Free Callum & Harper by Fisher Amelie

    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.”
    “Never lived with a girl before?”
    “Actually, no,” I said thoughtfully, just now realizing the truth of that.
    “Alright, go.”
    “Thank you, Callum.”
    “Of course. Think nothing of it.”
    “No, thank you .”
I nodded as she traipses off to the bathroom.
     
    Once I heard the shower running, I sat on Charlie’s sofa and picked up the book he was reading before he left, face down to save his page. I started reading the first paragraph. The main character, Elliott, professed his life and his love for this girl named Jules. Pretty good, but not my flavor, if you catch my drift. I prefer non-fiction. When I heard Charlie’s blow dryer start, I smiled, thankful that the doofus had long enough hair that he could supply Harper with what she needed to tend to her own silky strands.
    Twenty minutes later, the door opened. Still sitting, I glanced up, full intending to return to my page but was struck dumb. The book slid from my grip, spilling to the floor. I had to remind myself that she was standing there, expecting me to speak but was literally driven mute.
    Harper stood under the door frame, her feet were clad in black combat boots but she pulled them off well with a horizontal stripe black and white floor length cotton dress that painted every curve of her body. Modest. Modest yet sexy as hell. Her lengthy locks flowed to her waist and curved at the ends.
    But the show stopper were the eyes. Those incredible eyes I could spot from a mile away, sharp and almost a translucent gold.
    “ Good God, Harper. I can’t go out with you looking like that,” I blurted.
    She set both hands on her hips, “And why the heck not?”
    “ Because I’ll be in jail before Cherry can even go on. I’ll have to fight off every bloke who tries to talk to you. No, you have to change. You’re going to get me in trouble,” I said, sincere as I’ve ever been.
    It was true. I couldn’t step out of Charlie’s flat with her looking like that, not if I didn’t feel like leaving her side wearing a pair of handcuffs. Also, now, I’d