Nervous

“Nervous?” Callie asked. I looked up at her with a smirk.

“You could tell?” I asked. I dropped the chewed nub of a pencil onto the table. My foot kept tapping, though. I concentrated on not tapping them both at once.

“Just a bit,” Callie replied. She sat down across from me and watched in bemusement for a few moments. “Seriously, though, what's eating you so bad?”

“Lessee... exam on Friday. Concert on Saturday. New project handed to me today in Mechanics. Oh, and a girl I contacted on-line actually wrote back to me.” I shrugged and started cracking my knuckles. “No biggy, right?”

“Wait, aren't several of those good things?” Callie asked.

“Yeah, of course. But throw all this together at once and it's just one great, big anxiety trigger. A lot for my poor, sheltered brain to handle.” My empty coffee cup sat off to the side, taunting me. I knew it was the last thing I needed.

“Do I need to take you home and get you drunk?” I couldn't tell if Callie was serious. She probably was.

“Drunk might be overkill,” I replied. “But a shot or two would not be turned down.”

“Good,” Callie replied as she stood and grabbed her coat. “Because your foot is driving me nuts.”