Boo woke to the sound of movement in the next room. She looked across the room and the bright blue light of her alarm clock nearly blinded her, causing her eyes to water. It was only 4:50 in the morning, and the sun hadn't even begun to wake up. At this early hour, everyone in the flat was usually still asleep. Except for Stephen. Sometimes he got called out on late night shifts and didn't come back until hours later. Boo could never do that. Sleep was a precious thing to her, and she liked to hold on to it as long as possible.
But whoever was up at this ungodly hour was ripping sleep right from Boo's hand, and she could feel the anger rising up in her. She hit her head back against the pillows and spread her arms out across the bed. Now she was awake. The noise from the other room and the light from the clock weren't letting her drift back to her dreamless sleep.
God, who was it? Stephen, probably. Or was it Callum? If it was Callum she'd have to kill him. But whoever it was, they were making more raucous noise in the kitchen. She could hear the sound of cupboard doors opening and slamming. Boo gathered what little energy she had and climbed from her bed, leaving the pink polka-dotted blankets clumped together.
She might have stumbled on the way to the kitchen had it not been for the light coming from the open door. Boo tried to be as quiet as possible, hoping to catch the thief who had stolen her rest. The light from the kitchen was spilling onto the living room floor, showcasing the leg of the couch and the old, creaky floor. Even though the flat wasn't that old. It just seemed like it was, worn and scuffed by memories. Grabbing a hold of the frame of the door that led to the kitchen, she cautiously peered around the corner.
It was Callum. He still had his flannel pajama bottoms on, but he had paired them with a relatively nice shirt ("relatively nice" for Callum was a faded t-shirt of some band he used to like). Which was odd, because Callum usually slept without a shirt on. Apparently. Boo could feel herself blushing, and was grateful that he couldn't see her. Not that Boo had seen him with his shirt off. Well, it was just the once. Or twice. What could she say? He shouldn't leave his door open.
Callum grabbed a box of cereal from the pantry and left the door open, letting it lean back and hit the other cupboard doors with a bang. He frantically poured the flakes into a bowl, and opened the door to the fridge. Boo watched him close his hands around the milk and raise it to let loose the waterfall of dairy into his bowl. The first few drops had already softened the cereal before Boo could stop him.
"Wait, Callum!"
He jumped back instantly, the milk jug flying out of hands and landing on the tiled floor. Milk shoot up from the lid like a less impressive fireworks display. "Boo! What the hell!?"
Boo stepped further into the kitchen and bent down to pick up the spilled milk. "Oi, don't cry over spilled milk." He rolled his eyes. "No, it's expired." She held the bottle to the light and squinted at the hard-to-read numbers on the side. "Last week, actually. Oops."
Callum sighed. "Great. More for me to worry about. Thanks."
Boo snorted. "What else do you have to worry about?"
Callum lowered his eyes in an overly dramatic way. "Well, besides the fact that I hunt ghosts full time, and so do all my friends, I have a dentist appointment today. And I...I don't like the dentist, so right now is basically a personal hell for me."
Boo's first instinct was to laugh, a loud, gut-busting laugh, because this was Callum she was talking to. The big, broad-shouldered, once-upon-a-time footballer player, who now blew up ghosts in the train tunnels of the London Underground. And he was afraid of the dentist. It was kind of cute.
But she held in her laugh, covered it up with a little cough that didn't fool Callum.
"Oh, I knew you would do this!" He threw up his hands in exasperation.
Boo had started to smile, but covered her mouth with her hand. "Do what?"
He waved his hands, gesturing them towards her poorly concealed smile. "Laugh! You think it's so funny that strong old Callum is afraid of the dentist. Well, it's not very funny. Not to me."
"I'm sorry! It's just...well, you know. What you just said." Boo looked up at him, still smiling a little, but now it was because he looked very, very beautiful when he was angry. That wasn't something that should have been beautiful, but his mouth went down in a little frown, and his forehead became lined with little furrows of fury, etched on his dark skin by a paintbrush of Boo's teasing. Yep, she'd caused that beauty. Sort of.
"You laugh at everything, Boo. Even when it's not funny. Like the other day, when Stephen and I came in soaking wet from the storm, and you said we looked like a pair of lost otters who had waded out of the river, and gotten confused and wandered into a London flat. It wasn't even that funny, but you just rolled there like a dead bug, arms and legs flapping around in hysterics."
Boo laughed at Callum's description of her and at the memory. They had looked like two otters, side by side in the door frame, their hair dripping onto the floor.
Callum had bent over the stove, putting the kettle on, abandoning is cereal. Boo would clean up the milk later, when she was more awake. It was only a little spill, anyway. His muscular, tattooed arms adjusted the setting of the burner, turning the knob to where it needed to be.
"But it was hilarious. To me, anyway. You looked adorable, in your uniform." Boo instantly felt a blush rising from the pit of her stomach up to her face, a jolt of terror that felt like skipping a step on a staircase that climbed and blossomed like a red rose across her cheeks, staining her face with embarrassment and humility.
Callum was still hunched over the stove, and a small, shy but pleased smile grew across his gorgeous face. Boy, he looked good when he smiled, Boo thought. But she kept her mouth shut tightly, fearing that if she opened it even a crack, her thoughts would grow into words without the consent of her brain.
The room went silent for a while, the only sounds being the opening of a cupboard, the whistling of a teapot., the slamming of mugs against the the table, and the grand finale: the quiet sipping. They both sat together at the small table, staring at the puddle of milk pooling on the tiled floor. Stephen would be furious if it was still there when he woke up.
"I think I laugh too much because I'm scared of what would happen if I didn't. I might turn into Stephen." Boo said, and Callum spit into his tea.
"I'm serious, Cal." It was Boo's turn to scold him; her voice wasn't smiling anymore. "You do it, too. Laugh too much. But we have to. I mean, we work with dead people everyday. God, do you ever think about how weird that is? Actual, living dead people. Well, you know what I mean." She paused for a sip of tea, the warmth from the drink propelling her forward. "Our line of work is brutal. If we didn't laugh at the small things, we'd go mad from the weight of the scary, big things."
Callum started at the floor, still focused on the milk, his eyes quiet and serious. "Will you come with me today?"
Outside of the glass doors of the dentist office, Callum paused in hesitation on the pavement. Boo could see him almost shaking, his anxiety and fright as readable as a book. "You'll be fine, Cal. Seriously. I can come in with you, if you want."
A look of horror crossed his face, like a cloud passing over the sun. "No. No, you don't have to do that. I'll be fine. I promise."
It had been raining on the walk to the office, but now it had slowed to a soft sprinkle, the only sound breaking the silence between the two of them. The cars and people were just muted background noise. "Do I look like a lost otter again?" Callum said, the ghost of a smile playing on his lips, weak but still there.
Boo laughed and returned the smile. "Very lost. And very otterish."
And then she kissed him, right on his rain-soaked, nervous lips. And he didn't pull away.