Becoming Grey: Episode 8

Chapter Eight 

September 29th,  2017 — Night  

By the time Callie and Myles turned onto the residential streets west of Ridgemont High, the noise from the football field had begun to fall away behind them. 

It did not disappear all at once. The stadium lights still glowed above the rooftops several blocks back, washing the low clouds with a faint white haze, and every so often another cheer rolled across the neighborhood, distant enough now that it sounded less like hundreds of voices and more like weather. Cars continued to crawl away from the school in uneven lines, headlights sweeping over lawns and mailboxes as people headed home, but the farther Callie and Myles walked, the more Ridgemont settled back into itself. 

Here, the streets were lined with modest two-story houses and split-levels built far enough apart to leave broad lawns between them. Porch lights burned above front steps. A television flickered blue behind somebody’s living-room curtains. Sprinklers had been shut off for the season, bicycles lay forgotten beside garages, and somewhere nearby a dog barked twice before apparently deciding whatever had offended it was no longer worth the effort. 

The night had grown colder while they were at the game. 

Callie noticed it the moment they left the crowd. Without hundreds of people packed around her and the stadium lights pouring heat down over the bleachers, the September air had sharpened considerably. The wind moved more freely through the neighborhood, catching at the bottom of her T-shirt and raising goosebumps along her arms. She untied the hoodie from around her waist and pulled it over her head while walking, momentarily blinding herself in the fabric. 

Myles glanced over as she struggled with the neck opening. “You good?” 

Callie’s head finally emerged, bringing half her hair with it in every possible direction. She shoved a few strands away from her face and gave him a dry look. “Perfect.” 

He laughed, slowing slightly so she could get both arms into the sleeves without walking into somebody’s mailbox. “You look perfect.” 

Callie tugged the sweatshirt down over her waist and eyed him suspiciously. “That was smooth.” 

“I’m learning,” Myles said, sounding pleased with himself. 

“Debatable.” 

His grin widened, but he let the insult pass. 

That was when Callie noticed their hands. 

More accurately, she noticed they were still holding them. 

She could not remember exactly when it had happened. Somewhere between leaving the stadium and crossing the first parking lot, apparently. Maybe Myles had reached for hers. Maybe she had reached for his. Callie honestly did not know, which somehow made realizing it worse. 

His fingers were threaded through hers as naturally as though they had been walking that way all evening. 

Callie looked down for half a second. 

Then she looked straight ahead again. 

Her face felt warmer. 

It was the wind. 

Obviously. 

September wind was well known for making specifically your cheeks warm while leaving the rest of you freezing. 

She did not let go. 

Neither did Myles. 

They walked another half block in a silence that was not exactly uncomfortable, though Callie suddenly became much more aware of everything than she had been thirty seconds earlier. The warmth of his palm. The occasional brush of his jacket against her sleeve. The way their footsteps had fallen almost naturally into rhythm. 

Myles glanced sideways at her. 

Callie caught him doing it. 

“What?” she asked. 

His attention snapped back toward the sidewalk. “What?” 

“You just looked at me.” 

“I’m allowed to look at you.” 

Callie turned her head enough to study him. “Not like that.” 

Myles laughed under his breath. “There are rules now?” 

“There are always rules.” 

“Good to know.” 

They walked a few more yards. Dry leaves scraped along the curb ahead of them, tumbling over one another whenever the wind picked up. 

Myles seemed to be thinking about something. Callie could almost see the sentence assembling behind his expression, which should probably have warned her. 

“You know,” he said eventually, “you’re not really like most nerds.” 

Callie slowly turned toward him. 

Myles saw her face and immediately regretted everything. 

“That sounded bad.” 

“A little,” Callie said. 

“No, I didn’t mean it like that.” He dragged his free hand through his hair, already trying to repair the damage. “I just mean you’re funny.” 

Callie raised one eyebrow. “Unlike other nerds?” 

“No.” Myles shook his head quickly. “That’s not what I meant.” 

“Because that sounded a lot like what you meant.” 

“It wasn’t.” 

Callie’s mouth twitched. She was enjoying this now. “Okay. So what did you mean?” 

Myles looked ahead again, as though perhaps the answer might be written somewhere on the sidewalk. “You don’t always have your face buried in a book.” 

Callie stared at him. 

He winced. 

“Okay,” he said before she could answer. “Somehow that was worse.” 

“Way worse.” 

“I know.” 

Callie laughed and shook her head. “What exactly do you think nerds do all day?” 

“I don’t know.” 

“You’re the one who brought it up.” 

“I’m becoming painfully aware of that.” 

“So what?” Callie continued. “Do we all go home after school and disappear into some secret underground nerdery?” 

Myles smiled despite himself. “No.” 

“Do we have robes?” 

“No.” 

“Meetings?” 

“No.” 

“Membership cards?” 

He laughed. “Probably.” 

Callie looked offended. “Probably?” 

“I don’t know. Maybe you get one after building enough robots.” 

“I have never built a robot.” 

“You built a door that opens itself.” 

“That was not a robot.” 

“It moved.” 

“That is not the definition of a robot.” 

Myles laughed again, and Callie could feel some of his embarrassment easing. 

“Can I start over?” he asked. 

Callie pretended to consider it, dragging the decision out longer than necessary. “I don’t know. This has been pretty entertaining.” 

“Please.” 

She lifted their joined hands slightly, gesturing with them toward the sidewalk ahead. “Fine. Start over.” 

Myles took a breath. 

Then another. 

Callie glanced at him. “This is a lot of preparation.” 

“I’m trying not to screw it up again.” 

“That strategy has not worked so far.” 

“Thank you for the encouragement.” 

“You’re welcome.” 

Myles shook his head, but he was smiling. When he spoke again, his voice had lost some of the joking tone. 

“What I meant was that you surprised me.” 

That took a little of the teasing out of Callie. 

She looked over at him. “How?” 

“When Luke first told me about you, he said you were really into science and computers and stuff.” Myles shrugged, his shoulders rising beneath his jacket. “So I guess I had this picture in my head.” 

Callie narrowed her eyes. “Oh, this should be good.” 

“It wasn’t bad.” 

“Glasses?” 

“No.” 

“Pocket protector?” 

Myles laughed. “No.” 

“Lab coat?” 

“No.” 

“Socially incapable?” 

“Definitely not.” 

Callie nodded with exaggerated satisfaction. “Good. Glad I cleared that hurdle.” 

Myles glanced over at her, smiling. “You cleared it.” 

“Barely?” 

His expression changed slightly. The answer came more seriously than she expected. 

“No. Not barely.” 

Callie went quiet. 

For a moment there was only the sound of their shoes against the sidewalk and the wind moving through the branches overhead. 

Myles looked ahead again. “You’re just different from what I expected.” 

“That still sounds dangerous,” Callie said, though her voice had softened. 

“I know.” 

“You should probably explain before you make it worse again.” 

He laughed once under his breath. “That’s fair.” 

They passed beneath another streetlight. The pale yellow light washed over his face, and Callie noticed the faint color already beginning around his ears. 

Myles took another breath. 

“You’re really pretty.” 

Callie’s teasing smile faltered. 

She looked at him, but Myles had already turned his attention toward the houses across the street, apparently finding somebody’s darkened front porch suddenly fascinating. 

“And you’re funny,” he continued. “And you’re smart, but not in that way where you have to prove you’re smarter than everybody else.” 

Callie recovered enough to give him a look. “I can absolutely be annoying about being right.” 

“Oh, definitely.” 

She bumped his shoulder with hers. 

Myles laughed. “See?” 

“You walked into that.” 

“I know.” 

“And sometimes people deserve to know they’re wrong.” 

“That’s kind of my point.” 

Callie looked at him again. “How does that help your argument?” 

“Because you don’t do it just to show off.” Myles glanced over at her. “Usually.” 

“Usually?” 

“I’m leaving myself some protection here.” 

“That’s probably smart.” 

His thumb moved almost absently against the side of her hand. Callie felt it immediately. 

She tried not to think about it. 

Myles continued, apparently unaware that she had suddenly become extremely conscious of their joined hands. “You can talk about basically anything. Games, science, school. Whatever. You don’t act like you’re too cool for stuff.” 

Callie gave him a skeptical look. “That’s because I’m not cool.” 

“You are, though.” 

She looked at him. 

This time Myles did not look away. 

“At least I think you are,” he added. 

For once, Callie had no comeback ready. 

She turned her eyes toward the sidewalk, watching their shadows stretch ahead beneath the streetlight. 

Myles seemed to understand that he had managed to say something without immediately ruining it. 

Naturally, that lasted about five seconds. 

“And you make fun of me constantly.” 

Callie laughed, grateful for the easier territory. “There it is.” 

“I’m still deciding whether I like that.” 

“You like it.” 

Myles looked over at her. “You seem very confident.” 

“I know you.” 

“You’ve known me for like a month.” 

“Long enough.” 

His smile became crooked. “Yeah. I probably like it.” 

“Obviously.” 

They walked another few houses before Myles spoke again. This time his voice was quieter. 

“And every time I’m around you, my brain kind of stops working.” 

Callie laughed softly. “I noticed.” 

“I’m serious.” 

Something about the way he said it made her look at him. 

The embarrassment was still there, but he was not joking now. Myles rubbed the back of his neck with his free hand, his gaze dropping toward the sidewalk. 

“I’ll think of something normal to say,” he explained, “and then you look at me, and suddenly it’s gone.” 

Callie’s smile returned, though smaller this time. “Gone?” 

“Completely.” 

“That sounds medical.” 

“It might be.” 

“You should probably see somebody.” 

Myles gave her a sideways look. “See, this is exactly what I mean.” 

“What?” 

“I’m trying to tell you something nice.” 

“And I’m listening.” 

“You’re making fun of me.” 

“I can do both.” 

He laughed, shaking his head. “Apparently.” 

Callie watched him for another few steps. 

“My mouth just starts saying whatever it wants,” Myles continued. “Then like three seconds later my brain comes back and tells me I sounded like an idiot.” 

“So that explains the gorgeous face thing.” 

He pointed at her with his free hand. “Exactly.” 

“And recognizing me by my walk.” 

“That too.” 

“The nerd comment.” 

Myles sighed. “Currently happening.” 

Callie laughed hard enough that she had to turn her face away. 

Myles groaned. “See?” 

She looked back at him, still smiling. “See what?” 

“I started this conversation trying to compliment you, and now you’ve made an itemized list of every stupid thing I’ve said since I met you.” 

“That is pretty impressive.” 

“Thank you.” 

“That wasn’t a compliment.” 

“I hear that alot but I’m taking whatever I can get.” 

Their laughter faded gradually, leaving them in another stretch of quiet. 

This one felt different. 

Callie nudged a dry leaf with the toe of her sneaker and watched it skate along the concrete ahead of them. Her cheeks still felt warm. Blaming the cold had become increasingly stupid. 

“I was just giving you shit,” she said. 

Myles turned his head toward her. “I know.” 

“No, I mean about the nerd thing.” Callie kept looking down as they walked. “I knew what you were trying to say.” 

There was a short pause. 

“You did?” Myles asked. 

Callie nodded. “Mostly.” 

His eyebrows lifted. “And you still let me spend the last five minutes digging myself out of it?” 

That finally made her look at him. 

“Obviously.” 

Myles laughed. “That seems cruel.” 

“You survived.” 

“Barely.” 

Callie smiled. “You say that a lot.” 

“Being around you is difficult.” 

“Poor thing.” 

“I’m serious. It’s exhausting.” 

Callie bumped her shoulder into his again. “You know you can let go of my hand whenever you want.” 

The words escaped before she had fully considered them. 

For a moment, neither of them spoke. 

Their footsteps continued. 

Callie became painfully aware of the exact pressure of his fingers against hers. 

Myles looked down at their hands. 

Then he looked at her. 

“I didn’t say I wanted to.” 

Something small and unpleasantly fluttery happened in Callie’s stomach. 

She immediately looked ahead again. 

“Good,” she said. 

Myles’s smile appeared slowly. “Good?” 

Callie could hear the satisfaction creeping into his voice and refused to give him any more ammunition. “Don’t push it.” 

“I wasn’t going to.” 

She glanced sideways at him. “You absolutely were.” 

“Maybe a little.” 

“Exactly.” 

They continued walking, and Callie felt his thumb brush lightly over the side of her hand again. 

This time she was fairly certain he knew he was doing it. 

That realization did absolutely nothing useful for the temperature of her face. 

Several houses passed before she finally spoke again. 

“Thanks.” 

Myles looked over. “For what?” 

Callie instantly wished he had simply accepted the word and kept walking. 

She shoved her free hand into the pocket of her hoodie. “For what you said.” 

His expression softened. “Oh.” 

Callie pointed at him. “Don’t.” 

Myles blinked. “Don’t what?” 

“Make it weird.” 

“I said one word.” 

“You were about to say something.” 

“I was going to say ‘you’re welcome.’” 

Callie studied him suspiciously. 

“That’s it?” she asked. 

“That’s it.” 

“Fine. That’s acceptable.” 

Myles laughed. “Thank you for approving my response.” 

“You’re welcome.” 

He shook his head as they walked. “You’re impossible.” 

Callie glanced at him. “And yet here you are.” 

The answer came immediately. 

“Yeah.” 

There was no joke behind it. 

Callie looked at him. 

Myles held her gaze for a moment before looking ahead again, the smallest smile still lingering on his face. 

“Yeah,” he said again, quieter. “Here I am.” 

They kept walking. 

The stadium had almost completely disappeared behind the houses now. Only the tops of the lights remained visible above the trees, and even the traffic had thinned enough that they could hear dry leaves scratching along the curb whenever the wind stirred them. 

Callie had walked these kinds of Ridgemont streets hundreds of times. Coming home from Maggie’s house. Riding her bike when she was younger. Cutting through neighborhoods on summer evenings when nobody wanted to go home yet. 

Tonight felt different. 

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