Dream Walker

Chapter 9 | Pasta Chef

Callie never claimed to be right all the time. Though she was confident in her intelligence and rationality, she could be wrong sometimes. Assuming an afternoon involving Alex with Quinn as a buffer would be reasonably tolerable was one of those rare instances she was wrong. It all started on the car ride back to her apartment. While she was able to ride up front and close her eyes against the continual pounding in her head, Alex and Quinn wouldn't shut up.

They weren't blasting heavy metal or anything, but their excited chatter about some soccer star they both adored was enough to increase her headache from a gentle drum beat to a sharp stabbing sensation throughout her skull. Every word from Alex's mouth increased her frustration, and she was seriously considering throwing him from the moving vehicle. His stupid voice with that stupid beautiful accent was causing these homicidal fantasies. In a way, his death at her hands would be his own damn fault.

Then, when they arrived at the apartment, things continued to get worse. Instead of just discussing soccer, they turned on the TV to watch the game Quinn had recorded earlier, and the loud voice of a sports announcer blared from the living room. Between the TV and the guys' continuing debate, Callie couldn't take the noise anymore. She made a hasty retreat to her room, closing the door gently for her own sake. She didn't bother turning the light on, since she could navigate her room perfectly well in the dark.

As she stripped off her jacket and jeans, she walked over to the white noise machine she kept on the dresser and turned it up to the maximum volume. While it didn't completely overwhelm the noise coming from outside her room, it went a long way in easing her frustration.

Callie flopped onto her bed, pulled a blanket over her body, and sent Quinn a quick text to let him know why she would be hiding in her room. She felt bad for abandoning him to make the chicken parm alone after promising to cook with him, but she wasn't feeling well enough to function at that moment. She knew he would understand.

After an hour of lying in her bed, not sleeping but not fully conscious, Callie dropped her legs over the side of the bed and forced herself to stand up. She ran a hand through her hair, letting out a few breaths to maintain the calm state she had achieved, and reached down to put on the jeans she'd dropped on the floor. Before she could let herself reconsider, she grabbed the door handle and opened the door, allowing the light to come in.

She gave her eyes a few seconds to adjust to the ambient light in the rest of the apartment, then marched into the kitchen, smelling the heavenly scent of chicken and pasta. Mouth watering, Callie hoisted her body up onto a barstool along the kitchen island. She couldn't help but grin at the sight in front of her. Quinn and Alex were both wearing aprons and working like a team to cook the food she'd smelled. Based on the delicious scent, they were doing very well.

They both turned to look at her, exposing the aprons that Callie had bought for Quinn and Lyn. Quinn was wearing his apron, which displayed the words "I Rub My Own Meat." Alex, however, was wearing Lyn's, and it proclaimed "Feelin' Barbecute Today." In contrast to the ridiculous aprons they were wearing, both looked worried, their faces displaying a hint of sympathy. Callie sighed before they could ask how she was or pointlessly apologize for how bad she felt.

"I get it, I look like crap. I pay rent here, so I'm allowed," she deadpanned. "I see you two managed to get dinner going without me."

Callie pressed the balls of her feet into the metal bars along the bottom of the stool and leaned over the counter to grab a warm piece of garlic bread that was still sitting on a foil-lined baking sheet. She took a bite and moaned her approval. "Quinn, you've really perfected the Texas Toast this time."

"Actually," Quinn interjected, "Alex made that with actual bread and garlic and olive oil. Imagine that?" He and Alex locked eyes and smiled, seeming to share an inside joke. Callie continued to munch on the bread, not caring about Alex's presence anymore if he could make food that delicious.