kitchen island. It was an ingenious use of the small space, making it feel much larger than it actually was. I took her to the window in the kitchen next to his small dining set. Through it, was a balcony with wood decking and a virtual ceramic pot garden with ivy growing up the brick facade. Cherry did all of this for Charlie. No, not for Charlie, for Charlie. The girl was head over heels in love with him but he was too busy being blind as a bat to see it. Not wanting to interfere, I never said anything, but the blockhead was taking forever to notice. Maybe Harper might have an idea as to how we can awaken him to the idea? Wait, dude. The last thing you want is a gorgeous, charming Harper talking to Charlie. He’ll steal her. I shook my head to clear it. You’re an idiot. She’s not even yours. She can’t be stolen if she isn’t yours, I argued with myself.



“This is beautiful,” she whispered, her hair dragging across her face as she leaned further out the window to admire the balcony’s garden.



“Yeah, Charlie writes all of his songs out here.” I turned toward Harper. “Lots of inspiration.”



She grinned.



“Laundry?” She asked.



I can’t help but chuckle. “What is it with us and clean clothing?”



“We’re hygienic, I guess?”



“Yeah, again, you never know when we’ll get the chance to clean them again. I’m what you call, ‘opportunistic’.”



“I can relate.” She sighed. “Trust me, I can relate.”



“How about this,” I offered. “We shower and all that jazz, get ready for Cherry’s show, take our stuff and do a load, then head to The Bowery.”



“Deal. I’ll go first so I can dry my hair.”



“You’re hilarious.”