I hang up, invigorated.

I turn and slap my hands together. "Okay, Harper Bailey, you're comin' with me."

"I am?" She said, looking hopeful.

"Yeah, it's not going to be ideal," repeating Charlie's words, "but it's going to be better than staying the night outside in this heat."

We arrive at Charlie's studio around eight thirty in the evening. I ride my bike over the curb and onto the sidewalk, next to the entrance. Harper takes her helmet off and I get assaulted by her fragrant hair again and almost lose my balance.

"Where are you going to lock up your bike?"

"I'm not." I smile.

"Aren't you afraid it'll get stolen?"

"Nah, because I'm taking it inside."

"Can you do that?" She asked.

"Yeah, I've done it a million times, all the floors are concrete where we're going and I always promise Henry, the owner, to keep a mat beneath it to catch any oil." I point to the second story window above the door. "That's his apartment right there."

"Will he be cool about all this?" She asks, skepticism leaking from her tone.

"Yeah, I think so. Henry knows my situation. He never lets me stay more than one night, though. I suppose he's afraid I'll move in and that's against some sort of tenant code city thing. He's not licensed for that and a real stickler for the rules. The city has it out for the rockers, I guess." I winked, like a dumbass. I immediately regretted the cheese move.

I pressed the buzzer in awe of my total loss of cool. This girl seeped the 'smooth' outta' me.

"Henry," Henry announced in a static voice.

"Henry, it's Callum. Did Charlie call you?"

We hear another buzz for the door and I opened it. I clicked the buzzer again and hear the other end connect but Henry says nothing.

"Thanks, Henry."

"No problem, Callum. See you in the morning, dude."

"And that was Henry."

"How old is he?" Harper asked.

"I don't know, like thirty?"

"Cool."

"Alright, hold the door for me?" I ask.

She whips inside the covered alcove and holds the door as wide as it will go. I give my bike two hard shoves and it lurches over the step to the alcove and into the building foyer. I lead Harper to Charlie's studio in the very back.

"It's the last door on the right."

She jumped ahead of my bike and opened the door for me as I wheeled in the bike. Charlie's studio space is large and it should be, because it costs him a small fortune but apparently it paid for itself when he recorded for random bands when he wasn't on the road.

Harper let out a low whistle.

"Incredible," she said, turning around.

I set my bike up in an open corner of his instrument room and opened one of the only closet doors near the entrance. I pulled out a large rubber pad that Charlie kept inside for my motorcycle and tossed it underneath the motor.

I turned around and caught her watching me. It reminded me that I was alone, with an unbelievably beautiful girl, and that no one was around. I tucked my hands in my back pockets to keep from seizing this stranger and kissing her until she gasped for air.

"So," I said, rocking back on my heels. I grabbed my bag. "Listen, I've done this a couple of times. It gets old fast but the one thing I've learned is to take advantage of anything you can while you can because you may not have the opportunity to do it for awhile which means I recommend we shower, then take any dirty clothes we have to the laundromat close by."

"This isn't your first rodeo then?"

"Not by a long shot. I'll go first, ensuring you'll have privacy later."

I grabbed my towel, something noticeably missing from her "luggage", also something I plan on addressing later, and head for the shower with my soap and shampoo in hand.

The "shower" was a drain in the floor, a poorly pressured spout, and a thin plastic shower curtain in the corner of what at one time must have been a pre-war locker room. The water was lukewarm at best but better than I'd had for the past two days, which was sponge baths in subway restrooms. Even though the water temperature was crummy, I had never been in such a good mood and was positive it was from meeting Harper. There's nothing more thrilling than meeting someone new for the first time, especially if that someone new was freaking gorgeous as hell.

I stepped from the shower feeling better than I had in a very long time and toweled off. Shit, I thought as I looked down at myself, I forgot my clothes. I wrapped my towel around my lower half and trudged along the hall back to Charlie's studio, already turning beet red at what I was about to do.

As I near the studio though, I can hear loud music trembling through the air and one miss Harper Bailey singing at the top of her lungs. I edged toward the slightly ajar door and quietly pushed it open, hoping to grab my bag next to the wall nearest me and holding my breath that she'd be too distracted to notice me but when I catch a glimpse of her, I become engrossed.

Forgetting my towel and my bag, I leaned against the door jamb just watching her dancing around, singing Aerosmith's 'Dream On'. I couldn't believe how remarkably entertaining it was to see her shuffling over the floor like she was, her hair falling over her shoulders and in her face. I can tell it was probably the most free she had felt in quite awhile making her face flushed and excited and her body swaying to each beat. I wondered if the words meant anything in particular to her and suddenly didn't know if I was intruding. If this was some sort of therapeutic ritual for her, I'd feel like an ass if she knew I was watching. I leaned forward and grabbed my bag just as she turned and saw me standing there.

"Agh!" She squealed, turning down the music. Her face a deep red. "How long have you been standing there?" She asked, her chest heaving from the effort of her song. Her eyes followed the lines of my body until they stop at the towel. "Why aren't you dressed?"

"Uh, I didn't mean to intrude," I said, the heat of a blush creeping up my neck. "I forgot my bag with my stuff and came back for it and, um, I accidentally saw you and..."

She looked like she was about to cry, her hands flew to her mouth and I reached for her, "I'm so sorry, Harper. I didn't think. I'm sorry."

But she burst out laughing, the tears streaming down her face her obvious attempt at holding it in and not from humiliation. I breathed a sigh of relief and my smile began to match hers. She sucked in air harshly and started laughing harder.

"Oh my Lord, Callum. This is so embarrassing!"

"You're embarrassed! Look at me! I'm in a towel, dripping water all over the effing floor."

She snorted, making her laugh even harder. My laughter harmonized with hers, tears streaming down both our faces now.

Harper sobered suddenly and we stared at each other for at least a minute. I made a cautious step toward her, my face inching toward hers. She laid a hand on my damp shoulder but instead of meeting my kiss, her eyes brightened and she turned her head in embarrassment.

"You have to get dressed, Callum."

"I'm so sorry, I forgot," I said, as I grabbed my bag and headed for the common room one more time. When I returned, dressed and slightly flustered, I found Harper playing an acoustic guitar in one of Charlie's recliners.

"Wow. You can play guitar too?" I asked.

"Nah, I just dabble."

"I noticed you didn't have a towel and although mine's a bit wet, I wouldn't care if you used it, if you want."

She set the guitar aside and stood, smoothing her wrinkled jeans down her legs and stood before me.

"Thanks," she whispered, grabbing her bag and throwing the towel over her shoulders.

She returned a few minutes later, her coppery hair wet and hanging at the middle of her back, already starting to dry in soft waves. Her eyes were brightened by the shower and her lips were plump and red. What I wouldn't give to kiss those lips.

Chapter Two.

Dream On Harper "How long have you been on your own?" I asked Callum, as we walked to the laundromat three blocks down from his friend Charlie's studio.

"Probably three months or so."

"How did you manage to finish school?"

"Well, I'd shower in the locker room. I'm ashamed to say, I was forced to get the free luncheons and I'd take as much food as possible from there for dinner that night as well. I slept pretty much anywhere."

"Keep your grades up, doc?"

That made him smile. "Hell yes I did."

"Wow, Callum, that is simultaneously alarming and extraordinary."

"Nah, I did what I wanted most of the time. It wasn't as bad as I think I'm making it sound."

"You're an awful liar, Tate." I said, using his last name, sending a secret thrill up my arms from the familiarity of it.

"What about you?" He asked.

"Well, I didn't turn eighteen until after I graduated so my foster mom pretty much had no choice but to feed me my senior year."

"I meant your grades but I'm happy to hear you ate, even though it doesn't look like you do," he teased, inspecting my body and heating my cheeks to a bright red.

"I'm gonna' ignore that," I squeaked out. "My grades were decent enough, nothing lower than a B but I didn't really care all that much because my teachers hated me regardless."

That clearly intrigued him. "And why would they hate you?"

"I suppose you could say, I was a troublemaker."

"What kind of trouble could you possibly make, Harper Bailey?" He asked, with a raised brow.

"The kind that changes your opinion of someone, therefore, you'll never find out." I laughed out.

We arrived at the beat up laundromat. Its sign flickered neon green and buzzed throughout the electric summer air. Random insects crashed into the lights and spiraled to their deaths. Callum opened the door for me.

"Don't think for a second that I won't get you tell me what kind of hell you stirred up."

I eyed him carefully, a twist of a smile tickled the corner of my mouth.

He started to unload our clothes into a washer and I couldn't help but notice that he slid mine in with his. My stomach stirred with butterflies. Seriously, Harper? It's not that he feels comfortable with you, he's just trying to save money. I scolded myself for thinking that this stranger was starting to think of me as a friend rather than the acquaintance we'd really end up being. He filled my palm with a few quarters and pointed to the wall machines selling detergent. As I walked away, I couldn't help but revel at the tingle his fingers gave me when he dropped the coins against my palm. I bring back the detergent and placed the leftover quarters back in his hand. His hand lingered on mine then and gave me a flirtatious smile.

"What are you doing?" I asked, fighting a giggle.

"I'm doing our laundry, miss." The way he emphasizes the word our heated my chest and the blaze met my cheeks, betraying me bitterly. He looked way too satisfied with that, so I turned and pretended to examine my surroundings but I could still feel his eyes on my body.

"How about we make a deal," he pipes up.

I paused for a moment, deciding whether or not I should even hear his terms, before answering with an obvious, "What kind of deal?"

"You ask me one question, however embarrassing you'd like it to be, and I'll answer honestly."

"And you?"

"I'll be informed of one trouble making incident for every answer."

"Deal."

"You acquiesced too easily."

"Maybe the reveal is worth it. I've got some ridiculous questions for you."

"Man, I think I'm starting to regret this game already."

He dropped the steel lid to the washer and slid over the top of the churning machine. I slid onto the lid beside him. We were utterly alone, no one even manned the service desk.

"So, Callum, have you ever bought a Creed album?"

"Damn. You're good and yes, unfortunately, in a fifteen year old haze, I apparently bought their first album but everyone bought that album, Harper!"

"Hey, no need to make excuses."

"Very funny, miss. Alright," he rubs his hands together in preparation. "Tell me one."

"Oh alright," I huff. "Alright, in ninth I photocopied my principal's cell phone number and passed it around to all my classmates."

"Oh Lord, Harper. Why?" He asked in disbelief.

Jeez, this is one of the tame things I did. I'm scared to reveal the naughtier ones.

"Well, he suspended me for three days for something that wasn't my fault."

"Harper?"

"I mean, I am a troublemaker but it truly wasn't my fault that time." I sniffed.

"Well, what happened?"