Chapter Three

"What's with that guy always looking at you," Wyatt asked, innocently enough one evening when he was at the Foster's house.

It had been one of the few nights Stef and Lena were both gone from the house, and Wyatt over with Callie. He asked the question from his position on the couch. He sat right next to Callie, with her half perched on his lap, and half leaning on him.

Callie shrugged looking away from Wyatt. Her guitar was laid on the coffee table, where she sat moments before strumming it, and she almost reached for it, now. But Wyatt didn't get that part of her, he didn't get to see it.

Brandon sat brooding on the other side of the room. He read a book. Usually, he would enjoy the solidarity of his room, and the privacy. But not with Wyatt here. No, when Wyatt was here it had to be different. He had to sit right here, and stare at Callie, and make Wyatt feel uncomfortable enough to leave.

But Wyatt knew uncomfortable, so he would not be leaving. In fact he knew uncomfortable well enough, he thought he could get Brandon to leave.

Wyatt kissed the top of Callie's head, which made her turn to look at him. Using his opportunity he kissed her on the lips. Their tongues reaching to mingle, his hands wavering to her back, he pulled her closer to him.

Callie couldn't help it. She liked kissing Wyatt. She'd never admit she liked him, but his lips were nice. One fear dwelled in the back of her mind, did she only like kissing Wyatt because she could feel Brandon's eyes on her the entire time? No that was ridiculous.

Brandon watched them kiss, and tried not to. But he wouldn't give up and leave, he couldn't. He loudly cleared his throat.

Callie pulled back from Wyatt and glanced over at Brandon, an icy glare covering his features.

"Come out with me tonight," Wyatt asked, tracing a hand up and down Callie's arm.

The action itself irritated Callie to no end, not that she would admit that.

"I can't. Stef and Lena could be home any minute," she lied. They weren't coming home tonight, and she knew that, but she didn't want to go out tonight. She wanted to stretch out on the couch and play guitar. She was still struggling a bit.

Wyatt sighed and cast a glance at Brandon, who was looking a little too smug for his tastes.

"Alright, I'll see you tomorrow," he kisses her with is words, as he gets up to show himself out.

"Night Callie," he says from the door of the living room.

Callie and Brandon sat in silence, until they heard the front door close.

Callie reached for her guitar, and silently began strumming some chords. She wasn't worrying about Brandon watching her, maybe she should have been, but he was the one who gifted her the guitar. He deserved this part of her.

Brandon watched silently, before closing his book, and sitting next to Callie on the couch.

"You're a fret and string off on your G," he said, looking at her frozen hands.

Going for broke, he reached around her, and took her left hand in his. Slowly he guided her first finger down one fret and to the second string not first, where she had it. He could ignore the way she felt in his arms, small and fragile, but he couldn't ignore the sharp intake of breath she took, when she was enclosed in his grasp.

This was innocent, Callie thought. And sure anger from last night bubbled under the surface, but she was playing her guitar. Nothing was bad when she held the guitar in her hands. And sure minus the guitar, Brandon's touch would no longer be innocent, but thank god for the guitar, so she could pretend she didn't feel a thing at his touch.

"I think this may cross the foster-sibling line," Callie muttered, strumming lightly on the guitar, not moving out of his grasp though.

It had gone unspoken between them, you didn't talk about the rule that kept them apart, but Callie was tired of the elephant. It was there.

Brandon's forehead landed on C allies shoulder, for a minute. He was thinking, here.

But she wasn't pulling away, he thought. Was she letting him in again? Be cool, don't mess it up. So keeping his cool, he moved his chin to her shoulder, and took her right hand, and strummed some chords with her for a minute.

Callie was on fire. His touch, his arms, and a guitar. There was something beautiful about it all. The closest they had gotten, to be with a guitar thrown under their hands.

AS their short song came to a close, Callie looked up at Brandon. With their faces inches apart, she could taste his breath. She wondered how his hands would feel running over her the same way they did the guitar. Or danced over her the same way he caressed a piano.

Get a grip Callie. You have too much to lose here. But what would just once do? She questioned herself. One interaction would be it. That wouldn't get them kicked out of the house would it? No one but her and Brandon would know. The thoughts she was having didn't seem so wrong if she remembered it would only be once.

Brandon on the other hand, was planning how this could work long-term. When would he and Callie get moments like this again? Not often, but if they could sneak away, without anyone knowing. Who would it hurt? Him. He didn't like secrets. But it was either lose Callie or have secrets he would chose secrets in half a heartbeat.

Callie felt herself leaning up towards his lips, towards the heat radiating off his body. Inches turned to centimeters, and she froze. She refused to make the first move here.

Brandon's hand drew light circles on hers. He tasted her breath, some sort of light cherry and peppermint mixture that he didn't want to forget. He could kiss her. He wanted to.

Then he remembered his promise. He couldn't do this. And he couldn't make her a cheater either. Even if she wanted to be, now. Even though he hated Wyatt with every fiber of his being, he couldn't do it.

"Callie," he whispered softly, and she felt the air on her lips. Heat spread through her body, but she stayed frozen.

He wanted that word, to explain everything to her, but it couldn't. One word didn't do anything, if anything she only drifted closer, closer without touching his lips, if that were possible.

He saw it in her eyes. She wanted temporary. So he pulled away from her scent, from her, and sighed. His forehead went back to her shoulder.

He felt her stiffen instantly. She brushed his hands off hers, and stood instantly.

And she left. No progress made, no comment made, nothing. Behind her Brandon sat confused, and heated. Why couldn't he just have kissed her?

Callie retreated to her room. Where she sat up and thought about it.

Now she was thankful he didn't kiss her. Because she knew, if he had she wouldn't stop. He'd eventually ask for more than she could give, love. And she was thankful he wouldn't get the chance to ask for it.

Brandon sat in the living room, staring at the ceiling. He was glad he hadn't kissed her, if he had no telling where they would have ended up. And they weren't on the same page. She wanted something entirely different with his kiss, than he did.

So for another night they had been getting dangerously close to crossing the line. But they hadn't yet. And now he knew they would have to talk, before they did. And Callie didn't want to talk.

The one rule would not be in danger of being broken, not tonight anymore.