The Melody We Make (Brallie FanFic)

3. You Can't Say That

"We suck at this" Callie smirked

"We suck at what exactly" Brandon responded still in the doorway to the backyard. Callie relaxed her hand over her guitar. 

"Avoiding each other" she answered him. She looked off into the backyard pretending to be looking at something in particular but really just not wanting to meet his eye.

"Look I'm sorry about-- I didn't intend to," Brandon started. Callie smiled,

"Brandon, it's good, really good. People should hear it-- I didn't realize you had finished it," 

"I process emotions through music. I had a lot of processing to do when it came to you," he walked from the doorway and sat a respectful distance from her on the bench. 

"Of course. I guess I just hadn't expected--" Callie paused unsure of how exactly to finish that sentence. Brandon was looking past her to a knot in the wood on the deck just past her. He could focus on this and he could take seldom glances as they spoke, "I hadn't expected it to hit me like that," Brandon chanced a glance,

"Music has a way of hitting you like a freight train" Brandon said now looking back at the knot. 

"I just I spend a lot of energy trying not to remember all of that. That was the last day," Callie now looked ahead at the window.

"The last real kiss," Brandon added absently, Callie laughed,

"It was a good one though. Solid technique," Brandon now laughed. It was nice to break the serious tone for a minute, "Sorry, " she added "That was inappropriate" 

Brandon sat back and pointed to himself "Brother" he said, and she nodded, her eyes still on him,

"Sister," she said in turn pointing to herself. they both released forced smiles and went off to staring at opposite places again. Callie's face changed slightly. 

"I'm hungry" Callie took a breath and looked into the kitchen as if she could see straight through to the pantry. Brandon smirked. 

"I've got this," Brandon got up and walked into the Kitchen. Callie followed putting her guitar away in the living room, and meeting up with Brandon in the kitchen.

She sat on one of the stools as he gathered supplies and set them out on the counter. 

"Brandon, I can just have some cer-" Brandon threw a hand up and looked back at her.

"Callie-- let me do this for you,"  he held her gaze a little longer than he should have, he felt his heart ache in a way it hadn't in a long time.

"Okay," Callie sat drumming her fingers against the table, there were so many things she wanted to say. So many questions she wanted to ask. So many feelings she wanted affirmed. But-- there was Wyatt. And, there was Lou. They were the silent occupants in this room. They were the ones Callie and Brandon had used for months to keep away from each other. Brandon broke the silence first.

"I told you once," he said softly, "that I make killer pancakes," he was mixing the batter and smiling at Callie. 

"I recall," Callie nodded,

"The key," he said now pouring the batter onto the pan, "Is to wait until the bubbles have reached the PERFECT level which, I was taught in my Youth by a very scholarly Pancake maker" he was putting on a show of sorts, he was nervous, he didn't know what to say either. Within eight minutes that seemed to last a lifetime as they sat in silence-- the pancakes were done, He served them to her and reached in the fridge and pulled out strawberries and got peanut butter from the pantry.