Unlike me, Callie seems like someone who likes being alone. She never goes out with friends and I've never seen any friends come to her house. Maybe she doesn't have any here, but if that's true, I don't know why she'd want to spend her summer here.
During dinner, I considered asking her about that book. I wanted to, but then I didn't, and I don't think I will. The way she yelled at me for touching it was strange. Why would she get so upset about that? Asking her about it would make her even more upset so I'm not going to.
Since she never tells me anything about herself, I looked her up online but couldn't find anything. No Facebook page or Twitter account or any other social media presence.
"We're working?" she asks. "Tonight?"
"I need to do some work on the kitchen since I wasn't able to do any this weekend. I thought maybe you could go through some more boxes, unless you have plans."
"I could work for an hour or two." She drinks the last of her milkshake. She ate all of her burger too, which is unusual because she normally just picks at her food and doesn't eat much. "You're not going to blast your country music, are you?"
"Hell, yeah, I am." I smile. "I want to hear you sing again."
"I'm not going to sing."
I pull her chair out for her. "We'll see about that."
As she gets up and goes around me, I'm tempted to grab her and kiss her, but I think I should hold back on that. Things are moving a little too fast for us and I feel like I should slow it down.
Two hours later, we've got the music blasting and we're both lost in our work, me in the kitchen and her in the living room. Every time I go in there to check on her, I find her either shaking her hips to the song or mouthing the words. God, it's funny. She doesn't even know she's doing it, so I recorded a few seconds of it on my phone to show her later.
To me, this is a perfect night. Eating burgers out on the deck, then doing some work while listening to music, with Callie in the next room over. Most people would say the work part isn't any fun, but to me it is. I like working on houses, seeing them transform before my eyes. And I like the feel of hard physical labor, using my body as one of the many tools that help get the job done. I'm always tired after a day of work, but it's a good tired. A tired that proves I accomplished something.
I grab a bottle of beer from the cooler and pop the cap off and take a swig. "Callie, you want a beer?" I yell over the music.
She pushes through the plastic that sections off my work zone. "Sure, I'll take one."
I give her mine and grab another one from the cooler.
She holds the bottle up. "Did you already drink out of this?"
"Does it matter?" I pop the cap off the one in my hand.
"Well, yeah."
"We've kissed. Many times. And you're worried about my germs?"
"I guess you're right." She goes to drink it, but I take it from her and hand her the new one. "There. No germs on this one."
"Thanks." She takes a drink.
I sit down on the wooden crate I found in the garage. "You sticking around or heading home?"
"It's still early. I'll stick around for another hour or so."
"That reminds me." I yank my wallet out and hand her five twenty-dollar bills. "That's for the past couple days."
"This is too much. Here." She holds out two of the bills. "Take this."
"It's yours. I told you twenty bucks an hour and you worked almost five hours."
"You said fifteen originally. That's plenty. I'm just going through boxes. It's not that hard."
"You deserve twenty for putting up with me." I bring the beer to my mouth and take a long swig.
"You're not that bad," she says. "I'm getting used to you."
"That's good. Because I was thinking when you're done going through the boxes you could help with the renovation."
She laughs. "Yeah, right. I told you I don't even know how to use a hammer."
"Come here." I motion her toward me as I go over and grab the hammer.
"What are you doing?"
"You're going to learn how to use a hammer."
"Right now? There's nothing to hammer."
"Take this." I give her the hammer, then lead her to the wall where the cabinets used to be. "I'll be covering up this wall with the new cabinets so you can put as many nails in it as you want." I take a nail from the box and hand it to her. "Hold it against the wall, then line the hammer up and lightly tap the nail head."
"I don't want to do this. I'm going to end up hitting my fingers."
"Not if you focus on the head of the nail." I stand behind her. "We'll do it together first. Get the nail in position."
She holds it up against the wall. "Like this?"
"Make sure it's straight." I put my arms on each side of her and adjust the nail. "If it's not straight, it'll go in crooked or you'll nick the edge of it with the hammer and end up hitting your hand. Okay, ready? Just tap the head."
She taps it so light it doesn't move.
"A little harder than that," I tell her.
"I'm going to crush my fingers."
"You won't if you keep your eye on the nail." I put my hand over hers on the hammer. "Like this." I tap the nail in. "You feel the amount of pressure I used?"
"Yeah."
"So start like that, then once it's in position, you can hit it harder. Drive it right into the wall."