Home Again,





With You





SOPHIE ROSE





Sophie Rose

Home Again, With You



Copyright © Sophie Rose, 2025

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or places is purely coincidental.

Cover designed by Sophie Rose

First edition, Tržič, 2025

Published by Beno Stare s.p., Zvirče 72, 4290 Tržič, Slovenia

Kataložni zapis o publikaciji (CIP) pripravili v Narodni in univerzitetni knjižnici v Ljubljani

COBISS.SI -ID 231506179

ISBN: 978-961-96973-0-6 (ePUB)





To the person who always feels like home

I love you, B





Chapter One


Noah


I looked at my timepiece ticking away, seconds before midnight and I was still stuck at the torture chamber I called my office. This was the fifth time I stayed up late this month and it was only the 3rd of April. Or was it? I was losing track of time faster than my sanity, although that was nearly entirely gone too.

“We need a break,” Evan groaned next to me. I was certain his silence meant that sleep finally liberated him from this insanely convoluted tax report for one of our new clients. But alas, I was mistaken. “And a raise,” he added.

“Yup,” I agreed noncommittally. We have been talking about taking a break every time we had one of those insanely long weeks that seemed to stretch across months but never did anything about it. I doubted this was going to be any different. He was just an overworked corporate banker, complaining about his job as we were all known to do.

“I’m serious.” Evan got up with new-found energy. “We need a fucking vacation.” He slapped himself a few times in an effort to get fully awake and started pacing our joined office not to collapse.

“Dude, we’re in the busiest season right now! Did you think we’ve been buried under these papers just because?”

“I’m not an idiot, Noah!” He riposted, now standing almost upright, although barely able to form sentences. It seemed that he could either stand straight or speak straight. “I meant after the tax season, man… Let’s go somewhere together. I don’t even care where as long as I get to sit on my ass all day doing nothing.”

I had to admit that the offer was looking pretty tempting. Much more so than the numbers dancing around the black void I saw every time I closed my eyes. I had a perpetual 90s Windows screensaver playing in my head. But instead of technicolor pipes twisting around in every which way, it was figures devoid of context.

Taking vacation in May wasn’t very common around the office, so I figured that getting time off would not be that hard. And it meant I could work through the whole summer. That was bound to get me some points with Craig.

“That does sound pretty nice… Let’s talk about it when this is done though.”

Dreaming of warm beaches and being horizontal was nice, but I needed to get back on track, so I would get to spend at least some of tonight in my own impeccably comfortable bed. The Chesterfield sofa Evan was slowly swaying towards on weak, sleep-bound legs looked plush and luscious, yet was anything but. And I couldn’t risk wrecking my back further on that monstrosity Craig dared to call furniture. Evan had lower standards for comfort or simply higher tolerance for leather-inflicted pain, which would make sense. Or maybe he was just too tired to care anymore. I was getting there, but I stayed another hour crunching the numbers like my favorite childhood cereal.

Around 1:30 a.m. I wiggled Evan slightly to drag him in his three-quarters-asleep state to my car and his place consecutively. I made it home after 2 and had nothing left in me but to slide under the comforter and let sleep take me from this reality, the reality of a quiet, empty and cold apartment I was only looking forward to coming to due to the mattress my body was blissfully sinking into.

***

The next two days were spent in meetings and ended in a similarly bone-deep exhaustion. But then, the weekend was about to start. And for me that meant that sitting in my Excel sheets was not mandatory but voluntary. Although it never quite felt that way with Craig’s insanely high standards for productivity and regular emails I would get any time of the day, any day of the week.

“I’m not staying till midnight again today,” Evan exclaimed after getting another email with a new and of course urgent task at 8 p.m. We shouldn’t have been at the office at this hour anyway. “Not on Friday,” he added and ostentatiously closed his laptop and unplugged it from the charger. I almost expected him to toss it out the twelfth story window, but he just shoved it into his carrying case and looked at me pointedly.

“Yes, Evan?” I pretended not to know the question behind that look, those blue puppy eyes I was so used to seeing every Friday evening like clockwork sporting the same expression.

“You’re coming? You missed the past three weeks.” He sounded a little bitter and I was wondering if it was really my absence or his lack of success that had him feeling this way.

“Give me a minute,” I obliged, closed my tabs and packed my laptop too, though with much less flair.

***

Whenever Evan ended up single he would pull all the stops to get me to go out with him. I loved the guy, so most of the time he got his way and I found myself at the hottest, most exclusive and apparently most mind-straining clubs. The music itself made me feel like I was losing brain cells and it didn’t help that alcohol was part of the equation almost every time.

But by this point in our friendship we had a system. We would go in together, sip our first drinks slowly as Evan scanned the perimeter and after that we would usually separate for a bit. I would nurture the last drops of my beer or whiskey, sometimes order another, and wait for Evan to give me the go-ahead to leave him be. That usually meant he found someone he wanted to “talk to” and I was free to go home and sleep off the music blasting through my skull, permanently damaging my eardrums. I couldn’t remember the last time I went to a club and left with the guy, but I didn’t particularly mind it.

This hadn’t always been the case. Not being a part of Evan’s conquest strategies was something we had to work through. Girls seemed to always travel in packs, which used to make Evan involve me in whatever shenanigans he had employed to get their numbers. But I was happily left to my own devices and the wingman act had never worked that well for us anyway. Evan had enough success on his own and I had enough of Evan -on-the-prowl by the time I was done with half of my beverage. Despite being single and berated by my best friend to change that fact, I wasn’t a fan of these places. I never met anyone I liked at a club. And after my last relationship crashed and burned, I didn’t want to string anyone along either, so singledom was it for me.

This time, Evan noticed an all-legs blonde in five-inch heels making eyes at him from across the stuffy establishment. I was freed even earlier than usual with a scream into my ear.

“You see, you ARE my lucky charm, man!”

Evan jolted nonchalantly, if that was even a possible combination, toward the woman and I abandoned my half-drank whiskey heading the opposite way.

Every time I got even a drop of alcohol in me, I would get nostalgic. Maybe that was why it wasn’t a common occurrence. The whirlpool of everyday life didn’t exactly encourage sentimentality and my vision was set on getting up the ladder far more than looking back. It wasn’t even possible to do both, so these moments of casting my mind to my hometown, my childhood, my parents, my friends were few and far between. The occasional tipsy Friday night was enough emotionality I allowed myself and went back to reality as soon as I woke up the next day with a clear head. I saw it as more of a distraction, maybe especially because of how far my life has come since then. But that was what I wanted. That was what I worked so hard for. So, why did I miss home so much then? Was alcohol bringing out my true feelings or muddying the clarity of my thinking that I needed for the day to day life?

Despite having had barely a few sips of whiskey, my head was spinning with these questions. I wanted to steady it the only way I knew how, so I decided to call my parents. I quickly abandoned the inane decision though, since it was past their bedtime and opted for a quick text instead.

“Miss you! Let’s talk tomorrow.”

I was happy that I didn’t sound as desperate to hear their kind voices and feel the sense of home only they could give me as I felt and I sent the message knowing my mom wouldn’t see it until the morning.

***

The next day I was indeed greeted by a reply from my mom, who had the audacity to be up at 6:30 on a Saturday, telling me to call whenever I was ready. I rang her back around 11, when I felt closer to a fully-fledged human after some caffeine and a shower.

“Noah, darling!” She greeted me cheerfully as always.

“Hi, mom. How’s it going?” I was happy to hear her voice. It always brought inexplicable peace to my mind and after the week I’d had I was ready for it to envelop me fully.

“All good on our side here. Your father bought another book on barbeque and he’s getting ready for the season. There’s still too much rain for all that now. But it’s wonderful for my roses! How are you, darling?” She moved on quickly, though I knew she could have gone on and on about her beloved garden and her beloved husband’s hobby.

“Tired. But what’s new.” I hated how I had nothing to share whenever we talked. I was either at work or tired from it. There was nothing else going on in my life and talking to her reminded me of that. I had no smoked meats or pretty flowers to look forward to. I was just stuck here.

“Oh, honey. I’m so sorry to hear that. I thought the work would ease up a little as you progress.”

“It’s harder because I’m progressing,” I explained. It made sense, right? Working hard to get that one little step up the ladder closer to… Well, retirement.

“You need a break, darling. I can hear it in your voice. You sound spent.”

I was spent. I was looking at the prospect of jumping into work right after I hung up and doing pointless calculations throught the whole weekend.

“I am actually considering one. Once the tax season is over Evan and I will probably take some time off. A week or two.”

“That’s great!” she sounded genuinely excited for me. Probably even more than I was at this point. Presently, I didn’t even have the energy to be excited. “Where were you thinking? I could recommend you a few places, if you’d like, honey.”

“Thanks, mom. That would be great!” I was genuinely grateful for the suggestion, partially because of her enthusiasm and partially because researching a vacation destination couldn’t be easily slid into my already full schedule. I’d take any shortcut I could get. “We actually haven’t figured anything out yet. We were thinking somewhere a little warm probably, somewhere quiet…”

“Oh my goodness, I have the perfect place!” Her elation was palpable through the line. “Granted, I haven’t actually visited it, but I have heard wonderful things. So, it’s this cute little town by the beach in California. It’s called Oceanside and apparently it’s very quaint and has nice food and a relaxed vibe. That’s what the websites said: ‘vibe’. And I have been so curious about it! But you know your father, he’s fine with just our usual vacation spots. I mean, how many times can you go to Maine? I’m getting tired of these lobster rolls…”

“You love lobster rolls!” I argued.

“You’re right, I do. But we’ve been retiring slowly over the years. I think it’s time to start looking for more places to see while we still can.”

“Don’t even say that, mom.”

“Well, it’s gonna happen one way or another. And I feel like I’m ready to live a little. See the world.” She paused for a second. “You can visit Oceanside and tell me if it’s worth it. And if you enjoy your trip, I’ll have some ammo against your dad.”

“Haha, okay. It does sound cool, I’ll look it up for sure. Thanks, mom.” I eased her mind a touch. We talked a little more, but the tax forms and spreadsheets were hurrying me so it wasn’t long.

After I hung up, I was ready to dive into my work, but I wanted to close the whole vacation topic completely. I had a feeling it would be nagging me and taking away from these reports which required singular focus. So, after a cursory Google search I decided to pitch it to Evan on Monday. The place really did seem quaint. It was easy to imagine myself at those beaches and restaurants. And lord knows, I needed a “relaxed vibe”. I wasn’t sure if it was because I was just about ready to go on holiday anywhere, but I figured Oceanside was as good a place as any to escape what was weighing heavily on my mind.





Chapter Two


Charlie


“I can’t believe I’m not coming with you. I feel so stupid and I’m so, so sorry,” Lola apologized for the twentieth time as she helped me stuff my carry-on at the last minute. I had to be at the airport in forty-five minutes and it was half an hour away. It was very unlike me to pack this late, but for the past week I wasn’t convinced I should even go and the decision came down to the wire and only with “not taking no for an answer” attitude from Lola.

“This is more important,” I reassured her, hoping that the more times I said it, the more I would believe it too.

In truth, my ego was hurting, even though I was the one who urged Lola to take on this last minute wedding. She was still building her portfolio and we weren’t exactly the one percenters yet. With my job as a swimming coach and Lola running around snapping pictures at family functions as a budding freelancer, we weren’t heading there any time soon either. At least she was trying to diversify her income and I felt obligated to support her. As for me? I just wanted a vacation, a break, a breather from the day to day.

“It’s not more important, love. It just pays. Twice the usual rates.” She pulled my body into her arms and squeezed me tight. “Maybe this is for the best.”

“Going on vacation without you has no potential of being ‘for the best’ in any sense of the phrase.” I slapped her off me playfully, still pouting a little and ran to the bathroom to swipe all of the minis I had hoarded for exactly this purpose.

My apartment was miniscule enough that the four step distance between the bedroom and the ensuite didn’t inhibit our conversation in the slightest. The place was one of those remodeled townhouse apartments that was stripped of all of its warmth and distinct features. When I moved in it looked like an empty, frigid, white and gray box. I did my best to warm up the place, but with the strict “no holes in the walls” and “absolutely no painting” policies, I didn’t have that much to work with. The only time this place actually felt like home was when Lola visited me. Warmth exuded from her small frame like a million-mega-giga-terawatt lightbulb. That was why going on this trip without her felt like such a foreign concept.

“Maybe you’ll meet someone new. That has to be better than being dragged around by the same old best friend,” she joked. I only scoffed in response, still feeling more sad than excited about Oceanside as time went on. “And you can use this as your Into the wild !”

“Didn’t he freeze to death?” I asked.

“No, I think he starved… But hey, you’re in danger of neither! You’re going to a California beach town and I made like a million reservations to all kinds of places.”

“Dining for one? I don’t think so.”

“Oh, come on. Don’t tell me you’re planning on moping the whole time you’re there. Dining alone is the ultimate power move. I do it all the time. Not to mention the fact that half the time we go somewhere together, you end up reaching for your Kindle as I chat up the servers anyway.”

“Ouch,” I half-joked.

“You know what I mean… You can still have fun! Promise me you’ll try, Char?”

“Promise. But I reserve the right to whine about everything.”

“Always. Now, let’s get you to the car or you’re gonna be late.”

***

On the way to the airport in her little Volkswagen Beetle, I was trying to drink up Lola’s fun-loving, adventurous, brave energy. She would have no reservations about going on a solo trip. For me, this was a first and probably last. And frankly, I wasn’t looking forward to it even now, speeding towards the airport. The only thing stopping me from cancelling it altogether was the non-refundable flight and AirBnb stay. Losing a 10-day’s worth of vacation money wasn’t in my best interest.

On top of that, I really felt like I needed a break. That’s why we had booked this trip in the first place. My routine of going to work, cooking, reading, knitting or crocheting and all of the adventures with Lola made my life full but not exactly fulfilling . It always felt like something was missing, a deep itch I couldn’t get to for lack of emotional dexterity. As we said goodbye with a tight hug and I ran towards the gate, (perks of being late for the first time in my life), I did my best to push out everything that was weighing on me.

I walked onto the relatively full plane, trying to find my seat. I was one of the last ones there. I believe only an elderly couple and a small family were behind me and I could hear the doors closing with a heavy thud, reminding me I was stuck in my decision now. No going back.

I squeezed my way through the alley, dragging my carry-on and trying desperately not to hit people on my way deeper into this stupid plane, flying to stupid San Diego, taking me on a stupid solo trip. Finally, I sat in my window seat, sliding past a sister duo in matching airport attire and friendship bracelets reminiscent of the Taylor Swift fandom. They were so cute. Ugh. That stung even more and made me think about all of my relationships or lack thereof even more.

It brought up all the awful things I didn’t want brought up. Like the fact that my best friend couldn’t come with me on this trip, the fact that I had no one else close enough to even ask to go in her place, the fact that the closest people to me other that Lola were my coworkers and I’d never seen them outside of the college campus, and the fact that those coworkers were still higher on my list to ask than my own sister or mother…

All of that, being actively NOT thought about. By which I, of course, mean that those were the only things I was able to think about, but there was a heavy dose of “stop thinking about it” slid between all of the different depressing facts about my life playing out behind my eyelids like a sad in-flight movie.

Last time I spoke to my sister I tried to lie to her that I was busy, just so I could avoid a long lecture about something entirely inconsequential but didn’t succeed. I sat on the phone for half an hour in silence waiting for her righteousness to pass or for a natural stop, so I could hang up. Let’s just say I wasn’t very lucky there.

And the last time I talked to my mom was a few weeks ago when she suggested I visit her at the same time as I planned this trip for. At least I had an excuse that didn’t make me feel as guilty. Still guilty, still awful. But not at a full guilty-and-awful capacity.

The rest of the flight went to involuntarily over analyzing every interaction with either of them I could remember. And I couldn’t remember much. I was hard-pressed to figure out the last time we actually spoke about something real, something other than the usual “how are yous” and “how is works .” Which was sad in and of itself.

I mentally tired myself out by the time we reached our destination, so I just let everyone pass me by, including the giggling sisters I was jealous of, before I stood up to grab my carry-on and headed out as one of the last people inside.

I dragged my feet to the Uber I splurged for to get me from the San Diego airport to my accommodation in Oceanside. Alex, a college-aged kid who was my driver, was unfortunately a chatty guy.

“You’re traveling for business or pleasure, madam?” The honorific made me feel ancient. I was barely seven or eight years older than him. That wasn’t that much, was it?

“Just Charlie is okay. And I guess neither.” He hummed in confusion. “I’m just trying to make the most out of some non-refundables.”

“Oh, I see. Traveling solo?”

“No!” The self-preservation instinct kicked in while tears pushed their way toward my tear ducts. I swallowed them just in time. “I’m meeting friends in Oceanside.”

According to Lola, it was a possibility so the lie wasn’t that monumental. Well, according to Lola, I was about to meet the love of my life, so her judgement might have been erroneous, but Alex here didn’t need to know that.

“How long are you staying?” I knew he was just making conversation, but every question reminded me that I was stuck on a vacation I didn’t want to go on. Alone. With no way to go home any earlier than in ten long, already-paid-for days. Unless I wanted to splurge again for the comfort of being sad in my own apartment rather than a sunny beach. Who knows which would be worse?

“I’m sorry, Alex. I am just exhausted.” I lied. I wasn’t even a little bit tired. I was fucking sad. “I think I’ll make the most of the drive and catch some Z’s, if you don’t mind.”

His expression and a quick “Of course!” in a perfect customer service voice was enough to make me feel like a bitch for not making small talk, answering his questions, telling this kid my whole life story like he was entitled to it. I immediately started spiraling about it, but at the same time felt way too awkward to go back into having a conversation, so I pretended to sleep for the rest of the drive while mentally pelting myself for being a socially inept loser on a lonely and pathetic vacation.

***

I made it to my AirBnb around 4 p.m. I had no energy or desire to see anything nearby other than the closest grocery store, which I decided to walk to for fear of meeting another Alex who would make me confront my reality by asking why I was on vacation by my lonesome.

After buying a bag full of products one might consider more snacks than meal, I shuffled to my temporary home and plopped on the couch face down. It was surprisingly comfortable, which made me irrationally angry. At present, I didn’t want to enjoy any part of this experience and the plush sofa was a comfort I wasn’t okay with. It was like it had no idea I was wallowing in my sadness.

I debated calling Lola but didn’t want to bring her down too or make her feel guilty for taking a job we both knew she needed. So I went for a text instead.

“Made it to the AirBnb. It’s nicer than in the pictures. And the owners are okay too.” That was as much enthusiasm as I was able to muster. I muttered a quick non-denominational prayer that she wouldn’t see through me.

“I’m so glad you’re having a good time!” I didn’t want to correct her.

“How are things on your end?” I wrote instead.

“I’m prepping. They have a looong list of shots they want me to capture. I don’t know who they thought they hired, but I AM BRICKING IT.”

“You’ll do great! And you still have a few days,” I tried, in encouragement.

“You’re right. I will do great! And I do have a few more days!” Lola was easily convinced like that. It probably helped that we’ve been each other’s biggest cheerleaders for years, so we had practice in lifting each other’s spirits. No matter the life circumstances, we had each other. “Promise me, you’ll give this trip a chance,” she added after a minute, probably knowing exactly how excruciating this felt for me even without being privy to my mental self-punishment of reminiscing on my family life on the plane.

“I told you I would!” And I planned on it. But not today. Today my agenda was full. I was going to be wallowing until the sun came up or until my belly was too full of junk to think of anything else. Whichever came first.





Chapter Three


Noah


“I fucking needed this,” I said almost to myself, taking in the expanse of the ocean. I couldn’t believe its grandeur balanced by the gentleness of the waves. I could stare at the water for hours and that’s exactly what I planned on doing. I took a second to breathe the salt air and the spectacular view in, since Evan and his “flavor of the month” Becky were falling behind.

“Are you guys coming or what?” I shouted at the couple lugging seemingly everything they could think of needing behind them. Well, Evan was the lugging one. Becky’s job was to look “pretty” and not twist her wedged-sandal-strap adorned ankles.

It’s not that I didn’t like Becky. It’s just that I knew Evan a bit too well to get attached. She was the long-legged blonde he met at the club a few weeks ago. Her time was close to running out actually, judging by Evan’s dating history thus far.

“It’s not my fault you’re an overachiever. We’re on vacation, dude. Nobody is handing out medals for being the first one on the beach,” Evan said, catching up to me and resting his arm on my shoulders in a brotherly way. But I knew it was really because he needed a breather from the heavy lifting he wasn’t used to.

He was yet to discover the healing powers of an extended gym session. Turns out corporate banking was not for the faint of heart and seeing as I shared an office with the guy and was privy to his passing out from exhaustion at his desk or trying to pull out his closely trimmed blond hair after a particularly long negotiation, I knew first-hand that we were both regularly in desperate need of a de-stressing activity.

I sweated it out in the gym and Evan… Well, Evan had a slightly different approach to the issue. He would still call it “cardio”, but it was more of the… horizontal variety. With someone new almost every month, like clockwork. Whoever said that chasing girls was not a sport, should see how “in shape” Evan was. He could probably qualify for the Olympics if they added that as a discipline.

It helped that he had that boyish charm, golden locks, stupidly intense blue eyes girls seemed to adore and a brand-new Lamborghini that was, frankly, bringing more attention from men (which he would regularly staunchly deny) but was still an attention-grabber.

“The girls are chasing themselves, my friend,” he would say whenever he dragged me to some loud and dark club with neon lights downtown in his yellow Huracán. I hated to admit that sometimes it was true.

“Clearly, we’re not first,” I said, gesturing vaguely at the half-naked bodies surrounding us from each side of the pretty full beach. At least full to me, an Oregonian visiting an Oceanside beach on a random May Wednesday, at 1 p.m. Which I could admit was very much off-season.

Avoiding the rush of high school kids was just a bonus of taking my vacation in May. My main motivation was scoring some points with the bosses by working through the other managers’ absences. And right after tax season, the bank was the quietest. So I grabbed my best friend and his “girlfriend” and headed south.

I was counting on this beach stay shaking off any residual tiredness from deep within my bones and replacing it with enough energy to last me until the VP of Corporate Banking was announced some time this year. When? No one knew and that was why every manager worth his oats worked approximately three times as hard and twice as long. And only twice because we would regularly put in twelve-hour days and there was simply not enough left in the day to triple the quota.

“Okay, grandpa. We slept in. Sue us! But didn’t we have a good time last night though?” Evan asked, leaning into his current other half, raising his eyebrows repeatedly. I refused to answer because sitting next to my best friend necking a girl he won’t even remember in a month was not my idea of a relaxing holiday. And lord knows, I needed a relaxing holiday after this fucking tax season that seemed to go on for years.

“Evan, babyyy …” Becky moaned, waving a tanning oil at her boyfriend with urgency once we all settled down on our respective towels set a reasonable distance apart. He immediately ran up to her, dropping whatever else he was doing to cover her lingerie-model body. If I knew my friend, the oiling would soon turn into something I didn’t want to be a witness to. Again.

So I headed for the water, dropping my linen button down as quickly as possible on the way, tossing it behind me on my towel laid in the sun next to a book I stupidly picked up at the airport, knowing full well I wouldn’t be reading it. Although it was something I started to reconsider once our chill nights with Evan and Becky turned into her climbing onto his lap and sucking on his earlobes. I’d rather read the worst book in history than watch that. Or listen to it. Sadly, the Airbnb Evan insisted on renting, instead of a nice hotel, had fairly thin walls and Rebecca was a passionate lover. So it seemed. Running away has been my safest strategy thus far and I wasn’t willing to risk it.

I essentially sprinted into the waves head first and reveled in the sweet relief of the cool water washing over my already sunkissed body. We were on day three of our vacation with only ten of them left, but I did manage to get some sun almost immediately. My skin just absorbed the rays if you even whispered the words “75 and sunny”.

Day 3 of vacation, 0 days since I was a witness to inappropriate public displays of affection. I started counting them up like you would since accidents at a factory. And with numbers like this, any health and safety inspector would close us down immediately. I think this was the first time in my life I wished for a health and safety inspector to randomly materialize next to me.

This vacation was getting sourer by the day. I tried to focus on why I came here in the first place and how little time I’ve been getting for myself lately but discovered that I didn’t know what to do with the little time I had anyway. Like I said, books weren’t pulling me in, especially because my method of selection was a blind trust in airport bookstores cashing in on my desperation. I could run, swim or lift, but that still only took some of my time. Despite being here with my best friend of five years, I felt lonely. Lonely and bored.

After a big breath in, I went under the surface of the water, ready to escape the noises of guys in their twenties playing volleyball a little too hard, and children screaming and waving seashells at their equally loud parents warning them to not veer off too far from their beach umbrellas. The second I was underwater I felt the silence envelop me and provide the respite from my life I flew here for. All of the documents, spreadsheets, and reports that still plagued my mind mere moments before just faded away. All of a sudden, I wasn’t a Corporate Banking Manager at Cedrinum Financial Services. I wasn’t an overwhelmed and overeager workaholic. I wasn’t fighting to get to the top, to follow in my father’s footsteps. I was just a guy on a hard earned vacation, enjoying the soothing feel of the ocean on his skin. It was probably the first time in a while that I felt true peace. However, with my luck that wasn’t going to last, so I wasn’t even remotely surprised when upon re-entering reality I got hit straight in the face by…

“What is this exactly?” I thought to myself as I pulled the wet and clingy piece of fabric off my face and it started to take shape.

It was white with a delicate blue pattern, which I could liken to the old china my family had in the living room cabinet with napkins to boot. We had rarely used them, but I vividly remembered the display behind the glass. A whole set of fragile teacups with matching saucers, dessert plates and ice cream bowls had been meticulously placed there and pulled out only for really really special occasions.

When I extended my hand to see the entirety of the object assaulting me, I saw that it was very clearly an unaccompanied bikini top. I was not entirely sure if I should be looking around for the matching bottoms or the owner of this admittedly cute swimsuit, but I started to look around nonetheless.

“Oh my god! I’m so sorry!” a melodic yet slightly gravelly female voice from a few feet behind me exclaimed. “I’m so sorry, so sorry!”

“Oh…” I followed the siren call with my eyes and saw a frazzled redhead girl with her arm strategically covering her quite full bosom.

Her blue eyes reflected the sun bouncing its light in the ocean and they positively sparkled even with the evident concern I could see in them. She looked like she was a happy person. Her eyes had those permanent smile lines despite clearly being in her late twenties. Her full cheeks were red and sunkissed and sprinkled with the most chaotic collection of freckles I’ve ever seen in my life. They were peppered not only around her soft cheekbones and slim nose but across her eyelids, full lips, and even ears. Not to mention her decolletage and the slim arm covering her… covering her.

I seemed to have lost my tongue somewhere in my mouth and I was partially happy for that because if I hadn’t it might have been hanging out of my face making me look like a thirsty dog, which was not something I was proud of admitting. She was stunning and I was glad that wasn’t how she first saw me. But then, I started to realize that I hadn’t said anything yet and I was probably still staring at her gorgeous self.

“That would be mine, I believe,” she said softer now that she was closer to me. I couldn’t peel my eyes off hers feeling a weird sense of connection with her. An unexplainable familiarity that pulled on my tired muscles, willing me to come closer.

I was trying to put together the constellations on her cheeks into a full picture of a person I felt like I’ve seen before, but they were still just jumbled-up puzzle pieces. She had an air of carefreeness and fun I could imagine earning her similar stares from every man she encountered and I hated to be a cliché. The uneasiness at the sudden bizarre feelings coming over me settled somewhere in my stomach and warmed me from inside. Despite the unanswered question of this sense of knowing her, it gave me more comfort than concern.

I’ve never felt this pull before and I was quick to explain it away as a head rush from the temperature outside or the shock of the cool water on my warm shoulders. But it didn’t help to minimize the nagging that I might know her somehow. I realized how absolutely insane I started to sound in my own head and decided to swiftly move on.

“Looks like it,” I finally blurted out, feeling stupid for myself and extending my hand with a cheesy grin I couldn’t hold back. I prayed for her to return it and I was blessed.

“Would you be so kind…?” she asked shyly, turning around to indicate her back, asking to tie up her strings. “I’m so sorry to ask, it’s just that I don’t have anyone here to help me out with this and I’d rather not flash the entire beach. It’s enough that you had to see me in this state.” She sounded a bit sad but giggled nervously and it reminded me of a laugh I used to hear sometimes as a teenager from a family friend.

It brought me right back to my childhood home and the lazy summer afternoons spent in my friend’s company. The tone of this girl’s voice sounded deeper and more mature, but it was enough to overwhelm me with nostalgia anyway. The waves humming around us muffled the sounds of the beach and it felt like we were in a bubble sharing this secret. This secret I wasn’t even sure she was in on. I reached toward her slowly, making sure my touch was minimal and gentle so as not to scare her. She really trusted me here and I would be a fool to waste it by giving in to the urge to run my palm down her freckled back.

“You know, you shouldn’t be going around telling strangers you’re vacationing alone,” I said lightly and began working on the mess of strands coming off the bikini top, seemingly multiplying every time I felt like I could see which way was up. I tied two of them together and handed it back to her so she could pull it over her head and place the cups where they needed to be.

I looked away, giving her the small bit of privacy I had to offer. She hummed to indicate she was done and kept her palms planted firmly on her breasts with the strings falling down her sides. I grabbed each with surgeon-like precision and began to tie them up for her.

“Uhm… I’m totally not vacationing alone,” she hesitated and I thought I could hear the pain in her voice a little bit, but it was quickly replaced by a playful tone. “My massive wrestler boyfriend… Bruce and his English mastiff… Bruce Junior are waiting for me super close and they’re both ready to pounce if you try anything…” the question hanging in the air.

“Noah,” I provided.

“Noah. Yeah. So don’t try anything, Noah.” I could basically hear the smile on her lips, even though I couldn’t see her face.

“And you are?” I asked back, hoping any nugget of information she was willing to give me would answer these nagging questions of why she seemed so familiar. Maybe we really did meet before, but I wasn’t going to straight up ask that because she would surely think I was just trying to flirt with her and blow me off. She was so clear about me not “trying anything” that even an inquiry into who she was might come off as too strong. I kept my distance.

“Very grateful for your help, Noah,” she said and swam away faster than I could think of a response or a way to keep her talking. Or tell her how very obvious her boyfriend-lie was.

“Bye, then,” I muttered to myself, already expecting what I just witnessed to be committed to my memory for a while. I followed her back to the beach with my eyes and decided it was best that I let it go and just enjoy the mystery of a siren asking a sailor for aid and not devouring him afterwards.





Chapter Four


Charlie


“Of course you did!” Lola cackled so loud I had to pull the phone away from my face.

“I didn’t mean to flash anyone!” I replied, trying to preserve the last shred of dignity in my friend’s eyes.

“Char, I wouldn’t blame ya if you did,” she said matter of factly and I knew she absolutely meant it. “It’s been a while.”

I couldn’t believe my luck. After getting locked out of the Airbnb and waiting around for hours for the owner to show up and let me in despite the rental being in their backyard, going to the beach later than I expected, forgetting my favorite Speedo one-piece at home in Cedar Valley in the frenzy of last-minute packing, and having to buy this tiny frilly (and overpriced!) French toile bikini and promptly losing half of it in the ocean on top of a person’s face, I was just about done.

Yeah, I was having a pretty rough day, even though I tried my best to enjoy this vacation, after all. I didn’t even get to swim the sea cables I was here for. I was hoping a few hours of training would help me clear my head, but alas… After the complete embarrassment I made of myself and telling, for all intents and purposes, the first guy I met that I’m here alone and essentially that he’s welcome to kidnap and murder me, I was ready to pack up my stuff and leave. Not just the beach but Oceanside in general.

I was already half-way there yesterday when I arrived and this just confirmed it. Who took vacations in May? What a stupid idea this was to even go when Lola couldn’t. But just like all the times before, when I considered leaving I reminded myself that I did have my return ticket bought and the Airbnb was paid for as well. So, cutting my holidays short would be more trouble than it was worth. I thought back to that comfy couch I passed out on yesterday as another argument for staying in California and I immediately wanted to head back to the quaint cottage I rented. But of course, I forgot my towel too, so I needed a minute to dry off. Which was a perfect excuse to call my best friend and start processing these feelings before they turn into deep-seated trauma.

“Was he cute? Give me the play-by-play,” she urged.

“Lola, I’m not here to find a boyfriend. I’m happy being single,” that was somewhat of a lie but still not my focus at the moment.

“You don’t have to order anything, just read the menu, girl.” I couldn’t help but laugh at her metaphors. “Well… out with it!” she added impatiently.

“Yeah, I guess he wasn’t bad-looking.” I was hoping this description would suffice, but knowing Lola I would have to verbally illustrate the precise length and location of every single hair on his wide sculpted chest to satisfy her curiosity. Which was trimmed to perfection, I found myself thinking.

“What does that mean? I need deets!” she pushed.

“What do you want me to say? Caucasian, probably 6ft, maybe 6’1 ’’, strong build, visibly fit.”

“Char, this is not a police report. Can you be a bit more poetic, for crying out loud?”

“Okay, then. Soft caramel brown waves adorned his angular face, thick brows blanketed his equally caramel eyes, his scruff…”

“Okay, I get it,” she interrupted me “So he’s hot?”

“One could say that,” I tried for nonchalance and likely failed, but Lola would never say that to my face. She was one of those people you could trust with your deepest darkest secrets, with the most vulnerable and hurt parts of your soul and she would offer nothing but support.

“Well, go get him, tiger.”

“I’m absolutely not getting anything. I told you, I’m happy with my life as it is!” I laughed into the phone and added “Gotta go though, I’m almost dry and I didn’t bring sunscreen either, so I can’t stay out here too long.”

“Okay, my clients are here actually, so I need to run too. Be safe, my love. I have your location though. Just in case.”

“I will. Love you, Lolz.”

“Love you, Char.”

I couldn’t help but smile every time I talked to this goofball, even now. She really was the best thing that had happened to me.

I was about ready to leave when I was greeted by a deep warm “Excuse me…” I heard it from behind me as I bent down to pick up my backpack, my shorts, and a T-shirt with a “Water you waiting for?” print I got from my mom for Christmas. She loved buying me goofy water or swimming-themed paraphernalia ever since I started my career and this was one of her zingers.

I looked up, realizing that my ass was in someone’s face again and quickly righted myself.

It was him. The guy who helped me in the water. The guy who I blindly trusted because of those kind eyes and that scruffy innocent face. The guy whose most delicate touch gave me goosebumps and left my skin feeling like a pop of a fizzy Coca-Cola can. The guy I felt like I wouldn’t say no to if he asked me out one day, had I not humiliated myself before he’d heard a word out of my mouth.

He really was cute though. Tall and wide-chested with that olive skin tone that soaked in the sun making him look like a Greek god. And this was the guy I blurted out that I’m here alone to . Great move on my part. And here he was, ready to take his claim and kidnap me, like he should, after I volunteered essential safety information to him. Maybe it would teach me to keep my mouth shut.

“Hi, Noah, was it?” I said, hoping he couldn’t see my entire face turning lobster red from the second time he found me in a compromising position with half naked parts of my body in full view.

“Yeah. It’s gonna sound incredibly stupid, but bear with me, please. And I promise it’s not a line but… I feel like I know you. I’m sorry again, but… Do I know you?” he said, scratching the back of his neck in shame.

What a disappointment.

I hated that line. It was enough that guys used it on me in an attempt to flirt or whatever, but I also had to endure it from a lot of random grocery shop goers whenever they thought they recognized me from my glory days as a professional swimmer.

There was no explanation for how humiliating it was to have to explain to someone why they might know your face or pretend that you have no idea what they were talking about. Most of the time, I couldn’t decide which was worse.

“Do I know you?” I thought. “I don’t know, random-lady-in-a-grocery-store. Do you? I’m not in your brain. I can’t tell you if you know me. I sure as hell don’t know you!” I thought. The frustration rose in my blood slightly, accumulated over years of other people employing the same tactic.

“Dude, come on. I thought you’d know better than that,” I responded only half-jokingly, emboldened by the rapport I felt like we’ve developed in the two seconds we spent talking. For some reason, he wasn’t “one of those” in my head. He wasn’t the type of guy who would use such a tired phrase.

“No, okay. I promise I’m not feeding you a line,” he tried to reassure me, but I was already heading out with my backpack and clothes messily gathered in my arms. I figured it was easier and possibly safer to just leave and get dressed far away from creeps that ask that question. No matter how cute they might be. I usually had an impeccable creep radar, but I guess it failed?

“Right, Noah. You know this never works, right?” I riposted with my back turned to him. He followed me a few paces behind.

“Okay, I know it doesn’t and I wouldn’t ordinarily say that, but hear me out. 2005, Willow Elementary School, Noah Hunt, I think our moms were friends… You’re Ella Cooper’s daughter, right? Charlie?” I stopped in my tracks and dropped my stuff in shock upon hearing my own name uttered by who I thought was a total stranger (and frankly, a player) in a completely different state, on my spontaneous May vacation. It’s not like May was a popular month to travel and Oceanside wasn’t that hot of a destination for the Cedar Valley or Willow folks.

What were the chances I would meet my childhood friend, well… my sister’s childhood friend, here? He immediately reached for my stuff, keeping his gaze on my eyes wide-open in recognition. I couldn’t believe I didn’t connect the name and his kind eyes before. It was him.

“Oh my god! Noah!” I exclaimed as memories of visits to the Hunt’s house flooded my brain. This was Noah? He sure grew up nicely. I was hoping my face didn’t give away how much I appreciated what puberty (and probably some weightlifting) did to his body. And he really grew into these caramel eyes.

As a kid his facial features had seemed just too big for his face. But his eyes were the worst offenders. He had a real Puss in Boots vibe and everyone I knew would fall for his innocent toffee-fudge peepers. That’s probably how he got away with so much as a kid. And had half of our school drooling over him. Including my sister. And well, what can I say… I guess, including myself a little bit.

“Yeah! It’s me. In the flesh.”

“I can’t freaking believe it,” I said, still stunned, stepping into his open arms. The hug was warm and soothing. Not on my skin in particular, since I’ve been cooking in the sun for a while now but to my soul. It felt so odd to be confronted with all these memories rushing back. “You grew out your hair… Since 2005.”

“Yeah, I guess I did wear it super short back in school.” He scratched the back of his neck again, which I started to recognize as a discomfort urge. “What are you doing here?” he asked.

“I’m just… I’m vacationing for a few days. Needed a break and just finished the season so I… What are YOU doing here though?”

“I’m also on vacation. Wow, what a coincidence,” he trailed off and realized he’s holding my stuff. “So… no Bruce? Or Bruce Junior?” he joked, looking around and handing me stuff one by one now so I could cover myself up. It felt odd for THE Noah Hunt to be seeing me in a bikini. Not any bikini either, an especially scant one. Not to mention the red blotches of humiliation I was still sporting on my neck and chest I was hoping could pass off as sunburn.

“You got me there. No Bruces .” I hopped into my shorts.

“Not even back at home?” he added with a dose of hesitation like he was crossing a line. But no neck scratching this time. I suppose it was a normal question to ask someone you haven’t seen for years. Just catching up.

“No Bruces there either,” I chuckled and started to wonder if I was flirting with him as I pulled on the loose T-shirt and grabbed my unruly summer curls from under the neckline.

“Okay,” he finalized with a big smile, looking happy with my answer for some reason. I decided to stow away this reaction to overthink and question later.

“And for you?” I asked, not quite sure if it was because I wanted to know or to reciprocate or simply to keep the conversation going. But it came out of my mouth before my brain could comprehend and analyze its meaning.

“Yeah, no Bruces. Or… whatever the female equivalent of that would be,” he said with a shy smile.

I was starting to remember why I liked him so much as a kid. He was such an easy person to chat with. Every time I had gotten the chance to talk to him one on one back then, which hadn’t been much, I remembered how he had tried to make me laugh and I always felt safe around him. It might have been the four year age difference or how his mom used to host us almost every day after school, feed us the name brand Uncrustables or pizza rolls, and take care of our scraped knees, but the familiarity I felt with him immediately was welcomed. I could still remember the faint smell of her vanilla perfume that filled their van and the warm feel of her cashmere sweaters when I inevitably ended up in her arms.

He had the same kind eyes that just pushed all your worries aside and put you at ease. Like an easy, deep breath out. Like coming home after a long day and plopping on the couch after tossing your bra on the floor.

“Okay then,” I started reaching for my backpack now that I was fully dressed. “It was good to see you, Noah.” I meant it.

“Yeah, you too, Charlie.”

I turned around and started my trek back to the Airbnb I was only looking forward to staying in because of that freaking sofa and because I considered it free, seeing as I paid for it a few months ago. Girl math.

“Hey, are you still in Willow?” he shouted behind me.

“No, I’m in Cedar Valley!” I shouted back, turning around and failing to resist a smile.

“No way! I moved there a few years ago too. How weird. Would you…” he started and jogged up to me, a few inches closer than I expected. “Would you wanna grab a drink when you’re back?”

I was stunned. I enjoyed stumbling into an old friend in an unlikely place, but I didn’t think he’d want to do this again. What would that even look like? Also! This was Noah freaking Hunt. There was no way I was getting this right. I didn’t say anything for a while, but he still stared into my eyes with that smile I used to melt for but never admit it.

“I mean…” I started hesitantly.

“We don’t have to. I don’t mean to push. It just feels like such a weird coincidence and… it would be nice to catch up, I guess.”

“Yeah, okay,” I agreed. It w ould be nice to catch up. I guess. As friends. Over a drink. I wasn’t sure if it was my politeness that won out here or I actually wanted to hang out with Noah.

“Okay, great,” he grinned and added “Do you have your phone on you? So I could put my number in?” he palmed his chest in a “tapping my pockets” gesture which he of course didn’t have because I was staring at his impressive and very much naked torso. I started rummaging around my canvas backpack filled with truly useless crap before I produced my phone.

“The old landline won’t do?” I joked, handing him the unlocked device.

“Afraid not. The parents might have gotten rid of that approximately… Fifteen years ago.”

“Yeah, that might cause some issues.”

“Don’t tell me you still remember the old landline number?” He handed the phone back with a new contact saved as “Noah Hunt (Willow Elementary).”

“Oh, yeah. My mom made me recite it every time we left the house. You were our literal emergency contact. ‘If you can’t reach the salon, call Amy Hunt,’ she’d say.”

“Wow, I think mine was 911…” he chortled. His laugh was so warm, so safe and inviting. It felt like you were enveloped by a cozy blanket, just like we used to be, by their fireplace, on cold Oregonian winters. Mrs. Hunt would make us hot chocolates with extra marshmallows to warm us up from playing in the snow as we waited for mom to pick us up after her second shift. Despite being at a beach in full Californian sun, I longed for that warmth again. It’s been a while.

“You’ll call when you’re back?” he half-asked half-stated. I nodded and went on my way thinking about how peculiar this day turned out to be. Peculiar but nice. I dared to turn around with a smile that pushed its way onto my lips and caught him still looking at me. I blushed even more, but he just smiled confidently back and waved before turning around and heading towards his towel. I would probably think about that for the rest of the day and maybe even for the rest of the trip that I was starting to regret a little bit less.





Chapter Five


Noah


“You should have asked for hers instead of giving her yours,” Evan mumbled after he stuffed his face full of sushi. “You goofed it.”

“I didn’t goof it,” I riposted, reaching for my burger. It was one of those nights when we had to order food to the office at 10 p.m. because we worked through lunch, completely lost the comprehension of the word “dinner” and the list of to dos never ended.

They were happening more and more these days despite the tax season having ended. I scarfed down half of my double cheeseburger in one bite, cramming fries soon after as if I hadn't eaten in years.

Thank god for fast food. Always there for you when you don’t have time to even buy groceries, not to mention try to poorly cook them and then eat them. Impossible. Yet, I still regularly deluded myself into thinking I might spend at least one night a week at home for dinner. But instead, the salad wilting in the crisper drawer mocked me every time I grabbed a fresh can of Celsius on the way out the door in the morning. “One day, one day it will be your time, my green friend,” I promised to an inanimate object. Yes, I was slowly going insane.

“She’s not gonna call you. It’s past the acceptable period of grace. She’s just not that into you, man.” He went for the 2000s classic I remember my mom watching back in the day.

“She’s an old friend. There is no period of grace. She can call me whenever. It’s not like I’m waiting by the phone.”

“Bro, you checked it like twenty-eight times in the last hour. You jump at every email ding. And I know it’s only Craig sending you blood-curdling reminders of how truly late we are with this report. Give me a break.” He tossed a soy sauce packet at me and missed spectacularly. “You like her, you care. It’s okay to feel things, you know,” he added in mock therapist speak.

“I know it’s okay. It’s just not what’s happening. I simply wanted to catch up.” I was hoping the lie would stick. But Evan knew me too well.

“Sure. Keep telling yourself that,” he said with a face so full I saw him almost blow chunks.

“Shut up and eat, you idiot. We have work to do. You have more important things to calculate than the number of times I reached for my phone.” I closed the matter with the last bite of my fries and wiping my hands on the flimsy napkins we always got in abundance from those fast food places.

We worked for hours after that and I came home barely preceding the sunrise. I was ready to spend my Saturday as horizontally as possible. Turns out even the most ergonomic chairs couldn’t protect you from the ripping pain of sitting on your ass for sixteen hours a day, five days a week.

***

I was woken up by what I was surprised to discover was my ringtone and had to seriously consider where I was and why I was still wearing my slacks and shirt.

Also, who even called anymore? In this day and age most of us, myself included, had no idea what our ringtones sounded like because either our phones were on silent or we weren’t getting calls. Or both. Mine was a jarring cacophony designed to mimic the buzz of an old landline. Well, maybe the jarring nature of it was because of my circumstances more than the noise itself. It still reminded me a little of the receiver hanging by the kitchen entrance with the cord you could wrap around yourself tenfold.

“Hyelllllo?” I asked as coherently as I was able to after only four hours of uncomfortable dreamless sleep.

My arm was waking up, from having the blood supply cut off by me laying directly on it, faster than my brain. I slowly recognized my minimalist gray bedroom in the darkness of my blackout curtains and last night came back to me.

Right, I was stuck at work until five in the morning and couldn’t be bothered to shower or apparently undress before falling face first on the bed. I must have been checking my email in bed and dozed off.

“Uhm hi, is this a bad time?” the honeyed voice I’ve been waiting to hear for four weeks uttered.

“Charlie? No, this is a great time!” I jumped up and went for “fresh” instead of “freshly awakened”, but I couldn’t help the depth in the voice that you get when you first wake up coming on strong. I sounded like Morgan Freeman smoking a pack of cigarettes per day or recovering from pneumonia.

“It sounds like you just woke up,” she read me to a T. For some reason that made me smile. It would be impossible not to hear the difference in my voice, but the concern and apologetic tone of hers warmed my heart a little. She, on the other hand, sounded rested, awake, and still siren-like.

“I might have. Had a long night,” I said as a way of explaining the diseased vibe I was exhibiting.

“Oh,” she said immediately with understanding. The wrong kind of understanding.

“No! Not like that,” I said, getting up and sliding the uncomfortable clothes off me starting with the shoes I, for some reason, still had on. “An important client had a big merger and… I was at work till 5 a.m., so I’m not the freshest. Please forgive me.”

“Oh,” she said this time more cheerfully. “No, I get it.” A comfortable silence fell on the line.

“Hi,” I said again, regaining composure a little bit, loosening my tie.

“Hi,” she answered warmly and gave the melody of her voice a few seconds to play out. “I was wondering if you would maybe be up for that… drink?”

“Absolutely!” I exclaimed, hiding exactly none of my enthusiasm. “How about tonight? The Blue? Seven o’clock?”

“Yhm, yeah okay. I have time tonight,” she said surprised but upbeat. I could recognize the smile in her voice.

“Okay! Great! See you there then!” I almost jumped from excitement but opted for a subtle punch in the air instead.

“See you there,” she said in place of goodbye and hung up.

Seeing as I slept for only four hours and I had another ten before our date I should have gone right back to bed. But for some reason this phone call and the prospect of seeing Charlie again had me fully awake in seconds. So I dropped my clothes where I stood, figuring that the lack of sleep was a later me problem. A problem that a showered Noah could figure out.

I went to the bathroom opening my heavy navy velvet curtains on the way there, letting a surprising amount of sun in. Oh, so this was what 9 a.m. on a Saturday looked like. I felt like I hadn’t been able to witness this time of day for a while. On weekdays, I would usually already be stuck in the office lit by energy-efficient LED lights trying to mimic something like a daytime sun. But as I realized, it was literally nothing like it. On weekends, I usually ended up sleeping in either from hard work or a night out with the ever-searching Evan.

“I really need a better routine, a routine that would let me witness this more often,” I thought as I looked around and noticed the sun rays completely filling my bedroom. The open curtains let in so much warmth and coziness into the space. It instantly made my modestly furnished apartment look that much more homey. The grey walls that used to scream “bachelor pad” now shone in soft beige hues, making me realize how much nicer this place could look with a warm touch. But I shook off the thought. I had no use for a “cozy” space. I was strictly utilitarian when it came to this apartament.

My bed, while extremely comfortable thanks to the best mattress money could buy, was covered in simple white sheets I could toss into the wash without worrying about them. It had enough pillows and covers to provide a good night’s sleep and absolutely no more. No extra throws or cushions. That was just another thing I would need to spend precious time maintaining and taking care of. This logic extended to the rest of the place.

The couch in my living room was simple, big and faced the TV for those nights I inevitably fell asleep in front of it watching some kind of old movie or financial news. I gave up on trying to keep up with the newest releases, even though it made me clueless at the proverbial water cooler conversations at work.

My kitchen had an incredible coffee machine and microwave because those were the appliances I was using the most, however sad that might sound. But you’d be out of luck trying to find even one sharp chef’s knife or a decent cutting board in there.

I bought this place a year ago because it was really close to work. I wasn’t particular about getting the biggest floor plan or the nicest view of the whole building, but the penthouse just happened to be available, in my price range and able to provide both. And I could see a comfortable existence here. It was a little too big for my needs, with one completely empty room and one nearly empty, since it was dedicated to function as a sort of office, which filled about thirty percent of the vast space. But I was willing to overpay because of the aforementioned distance to work and great amenities I was planning on using again today. Specifically the gym.

So, I started getting ready. I decided to take a brisk shower, even though I was planning on sweating out the stress of this long week shortly. The hope was that a quick rinse under some cold water would wake me up a bit. I couldn’t really rely on that break of consciousness I didn’t dare call sleep. It was closer to a long nap than anything else.

After the shower, I felt marginally more refreshed, but it was coffee that was going to get me all the way there. I turned on the financial news in the background as always and got started on my cup of joe. I was ready for it to breathe life into my zombie body. Having drunk a strong brew with a splash of creamer I grabbed my gym bag and ran out the door.

A long cardio-filled sweat-out would be a perfect remedy for the stress I’ve been under at work and for the stress I was vehemently denying to myself I was feeling about meeting up with Charlie later tonight. I wasn’t sure why I was so nervous though. It used to be so easy between us. That is, if we had gotten the chance to interact. I found myself thinking back to those days on the treadmill. It’s been so long since we last spoke. Like actually spoke . For some reason she would always excuse herself from hanging out with her sister and me.

I remember Charlie sneaking around the house with her books, finding the coziest corners to read and cuddle Sparky, our family cocker spaniel, or helping my mom in the kitchen.

We must have annoyed her so much. She would always leave us alone, which I guess made sense seeing as Vicky and I were the same age and in the same year at school and Charlie was four years our junior. We obviously had a lot more to talk about simply by the virtue of sharing classes. We both endured the dreadful Ms. Hannigan as our English teacher and Mr. Rogers drilling biology into us in the most peculiar ways with more reproductive-systems poems and bacteria-themed songs than reasonable.

The quirks of teachers and fellow students were maybe not the most sophisticated of topics, but it was probably the only thing I really had in common with Charlie’s big sister. Vicky was easy to talk to, sure. But she would never play, never kid. She would take everything so seriously or completely miss my punchlines. And I liked to joke. Vicky would still laugh, but with time I realized how theatrical it came off and I still wasn’t sure what was genuine and what was her doing what she thought would make her more likable.

Charlie was almost the complete opposite of her. She didn’t seem too concerned with appealing to anyone. She kind of lived in her own little world. But she was down for a laugh too, even if she wouldn’t admit it. I distinctly remember times we’d sat at the dinner table with my parents and the girls and telling stories that would include wordplay or puns specifically to induce that tiny giggle she would do her best to conceal. I think I had been the only one noticing her hiding her smile behind the napkin, but her eyes never lied. They always sparkled. And I remembered inadvertently making it my mission to bring out that smile and that sparkle every chance I got.

It was nice to reminisce about back then. Life was so simple. Seeing Charlie in Oceanside last month has brought it all back and frankly, I couldn’t stop thinking about it since. I would get random glimpses of our essentially shared childhood and smile to myself.

Well, there were other things I witnessed that I wasn’t exactly able to stop thinking about, but how gorgeous she grew up to be was neither here nor there. It was far from the first or only reason I wanted to see her again.

I was longing for that simplicity of our childhood, for being known and understood, for the comfort of home. She brought it all back because she immediately felt so familiar and I immediately felt so comfortable around her. I realized I haven’t felt that since I left Willow to go to college. It used to be an everyday occurrence, but I went back home so rarely these days and sometimes even avoided phone calls for fear of a lack of optimistic updates.

All of this got me sappy and nostalgic though and inspired me to plan a trip there for the next upcoming holiday. My mom was going to be thrilled that I wanted to spend the 4th of July with them and I guess about getting the full report on whether Oceanside was worth visiting in person.

It was only a long weekend and I would still work, obviously, but it might be nice to see my folks. I was hoping Craig would somehow let me get away if I stayed glued to my laptop and phone. It wasn’t ideal to take more time off this soon after my vacation, especially with the big VP title hanging over me and pushing me to work harder. But I did really miss home all of a sudden and it felt like going back might do me good.





Chapter Six


Charlie


“It is absolutely NOT an appropriate outfit to wear for drinks!” Lola essentially screamed when she saw me come out of the closet with the fourth combination of a skirt and a top.

We started with a frilly white midi skirt and a simple blue top. Then, we moved on to over-the-knee denim on the bottom and breezy cream linen on top which was also NOT it according to Lola. After that I tried a black on black ensemble which still didn’t feel quite right and the current floral satin skirt and plain top combo was probably the worst one of them all. I was quickly running out of options.

“Is it too much?” I hesitated turning around to see myself in the mirror.

“Yes! It’s absolutely too much! You’re covering way too much!” Lola pointed at my midi skirt and three-quarter length sleeved boat neck T-shirt.

“Why would I be showing things? It’s just drinks between old friends.”

“Is that why you changed your hair three times already?”

“No! It wasn’t laying right today. I was just… trying something.”

“Yeah, you were trying to look hot for Mr. Hunter.”

“Hunt,” I corrected her.

“Oh no, baby. He’s hunting you now, he’s a Hunter. And frankly, you should be too! Come on, show some of that impressive cleavage.” She pushed up her own breast together in encouragement. "You kept him waiting long enough for it."

"I thought he was just being polite when he gave me his number. Why would he want to see me?" I admitted.

"But you called."

"Because you made me! You dialed the number and stuck the phone to my face!"

"I'll be sure to mention that in my toast at the wedding. Ladies and gentlemen, we are gathered here to witness the union between Mr. Hunter and my best friend who I had to force into letting him take her on a date. It has a great ring to it, don’t you think?"

"Oh, come on, Lolz.” I thought that he'd sooner marry my sister. I used to believe that's where it was headed. Not sure what happened there. I shook off the thought and looked back in the mirror. “If this isn’t right… I have nothing to wear.” I flopped on the bed face down resigned.

“Oh no, let’s not say that. I’m coming to the rescue, my love!” Lola exclaimed, barging into my barely walk-in closet.

You know how some women have a ton of clothes and still nothing to wear? Well, that wasn’t my problem. I had a modest amount of clothes and honestly plenty to wear, just maybe not for this sort of occasion. I had endless swimsuits, T-shirts with goofy puns courtesy of my mom, shorts and sweatpants I could wear for work, and I guess a few old “interview” clothes (whatever that meant) but nothing that would say “I’m going out for drinks with a friend” not to mention a “male friend”. Not that that changed anything. Because unlike what Lola thought, it still wasn’t a date. But I guess I did want to look nice.

I was starting to lose hope and think of possible excuses I could text Noah so that I wouldn’t have to face him in what Lola deemed “inappropriate wear” when she peeked out from behind the door frame with a grin.

“Ladies and gentlemen, we have found the winner, baby!” she announced pulling out a long forgotten black jumpsuit. I had no clue when the last time I'd worn this relic was because I was certain I had donated it a few years back.

“Where on Earth did you find this?” I jumped off the bed and started undressing without reservations, ready to see if it still fit.

“In the section labeled: ‘my best friend would kill me if I got rid of these clothes even though I never wear them’. It’s in the back. Easy to overlook.”

“Well, gimme it!” I yanked the jumpsuit off the hanger in one fell swoop and stepped into it. I pulled it up and adjusted the wide cap-sleeve finished straps. I had to admit it. “I look fucking spectacular!”

“Of course you do, my love! Why would you be hiding that hot bod of yours under those loose fits and high necklines?”

“This jumpsuit is really doing all the heavy lifting here.”

“If you’re talking about how amazing it makes your tits look, then I would agree. And that is some truly heavy lifting,” she snorted, laughing at her own joke.

I looked at myself in the mirror taking in every curve, every place the jumpsuit hugged and flowed off my body. The wide legs of the bottom were breezy in the rising temperatures and the heat I expected from the bar, but they didn’t show me off or make me feel too exposed. However, the top with its fitted waist, square neck with a small v-shaped divot in the middle and cap sleeves accentuated the fullness of my breasts and the smaller but by no means thin waist. I pulled my curly hair in a messy updo with a few face framing waves cascading over my cheeks. I felt really fucking hot. Perhaps too hot?

“This is a date outfit though, Lolz.”

“No, it’s a drinks outfit!”

“Yeah, if I were going to drinks with a man I’m hoping to bring back home and have an all-night horizontal-tango session with…”

“Well, that’s still drinks, my love. And please don’t call it horizontal-tango.” She walked around me inspecting the outfit for stray lint or hair.

“I don’t want to give him the wrong impression,” I panicked slightly. If I walked into the bar in this ensemble and he showed up in jeans and a ratty T-shirt I’d feel way overdressed and like I was communicating that I thought this was something it definitely wasn’t.

“Like what? That you’re a hot piece of ass with a great bod and an ever better personality? Yeah, heaven forbid he learns THAT about you.”

“Oh, come on. You know that we’re childhood… Well, he’s Vicky’s childhood friend. I’m just a kid to him. Someone who spent years getting in the way despite trying not to.”

“Well, maybe it’s time to change that.” She stood behind me and pulled my top a little lower showing even more of my cleavage. “You’re no kid anymore.”

***

I showed up to The Blue fifteen minutes early and nervously pulled my top up, feeling suddenly insecure wearing something I felt incredible in a mere half hour ago. In theory. Now being out in public the outfit felt like entirely too much.

I was glad that I at least left my makeup pretty natural; just some eyebrow gel, brown mascara and a bit of concealer to brighten the ol’ dark circles. I didn’t like covering my freckles, wasn’t confident in my bronzing abilities and was sure that a blush would naturally appear on my cheeks with time and unavoidable embarrassment. My lips were covered in a clear lip balm because over the years I’ve learned that anything other than that either made me look like I was trying way too hard or the product ended up on my teeth. And I wanted neither of those to be how Noah first saw me after such a long break. Not that I cared that much how he saw me, I just wanted to avoid embarrassment or at least minimize it. I was starting to think in circles here.

As I looked around I saw mostly couples in darker booths intimately whispering or laughing to each other. The bar had a sexy aura because of it. I also saw a few men hanging around the wide walnut bar ready to pounce. Not many girls, apart from a group of moms enjoying their first night out in a while. And I only knew that because of the loud toast of excitement one of them gave, almost expecting applause from other patrons. It was cute but not really my scene. However, Noah suggested it, so I went with it.

The bar wasn’t too loud but loud enough one might have to raise their voice a little to be heard over the music. But at least the music was tasteful. It was some kind of jazz which was inoffensive to the senses and maybe even good to people who knew enough to appreciate it. I was a little bit sensitive to the loud rock, metal or EDM- blasting places, so I was glad this wasn’t one of them. You never know with bars. And this was my first time in The Blue.

In my nerves I decided that a glass in my hand would at least give me something to fidget with, something where I could put my nervous energy, so I headed down to the bar.

“A virgin mojito, please,” I told the bartender and observed him intently, making sure he heard the virgin part loud and clear. I got my drink after a minute, certain that he didn’t put any alcohol in it and I sat down. I didn’t want to be one of those people so I didn’t immediately stick my face in my phone. Apparently, that was received as an invitation by the dark-skinned, tall and slim man at the end of the bar. He came up to me and confidently took the stool on my right.

“Hey, I saw you sitting here and thought I’d come over and say ‘hi’,” he said in a velvety voice over the saxophone coming from the speakers.

“Hi,” I responded, definitely awkwardly. I wasn’t really sure how this was supposed to go usually. Like I said, not really my scene. Also, I was waiting for someone, but I wasn’t sure how one communicates that to the other person in this scenario.

“You have a great sense of style. You look beautiful,” he continued undeterred by my awkwardness and clear lack of engagement.

“Thank you,” I answered honestly and added “To be frank, my friend dressed me so compliments really should go to her,” I tried for a light joke. It didn’t read as one.

“Well, you wear it well.”

“Thank you again.” I smiled politely, not sure how to proceed. It wasn’t that I was being berated or harassed by this admittedly handsome man. I just wasn’t interested. And possibly too considerate to say that outright. I prayed for some kind of rescue when I heard him.

“Hey, do I know you? You look so familiar,” a smooth deep voice from behind me said at the same time as my mystery friend opened his mouth to add something more.

I couldn’t help but laugh as I turned towards the familiar voice of Noah. I couldn’t believe he brought that up again after my total embarrassment at the beach assuming he was a stranger trying to flirt with me. This time it felt even more like flirting but completely performative. He smiled back and I took him in. He wore a nice pair of black slacks and a crisp white shirt. I was glad to see he left one more button open than perhaps necessary.

“I’m not sure, do you?” I responded in a coquettish tone, leaning into the joke, turning my whole body towards him and resting my back against the bar seductively.

“Well, how about I get to know you over a drink? What do you say?” He offered his elbow to lead me to a booth he apparently reserved for us. “Works every time!” he stage-whispered to the stunned man we left behind and giggled with me. Classic Noah!

“It’s good to see you,” he said in his normal but excited tone once we were at our seats.

“It’s great to see you too,” I replied with a stupidly cheesy smile and leaned into his arm I was still holding.

I couldn’t help but notice the hard muscles responding to my pressure, realizing I’m basically squeezing him against my tits in a sort of side hug. Which I probably should not be doing. This was not the kind of vibe I wanted to lead with. Or end with for that matter. But I didn’t think he had noticed it, so I just gently dropped it as we sat down in a corner of our booth in the corner of the bar. He looked at me and smiled. And just as he started opening his mouth a server materialized at our table, straightening themself as they arrived.

“What can I get you?” they asked quietly but just loud enough to drown out the music playing much more softly now that we were in a somewhat secluded part of the bar.

“Charlie?” he said and gestured to indicate a sort of right of way.

“I’ll take a virgin mojito, please,” I said, realizing I left my drink at the bar next to the guy trying to pick me up once I saw Noah. No use trying to retrieve a barely tasted beverage abandoned at a bar. Who knows what might have happened to that.

“I’ll follow the lady’s lead. Make that two,” Noah added, shining his perfect teeth in a gentlemanly fashion and the server disappeared as quickly and mysteriously as they appeared.

“So, virgin mojito? That’s not an order you hear every day,” he started.

“I guess not,” I answered, immediately interpreting his inquiry as judgement.

All the nerves I felt before seeing him today accumulated and multiplied in an instant. I felt myself retreating into my shell with just that one sentence. It was almost like a panic, a downward spiral, an undeniable belief that I must have been coming off strange already. People went to bars, they drank. It was normal. My stupid paranoia wasn’t something I needed to dump on him first thing . I could still lie and say I was on medication or that I was driving. Anything. We haven’t seen each other in so long and I was supposed to start with my irrational fear of being drunk? I was seriously spiraling until he spoke again.

“You don’t drink?” he started, his voice filled with gentleness and understanding. I looked for judgement behind the words but came up empty.

“No,” I paused, wondering how honest I could be. I went for completely . “Can’t help but feel like I owe it to dad.”

He passed away a while back after he got hit by a drunk driver. I didn’t talk about it much because no matter how long it’s been, the wound still felt fresh, even though I was small when it happened. My dad had been my best friend as a kid. He would spend every possible moment, all afternoons and weekends with us. And not just doing “dad stuff”. I mean sure, he’d taught us how to ride bikes and play catch. But he was down to dive into the most complicated drama-ridden world of my Barbies, my teddy afternoon teas and the endless performances I would put on for my parents. He would always encourage me and be the biggest cheerleader for any idea I’d had.

Vicky became a teenager in spirit much earlier than in years, so at some point she thought it all lame. But I loved that time with him. And it broke my heart every time I thought about the accident that ripped him from my life. His goodness and excitement for living to the fullest were interlaced with everything I knew about life, everything I knew about love. When he passed and the fabric of my being unravelled, it all felt so pointless. I would escape into books and sometimes forget completely how horrible my life was. But that pain never really left me. From then on, I couldn’t help but feel abandoned or alone most of the time.

Noah nodded. It seemed that he understood how I felt without me having to relive that through the rehearsed story of losing a parent too early. Noah had been there, he had seen how hard it was for all of us.

We’d started regularly going to the Hunt’s shortly after my dad’s passing, when mom had been in the throes of depression and trying to reorganize our lives. It felt almost like we’d had to build our family from scratch and it never really returned to how it had been before.

“Do you miss him?” he asked hesitantly, knowing the answer but signaling with the question that he understood me.

“Every day.” I realized my voice was breaking and tears were gathering in the corners of my eyes. “I never really talk about it, I’m sorry,” I added as an excuse before they started falling.

“It’s okay.” He covered my hand with his on top of the table and squeezed gently. “I’m here if you want to,” he offered.

The gesture warmed something in me, something that was frozen for a while now. Since I never spoke about my father, even with Lola, I never really got the support and space to talk about it. My mom and sister were grieving too, but they both seemed to not want to talk about it soon after and I was left alone with my pain. His gesture helped.

It also made my skin feel strange. As if my nerves were picking up on something more than touch. Just like in Oceanside. They were firing rapid signals to my brain making the skin feel almost tingly, effervescent. We sat there for a second with his hand on mine and both jumped slightly at the server appearing next to us and handing us our drinks. I looked at my frosty glass hesitantly. Noah must have noticed that slight shift in my demeanor because he went for a sip first.

“You’re good, Char. It’s virgin.” I was flooded with gratitude for the small gesture and smiled at the nickname.

“No one calls me Char. Just Lola,” I blurted out almost automatically more as an observation than a reprimand.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to…”

“No, I like it,” I reassured him, regaining that feeling of warmth and familiarity I felt when I saw him on that beach. It felt right for him to call me that. And I couldn’t explain why.

“So, Char… How’s life?” he asked and I couldn’t help but laugh at the ridiculousness of the reality we found ourselves in.

Granted, we were never besties; he was friends with Vicky more than he was ever friends with me. But we used to know so much about each other. I knew what the Hunts served for dinner almost every weekday, what brand of toothpaste and toilet paper they would buy, what shows Noah used to be obsessed with and what he looked like first thing in the morning with pillowcase creases on his face. And now it felt like we were virtually strangers. But I guess we were here to change that.





Chapter Seven


Noah


“I really don’t,” I laughed. “I probably should, but I really don’t have any hobbies,” I answered the dreaded question.

After we caught each other up on our families, discussed our small friend circles, my all-consuming corporate banking job and Charlie’s Riverstone University swimming coach job, we moved on to the “free time” question variety. And since I have long forgotten the meaning of the phrase, because I spent most of my time at the office, I was apprehensive to admit that there was nothing else that tickled my fancy. Other than the gym, which I saw as a necessity at this point. But she made me feel safe to openly declare myself as a boring hobby-less workaholic.

“I mean you don’t HAVE TO have hobbies, Noah,” she added with another giggle.

Which was exactly how the past few hours were spent, just back and forth giggles that sometimes made her slap my arm or laugh so hard I thought I heard a little snort sneak out. And I cherished every moment. How was she so easy to talk to? And why did my name sound so sweet on her lips? I guess I never thought we would find ourselves on a date almost fifteen years after we last saw each other, but I couldn’t deny how great it felt.

Not that I wouldn’t welcome seeing each other more back then but it wasn’t in any way romantic. The four years age difference had seemed much bigger when we were eight and twelve or even fourteen and eighteen, which was when we last spent any time together. I just hadn’t thought of her that way, I guess. The way that I sometimes thought about her now. The way seeing her in a teeny bikini in Oceanside made me think of her. She definitely wasn’t a kid anymore, oh no.

“I want to! Don’t get me wrong. I would LOVE to have a hobby. Even just one. It’s just… I don’t know when I could possibly devote any time to doing it.”

“Are they really working you that hard over there at Cedrinum?” she said and completely missed her own double entendre.

“Oh, so hard.” I couldn’t help myself but lean into the flirting. I was hoping to see more of that smile I enjoyed so much.

“Noah!” she exclaimed and slapped me on the arm again.

Her touch lasted only a second and it was a very light slap, but I felt my skin buzzing underneath. Just like when she squeezed my arm before. I still felt the softness of her body pressing into me. It felt right.

“But really, yeah. The hours are pretty crazy and like I told you, I’m gunning for the VP title, which makes them even crazier. Most weeks I put in ninety or so hours nowadays.”

“No time to date then,” she stated, but I heard a faint question mark at the end.

We haven’t reestablished our relationship statuses again since Oceanside, although it’s only been a month. I did invite her on a date and I wasn’t the type of guy who would do that while having someone else on his mind, but it was fair of her to ask.

“Sadly, not really,” I said almost automatically. “I guess not sadly. I’m pretty content with my life as it is. No one to disappoint on a regular basis.”

It was mostly true. There was a part of me, a somewhat hidden, asleep part of me that wasn’t content with constant work and no one to share the little free time I had. I felt it in her presence more than when I pushed the thoughts away every minute I spent with my nose in a spreadsheet. But it was honest when I said that entering a relationship while my life looked like this would feel like a breeding ground for pain for everyone involved.

“You’re not yearning for someone to come home to? Are we really all so bad?” she mocked me in good faith.

“I guess I haven’t found anyone to come home to yet. But you wouldn’t catch me dead saying that all women are bad. I happen to think most of you are lovely. Hence staying away from you,” I retorted with my arms up in a gesture of surrender.

“How does that make sense?” She turned a bit more serious.

“I have a bit of a history of biting more than I can chew. No pun intended. I don’t usually bite, actually. Unless asked to.” I was glad to earn a giggle and a flood of blush entering her cheeks. “Back to the topic. I had a few relationships I wasn’t fully there for. I would have a great time with someone, want to see them more, but whenever something urgent came up at work, I retreated and focused on that instead. I know how wrong of me it was to string them along, so after my last relationship ended for the same reason the previous three did, I looked inward and found that, yes, I AM in fact the problem. I sort of stopped dating since.” I tried for honesty . “For the most part,” I added, given the situation we were in, obviously, and started questioning if this could be different.

I definitely didn’t want to put her through this, but something deep inside compelled me to invite her out, compelled me to spend the whole night talking to her, compelled me to see her again and make time for her.

“I guess they probably weren’t perfect either…?” she said as a devil’s advocate. I felt like she really wanted to know. She wasn’t saying that just to make conversation. And I was sure she wouldn’t judge me for whatever I might say.

“In all honesty, I blamed them for a lot of it at the beginning. I was bitter and didn’t have the understanding I have now. Now, I’m fully aware that it wasn’t their fault. Maybe it was just easier to say it’s them, so I wouldn’t have to face my own shortcomings. But I suppose I never really felt this… spark either,” I said looking into her still (and always) slightly smiley eyes. “The spark I used to chase when we were kids,” I didn’t add for fear of coming on too strong.

This felt like something really precious, something I had to be careful with, so I dialed down the charm a bit. I lost myself again for a second in those deep blue eyes sparkling just like the ocean in full sun. And for a moment maybe I saw her forget herself too.

“And you…?” I asked coming back to reality reluctantly.

“Oh, I have a ton of hobbies. I knit, I crochet, I sew, I cook, I bake, I roller skate, I do rock climbing and every second Wednesday of the month I lead the seniors’ bingo,” she said, cleverly avoiding the real question I wanted to know the answer to.

“Wow, that’s an impressive list.”

“That’s just current. I used to make clay jewelry and did cookie decorating, there was pottery, which I desperately want to go back to, I walked puppies from the shelter, I brewed kombucha and cultivated a very active sourdough-sharing community,” she explained proudly but without pretense.

Her eyes were iridescent with enthusiasm. Talking about her hobbies got her so much more excited than her work, which she clearly had plenty of passion for. But this was on another level. Evidently, Charlie was one of those people who worked to live not lived to work. Unlike me.

“With such an impressive resume, you should be my hobby consultant,” I joked.

In a second her face completely changed.

She turned serious and said “Don’t play with my heart, Noah. I would LOVE to actually do that! If that was a real job, I’d apply instantly. Trying new things, getting people excited about learning a new skill or opening up their world one afternoon at a time. Are you kidding me? That’s like the perfect setup!” We laughed at that in unison.

The way she described it even got ME excited. She felt like she would be perfect for the role, honestly. But it seemed so far-fetched and ridiculous that we couldn’t help but both giggle at the prospect.

Despite neither of us having a drop of alcohol in our systems, we felt giddy and giggly as if we had that perfect amount of spirits to get tipsy but nowhere near drunk. I guess we were feeding off of the nostalgia of the late 2000s when the Cooper girls, as I used to call them, would spend time together at my parent’s house. And the connection that we seemed to have that instantaneously returned from that time, unchanged if not matured like fine wine.

“Why does it actually sound like a good idea though?” I wondered out loud.

“Because it is!” she grabbed my bicep again and I reveled in the tingles her warm hands gave me. “I mean, I’m not gonna pressure you to enjoy your life a little, Mr. Banker-Man, but taking an afternoon off here and there would do you good, I fear.” she chortled.

“Okay, okay! No need to kick me while I’m down. On the floor. Crying my eyes out. In the fetal position,” I enumerated. “I really could use a break,” I added in a wistful tone.

“What are you saying then?” she hesitated, excitement building slowly behind the question.

I couldn’t help myself. I had to hold onto that gaze just a second longer, even though I was sure of my answer already. Those sparkling eyes brought me right back to my old dining room table with her hiding her smile behind my mom’s elaborately embroidered napkins. I could live off that sparkle.

“It does sound interesting... I could use an accountability buddy for this, otherwise there’s no way I would prioritize it. I mean if you’re down…” I said. “And it would give me an excuse to see you,” I thought.

“You’re saying it as if finding a hobby is this arduous, torturous process.”

“No! I just need some hand-holding. I’d have no idea where to start if I were to try on my own. How would you imagine this?” I gestured vaguely between us. The question of her openness to see me again tied into it.

“Well, I could like… Show you some of my hobbies? Maybe you’d find something you would want to continue. I could like… show you the world? Shining, shimmering, splendid? Tell me, prince. Now, when did you last let your heart decide?” she asked in a completely serious tone, bringing up my favorite Disney movie from my childhood.

I was pretty sure I broke the tape because I watched “ Aladdin” so much. I wondered if she remembered that or if it was a random song that came to her mind.

“With new horizons to pursue. I'll chase them anywhere. There's actually no time to spare, but…” I continued with what I thought would be the most appropriate lyrics for this moment.

“Let me share this whole new world with you!” we sing-songed at the same time and burst out laughing.

Her melodic giggles filled every inch of my soul and I was desperate to keep them coming. Even if it meant I’d have to play hooky at work every now and again.

“Okay then, we’re on,” I told her and she immediately started doing tiny hand claps of joy. It was so cute I could barely hold in my adoration. We shook on it and agreed to meet every week to try something new. Even the idea of carving out time from work to see someone, not to mention doing it regularly, was already new to me.

We were so enthralled in our conversation we completely lost track of time, but despite the fun we were having I saw Charlie hide at least three yawns and my eyelids were starting to get heavier and heavier too, seeing as I only had four hours of sleep and a short nap filled with job-related nightmares. But I didn’t want this to end. I wanted to keep talking all night if she’d let me. At the same time my heart ached seeing her getting sleepy and still being stuck here with me. And that ache won. I was just about to suggest we called it a night when she spoke.

“I think we should probably get going so they don’t close the bar on us,” she started as if reading my mind. Or simply my face that was probably melting one feature at a time from the bone-deep tiredness I was fighting just so I could get more time with her.

“I guess so,” I reluctantly admitted. “Did you drive here?”

“No, you actually picked a bar that’s literally four blocks away from my apartment, so I took a stroll.”

“Well, let me walk you back then,” I offered and gestured for the server to close our virgin mojitos-filled tab.

“You don’t have to, Noah. It’s really close,” she said without much conviction.

“Let me,” I replied decisively, which seemed to work on her because she just smiled and nodded quickly. She was so clearly tired and the night was so dark, I wouldn’t have taken no for an answer anyway. But I was glad to have her on board. Because despite her weak turn-down of my offer before, her eyes were filled with gratitude.

I let myself rest my palm gently on the small of her back as I was leading her out of the labyrinthine bar. I felt the heat of her skin through the fabric and savored the tingles touching her or getting touched by her apparently gave me. It felt like my skin was screaming for the contact and getting it felt at once soothing and exhilarating. Almost like electricity running through my skin, like an effervescent aspirin tablet dropped in a glass of water. It was almost… Fizzy. Yeah, it felt fizzy.

***

“You look gorgeous tonight if I may be so bold. Don’t know why I haven’t mentioned it before,” I said as we paused on the steps to her place.

She lived in a small townhouse apartment on a quiet street. The whole scene of her standing on those stairs with her hair falling gently on her face, her smile never leaving her face and her sparkly eyes staring at me from below because of our height difference was so picturesque. I wished I could somehow capture this view and commit it to memory, before it inevitably faded away. I took a mental picture of it all.

I was debating if that compliment was something an old friend would say if he had no ulterior motives. But it was a moot point because I did have ulterior motives. I wanted to see her again, I wanted to claim this night as the date I believed it was, as a soft promise to see each other again not because we had to like when we were kids but because we wanted to like I always did, that this could be something the other person would look forward to. I needed that.

“Yes, you may,” she responded in a fake British accent and chuckled. “You’re not so bad yourself,” she added, sounding a little James Bond-esque.

“Well, thank you!” I continued the game and came an inch closer.

“I had a really great time catching up with you,” she said in her normal voice again. This made my heart sing which I was in no position to express, even though I wanted to. “It’s always nice to see an old friend.” This however made it sound like a chicken getting chased for slaughter and screaming out of tune.

Was this all that had happened tonight? Just old friends catching up? I guess in a sense that had been, sure. But I really liked her. I wanted to see her and since I (well, I think both of us) enjoyed it so much, why not see where it goes? It felt so dismissive and distancing.

“Yeah, always nice…” I said, trying to hide my disappointment and confusion.

Was I not making it clear that I really enjoyed myself? That I found her incredibly attractive and even more incredible to talk to? Should I be saying something else? Was this her way of setting up a lovely little friendzone for me to stay in? The questions flooded my brain. I was at a loss but determined not to make her uncomfortable, so I didn’t inquire further. Maybe she just wanted to take things slow.

“Well, we’ll be in touch regarding our hobby… consulting,” she clearly wanted to avoid the word “date” here “and… I’ll see you then.”

Why did she sound so awkward all of a sudden? This was a complete 180 from the conversation we had all night, but I wasn’t going to be the idiot to say it out loud. Clearly something bothered her and she needed to work through it. I decided that it was probably best to not push and give her space. Maybe she wasn’t good at goodbyes.

All my assumptions and excuses swirled around my brain with one thing coming up clear. This was not the time to kiss her goodnight. No matter how much her full lips with those upturned corners called to me.

“Okay then,” she added and gave me a quick hug I wished lasted longer and ran towards the door. “Bye, Noah.”

“Bye, Char. See you soon,” I said as the door was closing behind her and the feel of her body faded from my arms. “I hope so,” I added to no one.





Chapter Eight


Charlie


“What a stupid, stupid idiot you are!” I said to myself as soon as I closed my apartment door behind me. “Hobby… consulting?”

I smacked myself in the forehead maybe a touch too strongly because now instead of thinking how dumb I was at the end of our hang out, I was focused on the pain. Just another argument for being a stupid idiot right there.

I decided that the best course of action was to completely ignore the ease with which I talked to Noah for hours, and the jokes he was so ready to make, and the understanding he had no hesitation providing, and the arms…

“Oh god, Charlie. Just go to sleep,” I said to myself and face planted onto the covers.

***

I woke up the next day a little later than usual, but when I checked my phone I lit up instantly. I guess I couldn’t control it.

“Can virgin mojitos give you a hangover? Asking for an old friend.” the text from Noah read, whose number I now had saved as “Noah Hunt (Old Friend)”. At some point of the night I changed it and added a silly photo I snapped of him at the bar. He’d done the same on his device. It felt more… accurate after the night we had spent together.

“It must be all that sugar and staying up past your bedtime,” I typed in reply. “Advil and plenty of water (and maybe a few scoops of dry protein powder or whatever it is you normally consume) will right you right up.” I smiled at the phone.

The fact that we felt so comfortable teasing each other and joking was a bit unnerving. We haven’t seen each other in over fourteen years and it felt like it was just yesterday. Only somehow better.

It was always a crapshoot meeting someone you knew as a kid. I was usually afraid that people I used to know still thought of me as the person I had been way back when. I was a really awkward and quiet kid when I last saw Noah, but it felt like he was excited to get to know me as the person I was today. Which was a new experience.

I guess my introversion wasn’t one of the things I grew out of, but I didn’t feel shy with him at all. I felt so much more free to be myself around him because he already knew me to some degree. He saw me through an awkward growth spurt and I saw him through hideous prom photos. That level of humiliation made things instantly lighter.

If yesterday had been a date, it would probably have been one of the best dates I’d ever been on. What am I even saying? It would hands down have been the best date I’d ever been on! The simple fact that I cried, snort-laughed, and yawned which was met with zero judgement on his side, would be reason enough. But I also had the most fun ever. Only Lola rivaled him in making me laugh. Which reminded me that I was expecting her soon.

“I’ll try that!” I saw on the screen. “I mean… I will relay this message to my old friend!” he quickly added and I immediately thought that today would be a nice day no matter what. It already had a pretty good start.

***

After relaying to her the events that transpired the night before, Lola decided that it definitely was a date. No doubt about it.

“The eye contact? The ‘good to see yous’ and ‘you’re hots’? That’s clear date behavior,” she stated.

“I’ll give you the eye contact, but he did not tell me I’m hot,” I cackled over a cup of coffee sitting at my kitchen counter conveniently forgetting the last compliment Noah paid me last night. Which was a PG version of Lola’s bold statements.

As we talked, she engaged in her recent business venture and hobby - making aesthetic food boards. I had almost nothing to eat at home since Sunday was usually my grocery store day, but she was making do with whatever she could find.

“I’m sure he thought it ! How could he not?” she said with conviction and like the topic was not up for debate and showed me the progress on her breakfast spread.

I nodded, impressed.

With the last half cup of pancake mix she somehow managed to produce a collection of little silver dollar pancakes and arranged them in a wave across my wooden cutting board. She added triangles of my last frozen Eggo waffle, some strawberries and blueberries, chocolate sauce I had no idea where she found, and a pot of maple butter. She didn’t have much to work with but she somehow made it look like a piece of edible art.

“This is impressive, Lolz,” I admitted, sipping my wake-up brew.

My head was not quite there yet. I must have lost it at The Blue the day before. We did stay up past my usual bedtime, I suppose. And sleep was very important to me. I built the habit of prioritizing it when I was an athlete and some things I didn’t think I needed to unlearn. The strict diet and workout routine from my glory days were long gone, although I still swam recreationally as often as I could. But sleep was not something I wanted to mess with. I did have fun last night though, so no regrets were had.

“I know, right? I’m finally getting good ,” she said proudly.

“You’ve been good!” I exclaim. How was it that our friends could see our strengths and advantages so clearly when we had no idea where to even look? Lola was so talented and capable at everything she touched and she couldn’t see it for the longest time. Only recently did she start slowly accepting my compliments on her undeniable skills and I’m guessing her therapist had something to do with this new practice. “Now give me some because I’m starving!” I added, ready to devour her creation.

“One sec!” she said, carrying the board and my tea towel with lemon embroidery I gave it last summer to the ottoman in the living room she was now pulling toward the window. “For Insta.” I nodded with understanding.

She was growing her business like no tomorrow and her followers loved seeing updates from her life and practice boards she was making in her free time. It was a budding entrepreneurship, but she was already booked for the next few weekends for baby showers, engagement parties and graduations alike.

This was probably the fourth business she opened since we’ve met some odd ten years ago at the college cafeteria and she killed it every time. She was the one that made me keep trying new things.

“This doesn’t have to be something you do for the rest of your life, my love,” she would say whenever I was dragged beside her to bungee jumping, mini golf, sip & paint, and dog grooming 101. She was the reason my life was so full of joy and activities. There was no boring moments with Lola. How could there be? Between her PA job at one of the most watched food shows in the country, her wedding photography business and now this, she filled her life with excitement and I was honored to be a part of it.

After we ate and analyzed yesterday’s evening in detail for the third time now I faced the question I dreaded since I was a champion swimmer.

“So… what’s next?”

“Oh, Lolz. Must you also?” I moaned. That question was so loaded. After every success and every obstacle I cleared I was asked that very thing. As if what I’d just accomplished had never been enough. I’d always had to push on, even when I’d been at the edge of exhaustion, because there was always something bigger I could have done.

“Sorry, love. I’m just curious… Are you gonna see him again?”

“I don’t know.”

I omitted the part of the night when we agreed I would be his hobby consultant for no other reason than because it was a joke, a fun thing to theorize about, a fake plan. I had no expectations these hang outs would be happening. Those had been the virgin mojitos and late-night giggles talking.

“Well, do you want to?” she asked, nudging me in my side. I got up from the floor next to the ottoman we ended up having our breakfast on and carried the dishes back to the kitchen.

“In a perfect world? If no one else existed? Sure, I’d love to see him again.”

“Like the last man on Earth situation?” Her eyebrows shot up. “He didn’t seem that bad.”

“More like the last Cooper on Earth,” I said, without realizing what a can of worms I had opened.

“He doesn’t like your family? I thought your mom was friends with his folks.” I winced realizing this was probably the time I should tell Lola the reason for the cat and mouse game before we’d met last night. To be honest, I should have told her before she’d made me call him.

“Yeah, our moms worked at the same hair salon and they loved each other. It’s Vicky that has me hesitating,” I went on figuring it was too late to back out.

“She hates him or something?” Lola asked, completely invested in the story, waiting for me to spill the hot piping tea she considered my childhood years since I was pretty tight-lipped about them.

“Quite the opposite. They were a couple.”

“WHAT?” She jumped up and ran to join me in the tiny kitchen where I got started on the dishes. “Tell me everything.”

So I did. I told her how often we’d stayed at the Hunt’s after my dad had passed away and we’d had to move to a smaller home since his salary had been the one keeping us afloat up to that point and my mom had had to pick up a second job beside hairdressing. She’d been a dental assistant and a damn good one at that, but it still meant that in order to keep our extracurriculars and so we wouldn’t be without, she’d worked a lot. That was when we would be dropped off at the Hunt house or even picked up by Mrs. Hunt from school. We would eat their dinners, watch their Disney tapes, even “borrow” their school supplies when my mom hadn’t been on top of what we’d needed. It had helped that Vicky and Noah had been in the same year and attended a lot of the same classes. I’d been the odd one out.

Whenever we would visit they’d immediately run upstairs to Noah’s hidey hole. I could still hear Mrs. Hunt’s “Don’t forget Charlie, you guys!” from the bottom of the stairs with her thin-fingered and freshly-manicured hand on my shoulder. “Go on, honey. They just have a lot of homework and are distracted, I’m sure,” she would say in good faith.

But sometimes they would forget me downstairs and I didn’t want to face the humiliation of being the third wheel to my older sister and her boyfriend. In those instances I would seek out Sparky and cuddle up with him on my lap or help Mrs. Hunt in the kitchen. In others, I had gone upstairs with them, but they would immediately start whispering and giggling all secretively making me feel like an outsider even more.

So I would “go to the bathroom” for hours. Most of the time I would actually hole up in one of the guest rooms and read my books. They’d been happy enough without me. I could still hear my sister’s thunderous laugh reverberate in my ears. Almost a cackle.

I remembered them sitting close and leaning into each other, playing board games completely invested and even going to the movies without me. Being four years older they’d been able to go see the PG 13 showings much earlier than me and they often would.

Vicky would try to convince me I wasn’t missing out by complaining about the popcorn not being buttered enough or the seats being uncomfortable in the theater. But she would still describe their dates in vivid detail and I could only imagine the rest when she would dismiss me with a simple “you’ll know when you’re older” every time she would venture into what she thought inappropriate for little ears.

It wasn’t exactly something I liked thinking and talking about. Frankly, I liked that Lola barely knew my sister and my mom. When we met in college, my family was what I was actively running away from, though I couldn’t admit it then.

When mom had been away for long hours and we hadn’t ended up at the Hunt’s place, Vicky had started taking over mom-ing me. Which for her had meant ordering me around and enforcing ridiculous rules just so she could throw her age and “maturity” in my face when I pushed back.

By the time I’d left high school she’d started her law degree which made her even more bossy despite not living at home with me and mom anymore. She would take to commenting on my grades, my outfits, my body, my hobbies, my friends and seemingly every other choice I made. She’d fake concern to excuse her constant nitpicking.

Looking back, I could understand why I was so adamant about becoming my own person, trying new things and meeting new people in college. And NEVER talking about my family. Even still, Lola had to pull it out of me and I tried to steer away from talking about the great Ms. Victoria Cooper, Esq.

“So they would leave you behind and go necking ?” Lola was stunned. I cringed recalling those moments even though I also remembered the happy, light times we’d sometimes had.

“I can only hope it wasn’t more. I mean we started going there when I was like eight? Maybe nine? So they were thirteen. And we stopped when they turned eighteen, some odd five years later. Those are the formative years, if you know what I mean.”

“Oh, I sure do,” she commented with a whistle. “I can’t believe that, honestly.”

“Well, that’s what happened.”

“Oh no, my love. I believe you . I just can’t believe they would be so stupid to miss out on hanging with the coolest person in the world!” She ran to hug me.

“Oh shut up, you! I know you’re just trying to make me feel better.”

“Well, is it working?” she said and squeezed tighter.

“It really fucking is,” I muttered falling deeper into her arms and burying my face in her shoulder thinking I was stupid for feeling sorry for myself. I didn’t think I was still hung up on that all those years later, but I guess when you were ignored and dismissed for that long, you couldn’t just ignore and dismiss your feelings about it.





Chapter Nine


Noah


I couldn’t help myself when I woke up. I had to text her immediately. It wasn’t even like I was that hungover, although I wasn’t used to consuming that much sugar at once. Those virgin mojitos really packed a punch.

I just needed to talk to her and it seemed a bit too eager to be planning our next date. Look at me honoring “the grace period”. Would it even be a date? Last night’s awkward goodbye had me wondering if she was trying to friendzone me already or didn’t have a nice time. Maybe I misread her soft touches and teasing. After all, I didn’t know yet if that was her normal MO or an expression of interest which I initially interpreted it as.

But I couldn’t shake the desire to see her again, so I decided to distract myself. I blasted some music and started deep cleaning, which didn’t take long seeing as I’d decluttered my apartment to the point of austerity. Then I went for a quick run and got my groceries I was sure I would watch slowly die over the course of the next week. But you can’t fault a guy for trying.

I filled up most of my day with admin tasks and catching up on work I missed by going out with Charlie, hoping it would take my mind off things, but in reality I just created the perfect breeding ground for images of her sparkling eyes, long lashes, freckled neck, soft hands, and full bust entering my mind at will.

I would see a funny looking dog and find myself wanting to text her a picture of it. Poppy seed bagels reminded me of her freckled shoulders she bared to me at the beach in Oceanside. Touching my bicep while showering off the sweat from my run would bring back the fizzy warmth I felt when she touched me there yesterday.

Fuck, I was done for.

I couldn’t remember the last time I felt this giddy at the prospect of seeing someone. And all of it was happening so fast. I also couldn’t remember the last time I felt this free and comfortable with another person in general. Even with Evan after all those years of friendship, I felt like he didn’t always understand me. But with Charlie, it was almost impossible not to crave her laugh, her gravelly voice, her openness. It was natural to reciprocate the vulnerability and excitement.

My head was buzzing with all those thoughts and I was desperate to see her again soon. But then, reality hit. Going back to work the next day was not easy, but I was ready to be too busy or too damn tired to miss Charlie.

And that was essentially what had happened.

We texted a bit here and there, sent each other a few memes or “great day” wishes whenever I had the luxury of eating lunch. But more often than not we would sort of miss each other. Her good morning texts would get answered some time in the late afternoon and my good night texts were appreciated only the next morning. It was hard to make it work and I was having flashbacks of my previous girlfriends saying that I was never around.

But then again those texts were more of a “how dare you not answer me” variety (which I kind of deserved) and with Charlie it always felt nice. Even if a tad delayed. On Saturday, however, I realized that a whole week has passed since we last saw each other and I figured that the grace period was wholly respected and I might now initiate the next date.

I called instead of texting, which was our usual method of communication, but this seemed a bit more… pressing, important, worthy of a call? And she called me last time so I wanted to return the gesture.

“Hi, Noah!” she almost exclaimed. I could instantly hear the smile in her cheery morning voice. I didn’t think I’d wake her since it was past nine, but she still sounded a little more gravelly than usual. I relished the sound. “I didn’t know you knew that the device you’re holding can make calls! Since you were so surprised I called last week.”

“Well, you helped me discover this ancient feature. And I wanted to hear your voice.”

“You’re getting the morning special as we speak. Just woke up five minutes ago.”

“I think I must have sensed that. How come though? Rough night?”

“Long practice. We’re prepping for this big meet… Not important.”

“It is important, come on,” I assured her and she told me all about her best performers, the girls that needed more coaching and even an injury one of them sustained that put the whole team in poor spirits.

I could listen to her talk about this for hours. Actually, I could probably listen to her talk about literally nothing for hours. And with every word I hung onto I could feel myself pulled toward her more and more and wanting to hear that voice in my ear at all times. Especially with this seductive morning raspiness. I knew that I was crossing into dangerous territory but I couldn’t stop my feet from leading me right to the edge of the cliff. Ready to fall.

After she explained everything she simply stated “You called,” realizing I must have had an agenda or a topic in mind when I dialed her number. Which I did.

“Yeah. Wanted to ask you if you would be up for a hang out tonight? Maybe you can introduce me to a new world?”

I was hesitant in calling it a date seeing as she tried so hard to avoid the word the other day. Maybe we should take things slower then. I should give her space to call it whatever she was comfortable with. What mattered to me was that I got to see her again.

“Oh… Yeah! I’m definitely up for that! I honestly didn’t think you were serious with this hobby business, but I am excited. Oh, I know where I should take you first!” she said mischievously. The energy was contagious and I was ready for an adventure.

“I’m down for whatever. Whenever.”

“Really? Great! Meet me at the corner of Maple Street and Silverbrook Avenue in an hour. Bring cash.” And with a quick confirmation from me she hung up, giving me no extra details.

***

I had no idea what to expect but decided not to Google what was on the corner of Maple Street and Silverbrook Avenue, so I would give myself to the experience fully. It would take me a six minute car ride to the old town center or a leisurely twenty-five minute walk close to the water. Since I had nothing to do, I showered and got dressed quickly and went on my way hoping an ATM would materialize itself somewhere on my path.

The weather was a perfect early summer day, so I put on a cream linen long sleeved shirt and pushed the cuffs up my forearms, a pair of casual forest green trousers and brown sneakers. I felt oddly casual being used to a full ( often times three-piece ) suit at work. But it was a comfortable change of pace.

Once I made it to the center, I found an ATM with no problem and took out three hundred dollars. I wasn’t sure what we were signing up for but I figured this should suffice. If not, it wasn’t far. Coming up on the corner we were supposed to meet up on, I noticed I was about fifteen minutes early. Perfect.

I hated being late and last time she surprised me by showing up at The Blue earlier than expected. Even earlier than me. I looked around but saw nothing that would be a hobbyist shop or a place we could take a class. What if the hobby she wanted to share with me today was betting on horse races? Or drug dealing? What else does one need cash for in the 21st century? First calling, now cash. It all started feeling very old-school, which was a pleasant change of pace and brought me back to when that was our norm, when we met.

“Noah!” I heard from behind me. “You’re early!”

“Only a little,” I said as I took in the sight that she was.

She wore a knee length cream and green floral skirt which hugged her full hips with a matching loose cream silk camisole with a delicate lace trim, a brown suede jacket and brown Chelsea boots. Her curls were falling gently on her shoulders pulled back by a tortoise shell clip and silver hoops peeked from behind the curtain they created. Her eyes sparkled as usual and her smile lines were making themselves known when her red cheeks pushed up in a grin. I wasn’t sure if it was just from seeing me or realizing this funny coincidence.

It was so strange we both went for the same color scheme and I was sure that to the outside eye we looked like one of those couples in Korea that meticulously coordinated their outfits. But it looked like we fit together already and the thought pleased me. I hugged her hello gently and warmth bloomed from my center reaching the tips of my fingers and toes.

“Are you ready?” she asked and held out her palm.

“I’m not sure what I should be ready for, but take me there, ma’am!” I said and took her hand in mine. It looked so small in comparison and I could completely envelop it. I wanted to. I was ready to. But I remembered myself and just held her gently.

“Okay, so we’re trying out hobbies, right?” she started and pulled me toward a narrow alleyway. Her face was beaming with excitement but I had to admit, I was pretty sceptical.

“Is your hobby getting stabbed in shady alleys? I’m not sure that’s something I want to try to be honest.”

“Hahaha! No, just trust me! Do you trust me, Noah?” she paused and looked into my eyes. My name still on her lips.

“Always,” I answered truthfully, relishing in her gaze again. She held it for a second longer. She seemed puzzled by my answer, but ultimately her enthusiasm won out.

“Come on then,” she said eventually and continued pulling me by the hand until we landed in front of a very unassuming door with “Let the adventure begin” in scripty font above it and absolutely no other indication of it being a place of business.

She opened the heavy wooden doors and revealed a maze of shelves and stacks on stacks of books. The room felt a little stuffy and small but at the same time there was no way of telling where exactly the shop ended. The twisted corridors were obscured by heavy volumes and none of the, what I assumed were, four walls enclosing us were visible.

The first thing that hit me when we came inside was the warm light from countless lamps haphazardly placed on shelves. They gave the place a welcoming aura reminiscent of the coziness of a hobbit hole on a summer’s evening.

The second one was the nostalgic smell of rough parchment and print ink. I breathed in and couldn’t help but smile. I should have known it was reading she would share with me first. It was one of the few things I could have guessed she loved doing, since I rarely saw her without a book in hand back then. The only time she wouldn’t carry it like it was a comfort blanket was when she helped my mom in the kitchen or when we ate dinners together but even then it felt like she would sometimes rather sneak out to read than listen to my silly stories.

“Hi, darling!” a soft voice sang from behind the counter covered in yellowed tomes .

“Hello, Mrs. Bea!”

“You’re done with your reading already?” she asked surprised, clearly privy to Charlie’s reading habits and visiting schedule. It sounded like she was a regular here. To be honest, she fit right in.

“No, just bringing a friend ‘round,” she said and gestured to me, previously obscured by a tall stack.

“Oh, I didn’t see you there, young man!” she exclaimed, positively surprised, peeking from behind the cashier desk. “Well, any friend of Charlie’s is a friend of mine. Beatrice Dunn. Pleasure to make your acquaintance.”

She reached out her hand directly up towards me. She was small in stature, but it was clear that her spirit far outgrew her frame. I shook her hand and smiled, taking in the novelty of the situation. She was covered in rings, necklaces and shawls of every jewel tone imaginable and her gray hair was piled on top of her head in a bun held together by some kind of magic. Her aura was mysterious but inviting, just like her shop.

“Noah Hunt, ma’am. The pleasure is all mine,” I charmed her a little which earned me a bashful smile from Charlie.

“Oh, what a gentleman!” she laughed and blushed. “Go on, doves. I won’t keep ya. I’m here if ya need anything.”

“So… let me guess. Is it reading that we’re ‘trying’ today? You know I already know how to do that, right?” I nudged her jokingly and followed her footsteps. She was clearly a woman on a mission and I had no desire to disturb her.

“I had to share my biggest love with you first. But it’s not just books. It’s second-hand, well-loved, old-smelling, comments-filled, dog-eared books. The best kind!” she beamed.

“Even still. I’m not really an avid reader.”

“Maybe you haven’t met the right book yet,” she stated flirtatiously, circling back to our relationship conversation from last weekend. “Come,” she said and ducked under a lower part of the ceiling and past bookshelves closely pushed together until we found ourselves in an enclosed corner.

The only way out was the narrow entrance we just squeezed through. I felt like maybe this wasn’t a place we should be allowed in. We were completely surrounded by literature with no rhyme or reason in terms of organization from what I could tell at a first glance.

“Okay, do you still trust me?” she asked and looked in my eyes with giddy anticipation.

I nodded in response, drinking in the shine in her eyes reflecting the tiniest battery operated lamp I now noticed she carried with her from the main part of the store.

“Close your eyes.” I did. “Now, breathe in. Slowly.” I did. “Think of what you most need in life, what’s something your soul is asking for, yearning for. What is your heart telling you?” She rested her palm on my chest, certainly picking up on my heart beating double-time thanks to the physical contact.

I slightly opened one of my eyes in skepticism and smiled.

“You have to give yourself over to the experience, Noah. No peeking,” she said cheesing and ran her soft small hand over my face starting gently over my hair and forehead, barely touching me as she lowered her hand to my eyes to close them and down over the short beard I liked to keep.

“Okay, okay,” I whispered and gave in, still tingling from her touch.

“So, what does your heart desire most? Think about that. Now, give me your hand.”

She ran her palm down my arm from the shoulder to the palm. I didn’t anticipate getting touched by her this much today, but the physical contact was very much welcome. She pulled it up and bent all my fingers but the pointer. I must have looked like a dork with essentially a finger gun, closed eyes and the widest smile my cheeks would allow me.

“What now?” I asked, realizing I couldn’t feel her hands on me anymore.

“Now, you follow your desire,” she said mysteriously and grabbed my shoulders to turn me on my axis. I did a few uncoordinated twirls and was positively lost. “Reach out with your finger now,” I heard from a far corner, not sure exactly what my positioning was, but I went with it.

I trusted Charlie. She wouldn’t steer me wrong. I cautiously stepped forward with my finger extended ready for poking. I met some resistance and palpated what I encountered. I pulled out a paperback without looking at the title or cover and asked Charlie if that was the end of the game.

“Now it’s my turn.” She didn’t need instructions and I enjoyed looking at what was a very fun adventure in the end and I lost myself observing her so much so I forgot to take a peek at what my heart’s desire turned out to be.

“‘Finding My Safe Haven’ by Ally May - part two of a small town romance duology you won’t want to miss!” she read off the book she grabbed. “Wow, that’s interesting. What did you get? What is your soul missing? Hobbies for dummies?” she joked.

“‘Beyond the Deadline’ by Ally May - the first of a small town romance duology you won’t want to miss!” I read stunned and burst out laughing.

How in the world did we pick out two books from the same author and apparently the same series from the complete opposite sides of this little corner filled to the brim with historical fiction, self-help, poetry, fantasy, memoirs, and YA?

“I guess our souls are trying to tell us something,” she laughed lightheartedly and beckoned me to follow her out.

I would usually chuck it up to coincidence, but I seemed to be gathering more and more of those with Char as time went on. Maybe there was something to this whole fate thing. I never used to believe it before, but after randomly meeting in Oceanside, our affinity for being early, this weird outfit situation and now this… The evidence was stacking up. Not to mention the fact that I wanted fate to put us together. And it was always easier to believe something you wanted to be true already.





Chapter Ten


Charlie


“Thanks for the book,” I said to Noah as we were leaving Mrs. Bea’s store.

He picked up the four dollar tab and left a hefty tip in the tip jar when he thought no one was looking. He seemed to have fun in there , not judging solely on his generosity. He was smiling the entire time. It was so nice to see him like that. I had to admit to myself that I had missed him since last week or maybe since fifteen years ago.

I have never brought anyone to Mrs. Bea’s bookshop before. For some reason it felt too intimate, too revealing. I don’t know what pushed me to show the place to Noah, but I didn’t regret my decision.

I wasn’t sure how he would take to the idea of blindly picking a book and the whole “divine inspiration” way of doing so, but he was so open, so trusting. Because of that, I had no hesitations or doubts if my vulnerability would be received well. Bringing him there felt like standing naked in front of him, completely baring my soul to him, sharing one of my biggest loves with him. And at the same time it felt like running straight into a best friend’s arms ready for the sense of comfort and safety to envelop me fully. I blushed at the thought and scolded myself internally for even thinking that about my sister’s ex boyfriend. But that didn’t change the impression he left.

“Where to now?” he asked and reached for the paper bag containing my new old book in my hands. “How gentlemanly,” I thought but didn’t say.

“I’ll lead the way. Do you drink coffee?”

“Every day for the past ten years.”

“How do you take it?” I asked half because I didn’t want to subject him to the crazy sweet caramel drizzle whipped cream coffee-like milkshake I was partial to on the weekends if he wasn’t into it, but also because this was one of those things I missed knowing about him.

One of those everyday things I used to casually pick up just by being around him so much. Back then it obviously wasn’t coffee but other small inconsequential likes and dislikes. Like the fact that he used to eat cereal as an afterschool snack, that he would put milk first and dole out the cereal in two or three batches to preserve their crispiness. Or the fact that he would eat his pop-tarts in a spiral leaving the juicy middle for last. Or that as soon as he came home he would take off his shoes AND socks. Every time. I quietly wondered if he still did any of those things. They were such quintessential Noah-isms back then.

“If it’s good, black. But I do like to add a touch of sweetness or creaminess every now and again,” he explained.

“Yeah, gotta live a little. Add a splash of creamer,” I joked and he gave me a “you got me” shrug back. “Okay, wait here,” I said, grabbing him by the wide, hard, muscly shoulders and planting him in the middle of the sidewalk.

I noticed that I became unusually touchy with him for some reason and made a mental note to get my shit together.

I headed inside one of my favorite coffee and breakfast places.

“Any allergies? Dietary restrictions?” I shouted in the doorway.

He just shook his head and smiled wider. The grin didn’t seem to leave his face the whole day today. And I couldn’t stop staring at it like a little kid. Still looking up to him and hanging onto his every quip and pun. And still enjoying that smile and those caramel eyes.

I walked out of the coffee shop with another, this time significantly heavier, paper bag and two hot cups of coffee. An oat caramel latte for me and an Americano with a splash of milk for Noah. Their beans were out of this world so I knew he wouldn’t need much more than that bit of sweetness. I simply couldn’t help myself and I had to order my usual weekend treat but for Noah, I wanted to pick out a classic, something he could really taste the coffee flavor in. I handed Noah the cup and nodded encouragingly for him to take a sip.

My face must have given away how curious I was of his opinion on my favorite coffee because he just said “And here we have the exhibit of a grown man trying a beverage he had endless times in his life including this very morning,” and took a tiny cautious sip.

His eyes widened and he corrected himself quickly. “Nevermind! This… I haven’t had THIS beverage endless times. What did they put in this?”

I only laughed in return, pleased that he liked it. We talked and sipped coffee languidly as we made our way out of the old town center. I led him to the waterfront and indicated a bench I wanted to rest on. Part two of the best morning ever was coming right up.

“And now? Is this still a part of our consultation?” he asked.

“Of course! Now we open up our picnic,” I said, waving my paper bag I wasn’t willing to let him carry around . “And we read our books.”

I smiled. He seemed to be down for this plan and I started to lay out some napkins I grabbed from the coffee shop and reached into the bag of treasures.

“I hope you’re hungry,” I said as I returned to the paper bag for the fifth time now pulling out food like it was Mary Poppins’.

“Starving,” he said and I couldn’t tell if it was because he really was or because he wanted to people- please me, but I didn’t care because I was people and I was pleased.

Books and food were my favorite things in the world, so I felt like this was a good place to get started on our adventure of trying to infuse a little bit of small everyday pleasures into his life. We couldn’t exactly start with a monthly commitment to senior’s bingo as the first step. Especially with how intense these bingo sessions could get. I figured he would need a lot of easing in before graduating to being hit on or by women in their 70s and 80s. I involuntarily imagined him in the scenario and smiled to myself at the prospect of doing it together someday. Just two friends shouting out combinations of letters and numbers. Seemed mundane, but the image stuck with me anyway.

“So…” I started, ready to recite my favorite menu items off the top of my head and share them with him.

I used to take Lola there almost every week, but with her photography during wedding season and the food boards business taking off now too, we could barely see each other around brunch hour on the weekends. Which I was secretly really happy for because it meant her success, but I would repeatedly complain about it to her. She understood me like no one else, so I could afford being a whiny baby about not seeing her as often sometimes. The cafe was a special place for me though and going back alone never felt right.

Maybe Noah could be my brunch companion sometimes. When he didn’t have to be at work on the weekend. I shook off the brazen thoughts.

“Bagels-wise we have plain with cream cheese and lox, and with the most gorgeous heirloom tomatoes, thinly sliced red onion and a sprinkling of capers and freshly cracked black pepper. To die for! Then we have the breakfast bagel on sesame seed with an egg poached to perfection, salty and crispy prosciutto in place of bacon, a bit of goat’s cheese, which trust me works amazingly in the sandwich and some microgreens. One of my favorites! And of course the everything with avocado, sous-vide chicken breast, the juiciest chicken breast you’ll ever have, chili onion jam and a fresh tomato again. You may think this is a weird combination, but try it, it’s orgasmic,” I advertised and immediately blushed, realizing what I had just said.

“Then we have an almond croissant - super crispy, flaky and filled with buttery marzipan. It melts in the mouth. A cheesecake bite with berry compote and a sea salt caramel brownie square. I’m sorry it’s so much, I couldn’t decide,” I finished in one breath.

“It looks great, Char. But I’m not sure I can eat this much.” My heartbeat accelerated slightly at the nickname. Only Lola called me Char. Lola and now Noah, I guess. I couldn’t fight the smile that the thought brought to my lips.

“Well, I’m not in a hurry. We can hang around here for a while,” my voice filled with hope and a question I wasn’t willing to ask outright.

“Yeah, we can. I’m not in a hurry either,” he responded and handed me my reading.

I grabbed my half of the breakfast bagel and read the dedication on the first page.

“To my safe haven. It’s always been you,” it said. How romantic.

I tried to read a page or two but couldn’t focus much with Noah sitting right next to me, engrossed in his novel and taking small bites of the bagel. He went for the breakfast one first , too. It was the only logical option to me, but I didn’t want to sway him by giving unsolicited suggestions.

I watched his long fingers flip pages and his caramel eyes zeroed in on the words on the paper. When he looked up I pretended to be lost in the book or looking at the stream we sat next to. He did catch me once though and with no judgement or embarrassment the corners of his mouth hiked up and brightened his face. He gave me a wink and indicated I “should” go back to reading.

I had such a nice time with him, it felt like looking down into a book I might as well read at home was a waste of our late morning together. But it also reminded me of how we used to spend our time - me, nose in a book, a lazy spaniel on my lap and a mug of Mrs. Hunt’s famous hot chocolate in hand. Him, somewhere in the same room even if engaged in an entirely different activity. Those were my favorite moments. But it had been much harder to appreciate them and focus on my book with Vicky talking over whatever movie they had been watching or whatever game they had been playing.

I read for a while more, taking small bites of the food and sipping my now cool coffee and then I put the book away.

“Not a fan?” he asked, noticing I'd abandoned my paperback beside me and was just staring at the soothing water carrying leaves and sticks lazily forth.

“Oh, it’s not that,” I caught myself. “Just a little in my head,” I admitted.

“Tell me,” he offered.

He was just there. This was another instance when he just gave me the space to express my feelings, my hurt, my disappointment, my joy, whatever came up. I didn’t remember the last time someone gave me that kind of opportunity. At least not without some eye-rolling or clearly tuning out what I was saying. My heart filled with warmth at Noah’s gesture. No matter how small. And I felt safe to talk to him about whatever was on my mind, knowing he wouldn’t judge me.

“It’s nothing major. Just reminiscing a little about when we were kids. I used to read a lot at your parent’s place.” It felt impossible not to draw parallels even though our current situation was so different.

“Yeah, I remember. We would always see you with a book somewhere in the corner. Never wanted to play,” he said and bumped his shoulder into mine.

Suddenly, I realized that that must have been how he saw me back then. As a kid, with her nose in a book, not wanting to play with him. There was a part of me hoping he’d seen the real me, understood me. But I guess he had no idea how I felt back then. How much I did want to play with them. How much I wanted to be included. How rejected I felt every time they would race upstairs or go to the movies without me. Books were an escape, however welcome, but still an escape from the all-consuming loneliness and abandonment. I had enough of that from my parents.

“Yeah,” I said noncommittally and decided to change the subject.

It was pointless to dwell on the past. I was afraid to taint even more of the good memories by learning about his perspective on them. I didn’t want to hear how great of a time he was having with my sister or how annoying it must have been for him to have me around. It would hurt too much.

“How is yours going?” I feigned excitement.

“You know what… I’m not sure what my heart and soul are trying to tell me, but… I just might listen,” he said mysteriously and raised one of his eyebrows.

“Was there smut?”

“I mean… Maybe some lustful thoughts, hahaha,” he admitted. “But if that’s what my heart and soul are telling me I’m missing… Who am I to argue?”

And we were back. Back to this moment where everything felt fine. Where there was no Vicky to take him away. Where I could be myself.

We spent another few hours nibbling on our food and talking. Not about our childhood but about now, about the day to day. I learned a bit more about his friend Evan and his ever-open heart and revolving door of girlfriends, his yellow Lambo and weekly nights out. I told Noah more about Lola, about some of the businesses she was starting and killing and how she dragged me to try a new activity every chance she got and how she truly was my person. My family. My closest, safest haven.

I wasn’t sure if he understood that since his life seemed so happy and full and his family was so loving. He even followed in his dad’s footsteps in terms of career. That must have meant something, right? The Hunts were nothing like my family. They spent time together, ate meals together, shared highlights of their day. It all felt so perfect and picturesque. And still, whenever he talked about them he would smile and this serenity would come over him. Like a sense of home.

“I don’t see my mom and Victoria all that much,” I admitted. “They’re still in Willow. My mom has more space there to garden and take walks. She’s not doing the best lately so Vicky’s been helping her out with some of the chores and meals sometimes. You know.”

“Yeah, I understand. What has Vicky been up to other than that?”

Of course he wanted to know how his long lost love’s life looked like now. I bet he missed her. Not like they broke up either, they just went to different colleges and didn’t seem to put in as much effort into seeing each other. That’s what she’d told me at least. Well, Ms. Esquire’s life was surely more interesting than mine although I didn’t feel like relaying that to Noah. He could talk to her himself. So I kept my descriptions to a minimum.

“She’s alright. She works for this big law firm closer to home. She’s single too…” I already hated that. Like I was promoting her to Noah. Ugh. “I’m actually visiting them for the 4th of July weekend.“

“You’re going up to Willow?” he asked with barely contained excitement. I confirmed cautiously and waited for the revelation of why that was such a joyous concept to him. “I was actually planning on making the trip myself. For the 4th. Would you maybe… would you wanna drive together?” he asked and scratched his neck in that familiar gesture.

The way his bent arm reaching for the back of his neck made his muscles look made me forget all about Vicky and our childhood and whatever else we talked about. All of a sudden, I was just there. Just a girl admiring the male form. Not in a creepy way. At least I hoped so. But I did need a second before coming back down to earth to actually consider his proposal.

Willow wasn’t that far from Cedar Valley. It usually took me around four or five hours to get there, which wasn’t a very long trip, but Noah’s company sure beat the true crime podcast I was planning on bingeing on the way. Then again, a road trip was a true test of friendship and even me and Lola rarely traveled together for fear of discovering something awful about each other. And Noah and I weren’t nearly as familiarized with each other’s quirks as she and I were. This was dangerous territory. But just like all those times before, his soothing, welcoming energy made me throw away any doubts.

“Yeah, sure. Let’s do it!” I said. Even though I had no idea what I was signing up for.





Chapter Eleven


Noah


Despite Saturday being a day off for most people, I really fell behind by spending the whole afternoon with Charlie. Sunday was full of catching up in the peace of the corporate world “sleeping”, but Monday hit me with full force.

I had a meeting after meeting, negotiation after offer after analysis after hours of market research. I shouldn’t have taken on two mergers in a row, but I couldn’t help myself. I basked in the bosses’ praise and I knew that I was getting closer and closer to the title of Vice President of Corporate Finance. I was already basically doing the VP’s job on a manager salary, which I really had no business complaining about.

I was earning money faster than I could spend it, but I was never the type to throw it at useless luxuries (*cough* Evan’s Lambo *cough*). I lived comfortably and wasn’t hesitant to spend extra cash if I truly believed it was worth it. But growing up with a banker for a dad, saving and investing was something that was drilled into me from a young age. I was gathering a small sum and slowly growing it in an index fund.

The plan was always to meet someone special, spoil her rotten, somehow convince her I’m worthy of her hand, get married and buy us a nice spacious home in the suburbs. I realized I haven’t revisited that dream in a while. Really since my last relationship, which was a spectacular failure and quite a way away from this vision of my future.

I just couldn’t see it. We were comfortable, we got along up until the last little bit, but I never rushed home to see her. I barely laughed with her and the sex was just okay. When we even had it.

She was almost the complete opposite of how I imagined my life to look like. Which I guess was similar to how I grew up. A nice big house, a stable and dependable job that lets us live comfortably and someone to enjoy my time with. Was that so much to ask? It would seem so. But somehow the dream of a wooden cabin-like home with enormous windows and a mountain view has come back to me now and wouldn’t let me go.

Maybe it was the imminent trip to my hometown that brought it on or maybe it was getting older, but the wish to make it happen was only growing stronger. I was staring down the barrel of my thirty-third birthday at the end of the summer after all. I always thought by thirty I’d at least have someone on the horizon I’d like to try to spoil. Some kind of prospect. Some hope. But no such luck.

After meeting Charlie though, I started to have some involuntary thoughts and images of what my future could look like if she was a part of it. And it looked pretty great. To be frank, it was easy to imagine the two of us in a house just like my folks’ since I had already seen here in my folks’ actual house so much when we were younger. I thought that we could live that life.

However, I still didn’t know where I stood with Charlie. We had an amazing time hanging out. This time I was sure of it. She was so excited to show me her favorite places in the old town and was willing to spend hours with me just sitting next to each other, existing in silence, passively participating in each other’s day. And I couldn’t wipe that smile off my face even for a second either.

Okay, maybe only a second when I saw a single strand of hair fall into her eyes over and over again. It got me irrationally angry that I didn’t feel like I could tuck it behind her ear. It felt like crossing a boundary, but I couldn’t figure out why.

We were flirty, comfortable, it seemed like she took every chance to touch me gently, and I was very much interested in pursuing something more than a friendship. But she gave me no definitive indication she’d like to go forward or move faster, so I took my time with my advances as well. If I had it my way I’d probably come up to her apartment that night after drinks. I was enamored with her at that point already. But I was willing to wait, to be patient, to build that trust slowly. I couldn’t risk scaring her off.

***

“Ready for tonight?” I saw the text light up my screen on the Wednesday following our picnic.

I was cutting early today which was very unlike me and Craig was sure to make note of that. Not to mention Evan, who would not let me live this down any time soon.

“Ooooh, seeing your girlfriend again tonight?” he teased when I closed my laptop and started making my way out.

“She’s not my girlfriend and you’re not twelve, so stop saying it like that, man.”

“If she’s not your girlfriend, why are you playing hooky for her?” he pointed out accurately. “Actually, I don’t remember the last time you played hooky for any of your actual girlfriends.”

“I’ve been here for ten hours. It’s hardly playing hooky.”

“Well, maybe for you. But this report is due Friday end of day, so you’re running out of time,” he reminded me. “Nice dodge, by the way.”

Ugh, he sounded more like my superior than my best friend. He was right that the deadline was pretty tight for such an involved report, but I didn’t want to miss the opportunity to see Charlie again.

“I have plenty of time. And I have enough of being managed from Craig, I don’t need you to babysit me too,” I went back to my phone and waved Evan goodbye.

“Ready, excited, slightly terrified!” I texted back to Charlie on my way to the elevator, cheesing from ear to ear, now that I didn’t have to hide my excitement from judgy eyes (Evan).

“Didn’t I say I will show you the world? A little trust, please,” she teased and my heart warmed up by ten degrees. It was getting toasty on this cool summer afternoon.

“It doesn’t fill me with trust when you say ‘not exactly’ as an answer to the question of whether or not we will be eating dinner. It’s not something you can ‘not exactly’ do, Char.”

I laughed at the absurdity of her previous very cryptic messages about tonight’s adventure and realized that I really did trust her and that if her hobby was watching paint dry I’d be down to do it alongside her. Blind trust was not my usual MO, but with Charlie I already felt so at ease and familiar that there was no hesitation on my side.

“Just come hungry. Really hungry!” she replied.

“I’ll be starving as promised. See you at seven?”

“See you at seven!”

I had an hour to get home, shower, change and make it to our meeting spot. The address she sent me this time was almost exactly across the street from the bar we went to two weeks ago. And when I made it there it looked like another non-descript door. This time with a wide window pane and boxy “Italian cuisine” gold decal. It was past the business hours indicated underneath it. I peeked inside and despite it being pitch black, the restaurant looked quaint in the streetlights’ glow. I must have driven past it a million times and never had the urge to stop by. The interior was minimally decorated with raw venetian plaster walls, wooden chairs I could hear the squeaks of just by looking at them, and modest white tablecloths.

I was my usual fifteen minutes early and apparently so was she. I saw her walk towards me and wave her hand when she saw me from a few yards back. She wore loose-fitting jeans and a white oversized T-shirt that said “Seas the Day!” half-tucked into the waist. Her crazy fiery curls were piled on top of her head and tied up with a baby blue scrunchie matching the light wash of her jeans. She had no makeup or jewelry on, which gave her a soft every-day look.

The less dressed up she was, the more I enjoyed it. It felt like she was slowly uncovering layers of herself alongside layers of adornments. But I’d be remiss if I didn’t mention that she still looked like an absolute dream. Which I was quick to remind myself I shouldn’t blurt out to her as my eyes turn into cartoon hearts and my tongue involuntarily escapes my mouth.

To be honest seeing her like this was a refreshing change from what I was used to from some of my girlfriends, who believed I should never see them without all of that on. One of them even woke up earlier than me, put on her “face” and went back to bed next to me pretending that she just woke up. And was sure I wouldn’t notice that. They would sooner let me see them naked-bodied than naked-faced. Which just seemed absurd to me.

“You’re early again!” Charlie laughed.

“And so are you! Pot, kettle!”

“Okay, okay…”

“So, where to, ma’am?” I offered my elbow. “Lead the way.”

She grabbed me and did a ninety-degree turn to walk toward the dark door of the Italian place that was definitely closed.

“Here we are!” she announced, showing all of her teeth, clearly proud of this joke.

“Okay, you got me. That’s funny. Now, come on. Where are we actually going?”

“Right here, really. Look!” she said and knocked on the door with vigor. After no more than a minute, a couple in their 60s came to the door and smiled at her widely.

“Signora Charlie. You come again? You no need us, you an expert !” the lady said with a thick Italian accent and a motherly smile.

“Thank you, nonna. I brought a hungry friend though.”

“A hungry man? Well, quick, come in,” she responded and ushered us inside.

She led us through the dark restaurant back into the kitchen where there were three stainless steel work stations prepped with a variety of ingredients.

“What is this?” I asked, hoping my stomach gurgling wasn’t too loud. The whole place smelled like the freshest basil pesto, San Marzano tomatoes and mozzarella cheese. I was ready to eat. My salivary glands were working overtime.

“This is nonna, which means grandma in Italian. She refuses to be called by any other name so don’t even try. And this is Antonio, or nonno. You can call him by either, I suppose. They are our instructors,” she said and threw an apron at me.

Because of my state of near-starvation and my temporarily lost mind because of Charlie looking stunning tonight, I had a hard time catching it but somehow I did and put it on.

“Instructors?” I asked confused despite tying myself up in an apron, standing in a restaurant kitchen and looking at the equipment and ingredients all around me.

I guess the question might have been more of a plea than a question. I sucked at cooking. I struggled correctly reheating some meals even, so this was not something I was going to excel at. Reading? I got that. I learned that a while ago. And it helped that the book was a little dirty from the start. This, however, I was sure I would fail at.

“Yeah, cooking instructors. Welcome to the second biggest love of my life and hobby. Cooking! And currently, probably thanks to nonna’s food and these classes, I am in my Italian phase,” she stated with her arms open as if to say again “This is a part of me. I’m baring it to you. Please be nice.” I was so glad she felt comfortable enough to start with the heavy hitters and grateful that the biggest love of her life was not rocket surgery. Although, who was I kidding? Cooking was quite close to that for me.

“That sounds… interesting. How did you know I’m a lousy cook?”

“I wasn’t sure until this very moment, but I kind of guessed based on the fact you’re never home to actually do it.”

“Touché.”

It turned out that she signed us up for an intermediate class of Italian classics. Which basically just meant we had to work pretty fast and we would cram as many dishes as we could in the next three-hour period.

We were joined by two more duos in a similar age, but it was clear that unlike us, they were couples. John and Steve were visiting Cedar Valley on the way down from Washington to California and fell in love with the quaintness of this town. And Stacy and Wes who were new to Cedar Valley and newly engaged. Both of the couples were all over each other which was very cute but also slightly painful because all I could hear in my head was “this could be us”.

We started with what was supposed to be the easiest one: pizza. Our dough was already prepared and all we needed to do was form it (“No rolling pins allowed!”) and toss some tomato sauce and mozzarella on top. And it was no easy feat. For me. Charlie’s pizza of course turned out perfectly round, perfectly non-stick and perfectly adorned with sauce and cheese. Mine was called “funny” by nonna and it earned me a scoff from Antonio. I was not living up to the “intermediate” label Charlie decided on when signing us up. And he made it known with one look. Till the end of the class I was “funny-pizza man”, which I guess I deserved.

Because the class was structured in a make-eat-make-eat kind of way we had a few minutes break while everyone finished baking and consuming their creations. I was sweating from the stress of it all and hoped I could blame it on the blazing hot oven.

“Here, you can have some of mine,” Charlie said, sliding half of her pizza onto a plate and handing it to me.

“I’m okay. I got THIS!” I posed with my mess of dough and sauce that looked more like a massive chewed up piece of gum than anything edible, not to mention Italian.

“I think I’ll be doing everyone a favor by quieting down that monster that apparently lives in your stomach,” she teased. I didn’t know I wasn’t the only one hearing it roar.

“You TOLD me to come hungry. And I’m very good at following instructions,” I said and shoved the heavenly pie Char baked into my mouth.

“Clearly!” She pointed to the mess on my plate and burst out laughing. “Seriously though, eat up.”

After we ate and cleaned our work stations (“Must clean! Very important!”), we got started on our entrée. Yes, the pizza was just an appetizer. We were given a choice of fresh pasta or gnocchi and we both went for the latter. Honestly, I think I would have picked whatever Charlie wanted because without her repeating every step at half the speed and troubleshooting every problem I encountered (and there were many) I would have gone home just as hungry as I came.

We started off with the basics for our dough, which turned out to be boiled potatoes, an egg, salt and flour. Charlie’s came together in no time but I needed some help with the potato ricer and the ratios.

“No work it too much,” nonna said when she saw me attempt to knead whatever you wanted to call what I had in front of me. “Soft. It need to be soft like your signora’s bottom,” she said and pointed at Char pinching her admittedly plump and, I assume, soft bottom.

“Oh, nonna. No, we’re not…” Charlie protested.

“I no hear it. Soft like her bottom,” she said and left to assist Stacy and Wes attempting linguine.

“Sorry about that,” she started. I noticed her face and neck were as red as the fresh tomato sauce we just had on her pizza and she wasn’t looking me in the eyes anymore.

I was also blushing because now I couldn’t avoid thinking of her “bottom” and I had enough trouble concentrating as it was.

“I mean, it’s not on you. But I might need some help here.” I showed her my hands covered in a sticky mess. “Maybe you can help me with the consistency?”

“Oh, ‘coz I know what my ‘bottom’ feels like?” she mocked in good faith.

“I mean, yeah. But also because you’ve done this before.”

I tried not to think about how similar to her softness the dough turned out, but I had to admit that we made a pretty good team in the kitchen. She would hand me ingredients and wipe the flour off my face. I would… Well, be clueless and ask for her help every chance I got .

Maybe it wasn’t that we made a good team, but that I desperately needed her support. And I really appreciated it. She had to tell me to stop thanking her because she was having fun too but I felt like a useless idiot coopting her hobby by having her stop everything and help me. She was endlessly patient and gentle with me. And neither the ear to ear smile nor the sparkle in her eyes left her face for even a second. After forming the gnocchi we were tasked with a pesto, but this time as a team. Thank heavens!

“To taste!” nonna would say every now and again whenever someone would ask about any specific quantities of ingredients. “To taste!”

We added our ingredients to the mortar and I was ready with the pestle to pound them out. I mashed the contents with reckless abandon until Char grabbed me by my pestle-wielding hand.

“Easy there, tiger!” she laughed, expecting things to fly. “Gentle. Like this.”

She held my hand and slowly ground the garlic and pine nuts together. If I wasn’t holding onto the stone utensil my hand would be shaking from the effervescent electricity and warmth exuding from her palm. She guided my hand in a lazy back and forth with barely any amount of force and I was following her rhythm with ease. It felt good. It felt intimate. After a few back and forths she looked up at me and dropped my hand.

“See? You know how to do it now,” she said and looked away in embarrassment. I could tell because a blush was flooding my cheeks again as well. Though I could guess it was for a different reason. It wasn’t embarrassment I was battling.





Chapter Twelve


Charlie


“So, how was that for you?” I missed my own subtext at first, but Noah’s silence gave me pause. “Fuck! Hahaha! No. That’s not what I meant. That’s not how I meant it to sound. I meant… Did you like the class?”

I quickly explained, punched him jokingly in the muscled arm and didn’t give my blushed cheeks even a second to fade. It was enough that the image of his strong hands working the gnocchi dough was still stuck in my head.

“Yeah, it was awesome. I never made pizza before. Or gnocchi. Or pesto...”

“Sorry to break this to you, Noah, but you still haven’t,” I teased him, secretly happy I was able to help him so much around the kitchen.

“I guess you’re right,” he admitted between bouts of laughter.

This was one of those things I could go on forever doing. Just give me a basket of farmer’s market goodies and a full spice cabinet and I was a happy camper.

It reminded me so much of that sense of safety and excitement whenever I would help around the kitchen at Noah’s parents’ place. I would volunteer often enough that Mrs. Hunt ended up taking me under her wing and teaching me everything I needed to know. From knife safety, to basic cooking and baking rules, all the way up to her secret ingredients for my favorite foods she made.

And despite learning that her magic hot chocolate that healed all wounds had real milk chocolate in it and that it was stirred with a cinnamon stick, I could never truly recreate it. There really must have been some love poured with a heavy hand as another secret ingredient. I still missed her signature dishes, but the thoughts I cast back were mostly centered around gratitude that she was there to teach me these basics and then some. I owed this passion for culinary arts to her.

It had been a safe space for me when my whole world seemed so hostile and empty and it still was a safe space now. But somehow sharing it with Noah didn’t feel exposing and vulnerable like last time. His attitude and enthusiasm for these “consultations” were really encouraging. And just like his mom, he also made me feel safe.

He offered to walk me to my apartment and I had no desire to cut this evening short. Frankly, I was half tempted to ask him to stay up all night with me to talk, but I knew he needed to be at work early the next day. We ended up giggling, teasing and nudging each other all four blocks to my place. We paused at the base of the stairs up to the building.

“This is it then. How did you like cooking as a hobby?” I asked not only as feedback for my idea but also to keep him near me a little longer.

“You know… Not sure I’ll be able to recreate the experience at home. Not without help at least.” He nudged me this time. “However, I saw they sell ready-made gnocchi and pesto in a jar so maybe that should be my aspiration.”

“To cook an essentially ready-made meal? You can do better than that!”

“I wish that was the case, Char. But hey, I had a great time on our date… I mean, I had a great time with you,” he corrected himself.

I just smiled in response and pretended I didn’t hear that part. Surely he didn’t mean it.

“You’re still down for next week?”

“Yeah. Yes, of course.” He seemed nervous all of a sudden. I hope the slip of the tongue didn’t make him feel awkward. I knew we were just friends even if I wished we lived in a reality where things were different. Like I said before… Last Cooper on Earth.

“I guess this is goodnight then…?”

I sounded unsure. I was unsure.

On one hand, I was desperate to keep talking to him, spend the whole night laughing and teasing, invite him upstairs and make all my fourteen year old fantasies come true (which were mostly having him all to myself to talk to and laugh with without Vicky around). And possibly make my twenty-eight year old fantasies come true too. I couldn’t deny that he appeared in my dreams and my imagination in ways I shouldn’t have been thinking about someone who was only a friend.

But on the other hand, I felt dirty every time we got even remotely close. He used to be my sister’s boyfriend. They were each other’s first loves and how could I then go after him in any capacity. I was disgusted with myself by the sheer thought of it. Who falls for their sister’s ex? Gross.

“I guess it is…?” He had the same uncertainty in his voice but he opened his arms and invited me in. I moved closer and without our bodies touching reached around him. He immediately stepped into the hug and pulled me closer. One of his hands landed between my shoulder blades while the other rested on the small of my back. It was the warmest hug I’ve ever felt which had nothing to do with the temperature outside.

The pressure of his body against mine and the heat between us made something in me get heavier and heavier before settling in my lower stomach. I let my head fall on his shoulder which was the perfect height for it now that he was leaning and I closed my eyes. I melted in his strong arms, so much so I felt my heartbeat calm. I didn’t want to let him go and judging by his unwavering pressure on my back he didn’t want me to leave either.

We must have stood there in complete silence just listening to each other's slow breaths and calm heartbeats for a good few minutes before I caught myself. I shifted a little as a cue that maybe I’ve overstayed my welcome in his arms and he squeezed me slightly before loosening his grip, reading my signal. I looked up at him from the shoulder I was still somewhat resting on and he met my gaze. We were so close I could feel his hot breath on my lips and mine quickened in response. We’ve never been even remotely this close.

Like in a daze, I saw him shut his eyes and plant his lips gently on mine. I panicked internally but on the outside I let my body take over. I reciprocated the gentle peck, drinking in every tiny sensation my million nerve endings buzzed with and we parted.

I knew that realistically it must have taken a second, it must have looked like a quick peck to the outside eye but the milliseconds stretched lazily to let me enjoy every moment of forgetting about the world as he was so close to me. I couldn’t believe what just happened. I couldn’t believe how good it felt having his remarkable mouth on mine. At that moment, I wasn’t sure if I preferred when it teased me verbally or physically but I was certain I needed more.

I moved closer, threw caution to the wind and kissed him this time. Much more intensely. The sensory neurons in my lips weren’t tickled by his anymore. They burned with a desire stowed away for weeks if not years. I kissed him for the Charlie that always wanted to but never could. The Charlie that hoped he never noticed her eyes turn into hearts whenever she would look at him and consequently look away for that very reason. The Charlie who wasn’t concerned about other people and just did what she wanted.

I parted my lips slightly and let the tip of my tongue meet his. His lips were warm and soft and he was fast to follow my lead. He pulled on my waist with one hand and laid the other on the back of my neck gently. I reached for his face now and slid my fingers into his caramel curls. I pulled him closer. Kissed him deeper. I felt the desire building in my center even more, reaching deep between my thighs. I felt it pull me against his hard body, not willing to let go. His kisses felt deliberate yet hungry. He tasted like fresh basil pesto we just ate and I couldn’t get enough of him.

A soft, almost imperceptible groan filled with lust escaped him and brought me back to Earth. I was kissing Noah Hunt. FUCK! I was kissing Noah Hunt - my sister’s ex boyfriend! I blacked back in and pulled away.

“Fuck, I’m sorry,” I said abruptly, whipping my hand to my now slightly swollen and insanely sensitive lips. “I shouldn’t have. Fuck. I’m so sorry.”

I had to leave immediately. I ran for the building door and thankfully it was open. I closed it behind me and ran up the stairs to my apartment. I was such a horrible friend. And a horrible sister. Fuck me.

***

I woke up the next day with a moral hangover the size of Oregon. I was in desperate need of processing and de-stressing, but it was a weekday, so I couldn’t spend a long brunch going over everything with Lola. She had a normal job. And so did I. I didn’t even know if I wanted to go over everything. She would understand, of course, probably even encourage me, tell me that it’s been years since Vicky and Noah dated. But I was too embarrassed to even say it out loud.

Your sister’s boyfriend, Charlie. Shame on you.

I looked at my phone resting on my nightstand and for the first time in two weeks prayed that when I turned over the screen I wouldn’t see a message from Noah. I wasn’t ready to acknowledge what happened and talk about it. I didn’t even know HOW I wanted to talk about it. So, when my screen lit up I was relieved to see no new messages.

I also saw that it was 5:27 a.m. Because Thursdays were my morning practice days, I had to be at work around 7, which meant I could use this extra time to try to let go of all of this. I pulled on my favorite one-piece and a sweat set on top of it and took my bike to the college pool to get some laps in.

I was hoping that it would be quite sparse before six in the morning. The pool was usually open to the students from 5 a.m. to midnight. Some of my most ambitious girls trained extra outside of normal practice and they would use the facilities before their first lecture. But apparently it was my lucky day because it was completely empty.

I left all my stuff in the office, squeezed my full head of hair into a cap and placed the goggles on my eyes. The moment I jumped in I felt like I was in a different world. My favorite world. I watched the sun trickle into the room through the full length windows and dance on the bottom of the pool. The white squiggles moved on the turquoise tiles and I felt like I could breathe again despite being literally underwater.

There was no Noah, no Vicky, no mom and even no Lola. I needed this solitude and the hard work of my muscles for all the stress to fade away. With every stroke of my arm and every flip turn I felt the tension in my body ease. But what people don’t tell you is that when you use swimming as therapy, first of all, it’s not actual therapy so while you may feel better from the somatic stress relief, you still need to process your feelings. And secondly, when you swim as often as me and your form is an automated flex and release of muscles that already know what to do, you end up having a lot of time to think. And ponder. And contemplate. And reminisce. And lastly, you have the space to dream. Dream of a different world, where things aren’t as complicated.

No matter how many laps I swam, I couldn’t escape what had happened last night. Here were my facts:

Noah became a good friend of mine and I enjoyed spending time with him.

Noah was my sister’s ex and her first love.

Noah kissed me last night and maybe more importantly, I kissed him back.

I wanted to keep kissing Noah…

…but! I couldn’t keep kissing Noah because of fact no. 2.



I didn’t think that my sister needed to know what had happened, but I knew that Noah needed to know that it could never happen again. I felt like I betrayed her trust and by the sheer thought of the same lips that kissed my sister kissing me I was covered in gooseflesh.

Thankfully, my self flagellation was interrupted by one of my students. I could have used a distraction from the mess of thoughts now forming into a raging storm in my head, building the pressure, getting ready to pop.

“Morning, Coach Cooper!” I heard when I dipped out for a breath.

“Morning, Lauren!” I responded, hoping my face wasn’t stuck in a constant grimace of disgust I was sporting in the mirror this morning.

“Checking out the water before practice?”

“Haha, I guess so. It’s just as chlorinated as I remembered.” I joked and pushed myself up and out of the pool.

“Don’t let me stop you, Coach. It was nice watching someone who actually knows what they’re doing in there. Maybe every now and again you should jump in with us and show us how it’s done, eh?”

“Thanks, Lauren. But I get a much better vantage point to get on your ass about your form from up there.” I said and pointed to a raised balcony-like structure I used to get a zoomed out view of the lanes. “You can get started on the warm-up. I’ll be back in a second.”

I had fifteen minutes to take a quick shower before practice and get the chlorine and the taste of Noah’s lips off me. And I was already missing both.





Chapter Thirteen


Noah


“Sorry? She said she’s sorry? And that she shouldn’t have… what exactly? Kissed you? Didn’t you kiss her?” Evan was as confused about last night as I was.

“I did. But she definitely kissed me back. And then some.”

I could still feel her soft waist under my fingers. And her freckled neck. I remember the tendrils of her hair tickling my fingers as I pulled her face close to mine. Gosh, I needed to stop losing focus.

What happened before she ran away apologizing was a welcome distraction from these reports but maybe too big of a distraction. I haven’t fumbled the numbers this bad in a while. Not sure if I was glad my boss caught it before I sent it to our biggest client yet because now not only did I have to fix it I would also have to face his wrath later. Craig had a pretty low tolerance for these things. But what didn’t Craig have a low tolerance for? It was enough that I had left early (after only ten hours of work) yesterday and now this.

It felt like I could kiss the promotion goodbye and he would probably let me know about that if the whole process wasn’t so secretive and a way to push their most ambitious managers into even more extreme overworking. Because of that, I had to constantly guess where I stood and put in extra hours just in case it wasn’t on the top.

“When are you gonna see her again?” Evan started just as our boss walked in. Just another day of my dear friend putting his foot in his mouth.

“Mr. White? Is gossiping and kicking your feet at the idea of Mr. Hunt’s private life really more important than the report I was expecting an hour ago?”

“Sorry, sir. It’s almost done,” he cowered in front of Craig which he hated even more than late reports or leaving early.

“I have no use for almost. Get it on my desk,” he said firmly and left our joined office.

I couldn’t forfeit this promotion even if it meant I would be stuck here all day and night. I had a lot to make up for. But Evan wasn’t okay with ending the conversation there. And frankly, I got that because no matter how hard I was trying to focus, Charlie’s lips would somehow land on mine in my imagination. Over and over again.

“So, you’re gonna see her again?” Evan repeated after closing the door behind Craig, making sure that this time we wouldn’t have company for this conversation.

“Obviously, I want to. And we planned on going back to our hometown for 4th of July… But with what happened yesterday, I highly doubt she’ll want to see me again. Especially locked in a car for a nearly five-hour trip.”

“ Riiiiight …” Evan said, with understanding.

I heard the pity in his voice for a second, but it was quickly replaced by an enthusiastic proposal.

“We should go out this weekend. Tomorrow. Right after work. It will do you good to let loose, have a drink, and find someone you could get under so you can get over Charlie. If you know what I mean.”

“Evan, I always know what you mean. Mostly because you always mean sex. And I’m not sure if that’s the answer to this problem. I just need to talk to her.”

“Well, I found that rebound fucking can be really freeing and when you find a good lay, really kinky. I feel like you need kinky.”

“Hhm…” I hummed noncommittally.

I wasn’t interested in going out there and finding someone new, especially if our relationship would be limited to a one-night stand. I couldn’t believe that Evan was doing that on the regular. It felt almost disrespectful. I understood that women as well as men could want something casual and short-term, but the fact that I would most definitely actively think and fantasize about someone else during the act felt insulting to everyone involved. Including the person who I would… Well, who I WAS fantasizing about.

“Let’s get back to work,” I said, as a way to close the topic. This wasn’t productive and it only made me more confused and desperate to hear from her.

***

A week and a half passed since I last saw Charlie and approximately half a second since I last thought about her. I wanted to give her space since she was the one who ran away last time without even saying goodbye, but I had to admit it. I missed her already.

Coming home from work at ungodly hours of the night seemed so much sadder and emptier even though she was never there waiting for me in the first place. Maybe the idea of seeing her, looking forward to some kind of break in my routine and some kind of excitement made the work days pass faster.

Now, instead of days turning into hours turning into minutes and seconds until I see her again, it felt like every moment lasted years and expanded mockingly every time I checked my phone. There were no new messages, no calls, no evidence of the night we’d had other than the few snapshots of her I managed to take in between messing up my pizza and my gnocchi. She radiated out from the dim screen and despite me being stuck in long boring meetings or in spreadsheets and reports the whole week I managed to take a peek here and there and it would all come back to me.

I knew I was done for probably that day at the beach when I had seen that spark in her eyes and couldn’t shake the feeling that I had seen it before. I couldn’t get her out of my mind even after mere minutes of contact. It didn’t help that it brought all of my happiest memories back once I figured out who she was.

But the kiss made it so much worse. I think a part of me was missing her not just since the last time we met, but even earlier. It was a bone-deep longing of a teenage boy who didn’t understand what a crush was but he knew he wanted to be near a girl. I used to interpret every attempt at getting closer to her as a friendly gesture, maybe even brotherly. Only after Oceanside did I realize that looking to my phone for any signal from her was the perfect recreation of my asking my mom every morning if the Cooper girls were coming over that day. However, after Oceanside it was Evan I was trying to convince that it was just an innocent and meaningless curiosity. And he saw right through me. To be fair, he would be a blind idiot if he hadn’t.

I fell so hard and fast my thoughts were preoccupied with craving that contact, that soft gaze, those sparkling eyes, that honest smile, and now those plush lips too. I could honestly say that I had fallen for her. Which made her radio silence all the more painful.

My phone buzzed with a message.

“Noah, darling! Call me when you get a minute? It’s about the 4th of July party,” it read.

I called back immediately, passing it off as urgent business in the hours-long meeting I had no use sitting in, since I was distracted anyway. I was desperate for an excuse to get out of there even for a minute. But keeping appearances and staying in endless boring meetings was unfortunately part of the job description, especially in my circumstances. Craig was observing me keenly since the beginning of the year and I wasn’t letting anything mess this up. Not again. Diving into work instead of my feelings has worked for me thus far, so I might as well get back on the VP track, I figured.

“Hi, mom.”

“Noah, sweetie! Aren’t you at work? I was expecting your call in the late hours of the night!” she said with sincerity and slight concern.

“Yes, mom. I’m at work now. Just taking a short break.”

I heard her gasp, then cover the microphone and whisper something incoherent to who I assumed was my dad.

“What is all this about a party?” I said quietly, closing the office door behind me for fear of being heard having a definitely non-urgent and non-business conversation.

“Well, Ella told me both of her girls are coming back to Willow for the weekend of the fourth and I haven’t seen those cuties in so long. I guess, I see Victoria every now and again when she helps Ella out but Charlotte… I haven’t seen her in years! I couldn’t risk missing them both entirely, so your father and I decided to throw a little neighborhood party and ask them to stay over. It’s been too long. And don’t worry, it’s just a quiet barbecue in the backyard.”

If I knew the Martha Stuart-rivaling level of hosting my mom liked to do, the “quiet barbecue” in the backyard meant at least three days of prep and fifty to sixty people in attendance.

“What do you need?” I asked, just like she raised me to.

“Oh, darling. Always so thoughtful. We both know that a casserole is not your forte and I already got plates and cups to match the decor so… I thought you might take care of even more precious cargo.” She paused, giving me time to scratch my head in confusion and continued. “Well, I heard that Charlotte is in Cedar Valley so I thought maybe you can make sure she makes it?”

“You want me to kidnap Charlie Cooper? Am I getting that right?” I laughed at the prospect.

“Nonsense, darling! I just thought you might offer her a ride. It would be a waste of gas to take two cars since you’ll end up here together anyway. And it might be nice to catch up with her. I can pass on the number I got from Ella.”

“Oh, no need. I have her number,” I blurted out stupidly.

“Is that so? Well, that’s great,” she said innocently. I was hoping she wouldn’t ask any additional questions considering the mental state I was in. The uncertainty of where we stood wasn’t ready for further examination. “So you’ll ask her? If she’d like to go with you?”

“I’m way ahead of you, mom,” I continued volunteering information for no reason.

There was a part of me that wanted to unburden myself to her, ask for advice. After all, she knew Charlie almost as well as I did, but admitting to our dates and the kiss felt like sharing a secret Char trusted me with. And I wasn’t about to break that trust.

“Well, would you look at that! Does that mean that I get to see my favorite boy and my favorite girls this holiday weekend?” she sounded truly excited at the prospect.

“I guess it does.” With that and a few “goodbyes” and “be wells” I hung up.

I was hoping that was true. After last time with Char I wasn’t sure she’d want to see me again and I wasn’t sure she was still up for the road trip. Or the date we had on the calendar for tomorrow. I figured that this was a good enough excuse to pause my giving her space and text her.

“Hey, Char. Are we still on for whatever crazy adventure you want to share with me tomorrow?” I texted after typing and deleting endless versions of the same thing and waited for a response.

I wanted to keep it casual, not acknowledging what had happened in case it spooked her. But I still wanted to see her. And with the questions of what it all meant and why she felt like she needed to apologize looming over me, I felt like it wasn’t a want, it was a need. I was growing more desperate with each passing moment and when the three dots indicating her typing something popped up, my heart stopped for a second in anticipation.

“Hey, Noah. Sorry, I’m super busy this weekend and have to cancel.” I felt the sting of this message deeper than I probably should have. Mostly because I was almost certain she was just trying to avoid me.

“Sure, I understand,” I messaged back, but I couldn’t leave it like this. “How about Willow? I’ll drive.”

There was another week and a half before I was planning on leaving. But I couldn’t wait that long wondering when I’ll see her next.

“Of course. Text me when and where,” I saw in response.

Such a dry, factual, nothing answer. It was so different from the messages I could still see above that we exchanged before the kiss. But I didn’t know if there was anything else I could say or do to make her come back to me, talk it out. I didn’t want to push her. But at least I had a day to look forward to.





Chapter Fourteen


Charlie


The three weeks between seeing Noah last and our 4th of July weekend road trip were spent in agony. It hadn’t been that long since we’d reconnected, but I already felt like I forgot how to function without sharing silly pictures throughout the day, teasing him about our hobby consulting and thinking about him constantly.

To be honest, I still did think about him constantly. But now The Kiss Incident was serving as a mental rubber band snapping every time I felt like I missed him or reached for the phone to call him. Somehow the idea of hearing his voice soothed me. It was a serious mindfuck to want to talk to him about what I was experiencing when he was the very reason for all of it.

When I talked to Lola about the whole thing, she mostly cheered me on. Probably because she knew me better than I was ready to admit and knew that in other circumstances we would both be gushing about him 24/7 and he’d be meeting her right now to get the official best friend stamp of approval. Because that’s how right this had been feeling so far.

But she was also sympathetic to my volcano of emotions regarding his history with my sister and the uncertainty of where it could all go since he was so adamant about not looking for a relationship and I was still trying to hold onto the vision of us being just friends. She couldn’t fully bring herself to tell me to give my sister the middle finger, which I would ordinarily expect from her, because of everything else that got tangled up in this mess in the meantime. And my excitement, or whatever other feelings I couldn’t quite put to words I had towards Noah, weren’t enough to ignore everything else.

All of this was weighing heavily on my shoulders, extra tired from doubling up my pool therapy. I was hoping swimming could ease the stress, but it had minimal effects. I felt stupid avoiding him, but my head was a mess of thoughts fighting each other and I delayed dealing with them as much as I could. Which unfortunately meant the very mature and sophisticated method of problem-solving: lying.

My weekends were emptier than usual and seeing Noah would be a welcome activity if it wasn’t for the fact that every time I thought about him my lips involuntarily pursed and tingled. And following that, my stupid conscience decided to replay the thud of Noah’s childhood bedroom closing behind him and my sister. The whiplash of those two hurt my head.

It didn’t help that I had to coordinate my schedule with Vicky for the 4th of July weekend. The more we kept in touch, the more on guard I felt I needed to be and the stronger the feelings of regret weighed on me. I was so scared of letting anything slip that I would barely say anything to her, even regarding the logistics of the trip. Not that I would ordinarily gush about my life to her, but still. The guilt, shame and embarrassment were eating me up inside. I wasn’t ready to face her judgement. I shuddered at the sheer thought.

***

On the day of our road trip I woke up early and went to the kitchen. I was thankful to myself that I didn’t leave cleaning to the last minute, but the empty counters felt more sterile and cold than tidy and fresh. I reached into the cupboard for a clean mug in hopes that a coffee would breathe some life into me, but I put it away immediately, hearing my stomach gurgle in anxious anticipation.

I didn’t know what to expect. How could I bring up the kiss without bringing it up? How should I apologize and re-establish the boundaries I should have been respecting from the get-go? How could I look into his caramel eyes and not lunge at him lips first? Oh, heavens!

The clock struck seven, which meant I had two hours to get ready and by “get ready" I, of course, meant start packing. While usually it wasn’t something that gave me trouble, this time I couldn’t bring myself to do it. Every attempt ended with me splayed out face down on my bed imagining all the possible (and impossible) scenarios of how this weekend might go. I couldn’t see a way out of my own head.

I was having flashbacks to the Oceanside packing frenzy, but it felt like maybe I was dreading this one even more. At least my beach adventure had potential, it was an unknown, not a sure-fire entrance into awkwardness and secrecy awaiting me on the other side of my front door bearing the names Victoria Cooper and Noah Hunt.

I stared at the empty duffel bag with the Riverstone University logo and all I could think of bringing was enough pairs of undergarments to last me the long weekend plus at least two more in case I shit myself. I have never shit myself and I have never needed to use my in-case-of-emergency-undies on a trip, but I still would rather have them than not. And with anxiety bubbling up in my gut, I wasn’t sure that my twenty-something year streak of not pooping my pants would last.

What else do you pack for a weekend? I grabbed pjs, a few tops, and a pair of shorts. As I rummaged around my dresser drawers for a swimsuit I wasn’t sure I'd need, I saw the cursed two-piece frilly bikini with blue French toile design. I was immediately transported to the Oceanside beach and the sexy stranger that helped me at a time of need. I chucked it into my bag in a subconscious attempt to go back to that moment. The moment when he really was just a gorgeous and kind stranger who got me out of a bind. When I hadn’t known all of these things that were making me feel so awful now.

It felt so surreal to be waiting for that stranger now to pick me up in his, I’m sure, BMW, Audi or Mercedes and drive me to his childhood home. If we didn’t share this twisted history, maybe it could be a fun story to tell the kids.

“Speaking of sexy strangers,” I thought when I heard my buzzing phone and immediately regretted it. It was not my sexy stranger. It was my sister.

“Hi, sis. Friendly reminder - don’t forget to send me your ETA when you leave!”

Ugh. I hated how such an innocent message could contain so much hidden need to control me. I was always going to send her the ETA, but having received that message of a “friendly reminder” I wanted to toss my phone out the window and never contact her again.

Everything she sent over the past few days when coordinating this trip was filled with vitriol in my eyes because I could hear her sweetly innocent voice reciting it out in my head. That woman wouldn’t know “friendly” if it slapped her in the face. Which I guess wouldn’t be a friendly gesture, but that’s neither here nor there.

Ugh, this was going to be a really, really long weekend.

I decided to ignore the message and the budding feelings of resentment and finish packing. I dropped my toiletries in the bag and closed the zipper. And just as I did that and sat down on the couch to wait for Noah, I heard the doorbell ring. I looked at the clock - 8:45. I should have expected this.

“Hi,” I answered through the intercom.

“Your Uber’s here,” Noah sing-songed into the receiver.

“Be there in a sec!” I responded and went to the bedroom to grab my duffel bag and a backpack I had prepared with my latest knitting project, my Kindle in a crocheted protective sleeve and a handful of snacks.

Then, I walked through my whole small apartment checking the outlets, windows and of course every nook and cranny for those dangerous appliances. I made sure I didn’t leave my non-existent iron plugged in, my hair straightener heating up (I haven’t used one since high school) and my induction stove leaking gas on high. Once that was done, I slipped my sneakers on, grabbed my emotional support water bottle and opened the door only to see Noah at the end of the hall.

“Wasn’t sure which one was you.” He pointed at my neighbors doors.

“You didn’t need to come up,” I said, trying to sound casual and not make it awkward at all, but I couldn’t stop thinking about the fact that the last time I saw this man was when I pulled my lips off him and ran away.

“Well, I wanted to help you carry…” he looked at my duffel with surprise in his eyes. “... your bag.” He reached for it and I surrendered only because I needed to find my keys to lock the doors and my hands were full. “Is this all you have?”

I nodded in place of an answer.

“Is there something wrong with it?” I asked, in response to his careful examination of its size and surprise at its weight demonstrated by his bobbing it up and down in the air.

“No, of course not. I guess I just expected something… wheelier?”

“Wheelier?”

“Yeah, I figured your luggage might be a bit bigger. In a suitcase. On wheels.”

“Oh. Is there something I should be bringing? It’s just a long weekend, right?”

“No, yeah. You’re good.”

We were both guarded, unsure and not our usual cheery selves. We went down the stairs in silence feeling the heavy weight of the elephant in the room we were also bringing on this road trip.

When we exited the apartment building, I saw the big, white and seemingly brand new Mercedes occupying the nearest parking space and chuckled to myself. I knew it. He put my duffel bag in the trunk alongside a sleek black one of similar size.

“Do you mind if we make a short stop on the way?” He asked and I raised my hands in response. As if I was being accused of wanting to control him in any way. It was the farthest thing from the truth, but his question was indicative of the eggshells we were both walking on.

“Dealer’s choice,” I tried for a lighthearted tone, encouraging him to be himself as a subtext, desperate to feel the freedom to do the same.

“But you would have said no if I was an actual Uber, right?”

“Of course!” I smacked him on that hard bicep lightly, in a newly-learned reflex, and immediately regretted it.

I was hit by a wave of memories from that night. Those strong arms pulling me closer. Those wide shoulders protecting me and making me feel loose in the knees.

“Please shut up, brain!” I scolded myself internally.

I couldn’t be thinking about that. Not when I was about to be locked in a car with his pheromones enveloping every inch of my skin begging me to do unspeakable things to him on the side of the road. It was at that moment that I realized what I had signed up for and how difficult it might be with all those conflicting thoughts and feelings circling somewhere between my brain, my heart, and my gut.

My “good girl” side was desperate to keep him away, be respectful to my sister even if she didn’t ask for it or maybe even deserve it. But the even deeper part, the part that wasn’t plagued by the need to people -please, the selfish part, was slowly realizing that these past few weeks weren’t meaningless catch-ups between friends. They were a slow cultivation of something real, something that provided me with the space to be myself.

Ever since I saw him in Oceanside and blindly trusted him not only with something silly like tying my bikini strings but also my deep feelings of loneliness and hurt at having to vacation alone. Even if those mostly slipped out uncontrolled, I felt like I could unload my burdens in front of him without really knowing or realizing who he was. And over time, every time we saw each other, that feeling only grew, giving space to the deep friendship we had never had the chance to nurture to turn into more. Into what? I wasn’t quite sure. And if my “good girl” side wasn’t as strongly established I would have wanted to find out.

“Well, you never know. You were so willingly giving up that you’re traveling solo back in Oceanside , I need to make sure it’s not your MO,” he said with that same sweetness and warmth I came to expect from a Hunt.

And yeah, it felt nice to think he wanted me to be safe. That he even thought about that. Even though I was banned from imagining it in any more vivid detail than I already had.

“Well, thank you, sir. Okay, let’s hit the road, huh?” I walked to the passenger side, but he passed me quickly and opened the door with a slight bow.

“Ma’am.”

“Please, ma’am is my mother’s name. Call me miss.”

We both laughed. Why was he still so easy to talk to despite the large cloud ready to rain humiliation and embarrassment still looming over us? I needed to bring it up somehow, but I really didn’t want to ruin the little fun we were having. Maybe we could still ignore it for a bit more.

The car roared awake and we set out toward Willow. However, we did come to a stop after only a few minutes of driving, in front of my favorite coffee shop. The one I introduced to him only a few weeks ago.

“Want anything?” he asked innocently, like it wasn’t a massive deal that he actually liked and wanted to come back to this place. “They got this new lemon loaf that’s to die for.”

“How would you know? Don’t tell me you’ve been back.”

“Oh, as often as I can spare it. You were right, they really do have the best coffee. So, what will it be?”

“I guess I’ll take a latte and… whatever else you think is to die for,” I said, still stunned, realizing that over the past few weeks he’s probably been here more than me. And because of me. He was open to my suggestion. I showed a little bit of myself and my comforts to him and he didn’t look back. He forged excitedly ahead.

He came back a few minutes later with two cups of coffee and a brown paper bag I could only imagine was hiding the real treasure.

“I should send Vicky my ETA,” I said between bites of that actually heavenly lemon loaf trying not to let even a smidgen fall from my lips partially because of the immaculate state of Noah’s car and partially because it would be a real shame to waste any of this deliciousness.

“Would you send it to my mom too? But add a good hour, you know - traffic, bathroom breaks, the lot. Don’t want her to worry,” he said and I didn’t admit I told Vicky a fifty-minute later arrival time for the same reason.

“Sure!” I said and he handed me his phone.

“It’s five-four-one-seven.” he said, realizing it was locked.

“Five-four-one-seven, huh? The Willow house number? Really?”

“You got me.”

It was nice to think that the house in Willow I basically grew up in alongside him and his parents was something he still felt connected to. At least that was what it seemed like. People didn’t choose their phone codes randomly, right?

“And you aren’t scared I’m gonna go through your pictures? Find all of the dick pics you decided were not good enough to send?” the coffee coursing through my veins and my now soothed stomach emboldened me to say. Somehow being nervous made sense back at my apartment but dissipated slowly when I saw those light brown eyes zeroed in on the road. And I got lost in them every time I caught a glimpse.

“Hahaha! No, I’m not in the habit of taking those. And I’m not scared you’ll go through my phone. I trust you.”

“Oh, you really shouldn’t,” I said menacingly without meaning it. We both knew it was an insignificant joke unlike his very significant and honest declaration of trust.

I went straight to his messages and tried to find his mom without reading every other contact and text that lit the screen. I found her pretty easily next to my and Evan’s names.

As I was typing what he was dictating a notification popped up on the top of the screen. A notification from… Tinder.

“You have a new match!” it read.

Followed by another two of the same kind.

I mindlessly swiped them away hoping they would leave my mind as soon as they left the screen I had no business dismissing notifications from. My heart sank a little, but I couldn’t explain why. With the guilt eating me up inside, I didn’t know there was space for any other feelings, but apparently there was. It stung. Was I still deluding myself that there could be something between us? Something real or at least something that could turn into something real one day? But I should have known that a guy like him would have a whole line up of girls at his beck and call. I suddenly started to feel incredibly stupid. I was so focused on my internal battle of the push and pull towards him, I forgot to question if he even had the space for me.

“Should we talk about it?” I found myself saying after I gave him the phone back with the maps app set to our destination.

I hated the idea that I was just one of many girls he probably kissed that week, one of many girls he was pursuing and I felt dumb to have somehow fallen for those caramel eyes and spanking bod. Obviously not just that, but they were big contributors to me losing my better judgement around him. He was much easier to think of as a friend when I wasn’t facing those distractions. I thought that maybe there was a world in which I could get over the fact that he was dating my sister, however awful I felt about that, but this I didn’t think I could handle.

“Sure,” he said lightheartedly, knowing exactly what I meant. I tried not to read it as him thinking about that kiss as much as me. I was done deluding myself.

“I don’t want things to be weird between us,” I started honestly.

“Same,” he said immediately with not much awkwardness.

“I don’t want… that… to ruin our friendship.”

“ Yyyy … same,” he added, this time more hesitantly.

“And I’m sorry again. I don’t know what came over me. I shouldn’t have done that and trust me it will not. happen. again.” I blurted out. I was firm in my words but not my convictions. But that would come with time. At least that’s what I was telling myself. Creating the space we shared took time and closing it would too.

“Okay,” he sounded confused but didn’t inquire further. It told me very clearly that I’d made the right decision.





Chapter Fifteen


Noah


“What the actual fuck? I want it to happen again! Many times! I want more than a friendship! I’ve fallen for you and I can’t get up!” I was screaming on the inside.

I wished I could say that to her, but instead, my parents raised me to be fucking respectful, so I shut my mouth. I wanted to scream or cry or both, so I swerved into the nearest gas station as an excuse.

“You can stay inside if you want,” I said, hoping she would because I needed a minute to take a breath and a pause from not only falling for her more and more every time I saw those sparkling blue eyes but also from the pain of getting absolutely friendzoned.

I didn’t use to believe in friendzones. I thought there was no need to make clear demarcations between who you find fuckable and who you find likeable. I sort of couldn’t imagine not being friends with your partner in the first place, so I couldn’t figure out why that would be such a bad thing.

Well, look at me now. Virtually crying at the phrase “ruining our friendship”.

“Yes, I’d like to ruin our friendship if that meant you’d let me love you, worship you, take care of you, support you in hardships, encourage your hobbies, try new things with you, massage your feet at the end of a long day and raise lil mini-yous with you. Or not. No pressure in terms of kids, of course. But the rest is pretty non-negotiable.” I really wanted to say all of that to Charlie, but instead I opted for getting gas and looking in the distance as the meter ticked away, swallowing my tears.

The worst part of it was that in reality I would actually rather suffer till the end of my life not being with her if it meant I could still be in her life, even just as a friend. And that was exactly what I was planning on doing.

“You want platonic ? I’ll give you platonic,” I thought to myself.

***

“So, whatcha making?” I said in a light tone once we got back on the road, hoping the pain in my voice was gone. She was holding two long and dangerous looking sticks with pointy ends and a ball of fuzzy olive green yarn was nested in her lap.

“A scarf. I don’t know if you remember but I’m not a proficient knitter just yet. Therefore I’m challenging myself with a very complicated design called ‘the long rectangle’. That’s pretty much as far as I went with knitting. I have four scarves already and they’re all completed to varying degrees of success but I can’t seem to get myself out of the rectangle phase. My friend Mabel, who’s teaching me knitting, says it’s okay and that everyone has a rectangle phase and she would never push me to other shapes before I was ready. She did suggest a cardigan made out of rectangles though and I think that might be my new project. Once I finish this scarf of course. Although I’m running out of necks here... Hey, would you like me to knit one for you? I’m not great yet, but they always turn out better when I know I’m knitting for someone spe … cifically .”

“Are you kidding me? I’d love that. And maybe you could teach me the basics too. I’d love to return the favor one day.”

“You want to learn knitting? Like actually?”

“Why not? You seem so enthralled by it. And it’s really cool that you get an end product out of it. Unlike with reading where all you get is, I guess, a great time, knowledge, a wide range of emotional experiences to relate to…? Who would want that? And with cooking, the end product ends up… well, in you. This… This you can keep for a while.”

“Yeah, I wouldn’t recommend consuming this one. I’m pretty sure it would create a blockage." We both laughed.

And with every moment of levity, my heart grew stronger in believing I could be a great friend to her, but also broke a little, knowing this was it and I would have to fall out of love with her somehow if I wanted to keep this up.

We kept talking about various projects and hobbies Char used to do and I was sneaking peeks at her skilled hands passing the yarn loops from one knitting needle (new term for me) to another. She was so focused yet so present in the conversation. It was almost like her hands and eyes were drilling into the small scarf chunk, but her mind had been left to wonder and once she filled it with conversation, she started working even more efficiently. Her first few rows came together beautifully and the piece started to look so cozy and inviting. I had to admit, it also felt great knowing I’d get to keep her creation once she was done. It warmed my heart to think that she wanted to share this with me not just in terms of a fun hobby she was currently exploring but also as a present.

I counted myself lucky. Lucky to be here with her, lucky we reconnected, lucky she was still tolerating me despite my hectic work schedule and lack of interests outside of it. Lucky to know her and exist beside her even just as a friend. I was flip-flopping between appreciating it and hating it. My head was a mess, but there was no world in which I wouldn’t respect her boundary .

***

The few hours spent on the road seemed to have passed in a blink. We had a great time just chatting, sharing work hardships (mostly me), recommending movies to each other (mostly her since I wasn’t following the new releases), laughing like crazy and enjoying each other’s presence. I only realized that time was passing when I looked at Char’s scarf coming together and looking more and more like a piece of clothing with every mile we got closer to Willow.

Eventually we made it to her mom’s place with a few minutes before our corrected ETA. It looked small but well-kempt. You could tell that Ms. Cooper put a lot of effort into that garden and it was splendid. It was teeming with lavender along the paved walkway, echinacea, roses and dahlias all around with pockets of daylilies, lupines and pacific rhododendrons in strategic places turning the front yard into a near-flowershop level of bursting colors and smells. The place looked quaint with the addition of those blossoms.

The black luxury sedan parked in the driveway seemed almost out of place. It must have been Vicky’s.

“This is it,” Charlie said but didn’t make a move to unbuckle her seatbelt or get out of the car. I didn’t know why that was, but I was willing to stay there until she decided to go in. If she’d let me I’d hold her until she was ready or better yet go inside with her, hand in hand. But I was just her friend, so all I actually offered her was companionship. “I guess I should go,” she added after a minute of burning a hole in the house’s windows with her stare.

“We’re not in a hurry,” I said, but it must have tripped some kind of wire in her because she clicked the seatbelt off and opened the door.

“I should probably take my bag out of your trunk,” she said, turning back after taking precisely one step towards the door. Her discomfort was palpable.

I got out of the car and we met at the trunk. I knew that there was no need for her to grab her duffel now, only to bring it to my parent’s house later, but I wanted to give her those few minutes of delay. As we stood there by the unopened trunk she felt so absent, so absorbed by whatever worry or fear plagued her beautiful mind. I hated seeing her like this.

“Oh, I guess you don’t need to take it with you. I can drive it up there. You’re coming over in a minute anyway, right?” I said with hope, gazing down, praying for a second of eye contact so I could reassure her. She was still looking around scattered.

“Oh. Yeah, I’m not sure how long it might take. But we’ll be there for dinner. I believe your mom is cooking a roast. I wouldn’t miss it for the world.” I realized that she smiled for the first time in the past ten minutes and looked at me. “Okay, then. I guess I’ll see you there,” she said and turned around. She took a few steps and ran back almost tackling me to the ground with a footballer’s force and open arms.

“Thank you,” she said, hugging me tightly. I welcomed the embrace and pulled her close, resting my hands on her back. Her head fell on my chest and she squeezed me harder.

“For what?”

“For driving me,” she lied.

We both knew that this hug was about something much bigger, much more important than the drive and I held her close without saying a word. I couldn’t begin to understand what she was walking into to have that kind of reaction, what she must have been feeling, but I didn’t want to impose with questions.

She pulled away with a tiny smile and turned around again. I watched her go inside with slouched shoulders and the remnants of that smile completely gone by the time she reached the doorway. My heart ached seeing her in that state. But I figured she’d tell me if she wanted to talk about it.

In fact, I realized, we had never talked about her family. Her dad, a little. But even that wasn’t something she was willing to go into detail about. She would never bring Victoria or her mom up either. Seeing her demeanor going in I wasn’t surprised but started to wonder how much I’d missed in our conversations and more importantly, in our childhood.

***

I drove off and fifteen minutes later turned into the long driveway up my parent’s place. The house looked magnificent as ever and I knew that unlike at the Coopers, this was a product of a highly skilled and handsomely paid gardener, even though my mom liked to prune the roses herself.

The off-white… let’s be honest… mansion was partially obscured by the tall bigleaf maples lining the allée and made a spectacular impression of almost glowing in the July sun as I came closer. It looked grandiose and I had never really noticed it before. It used to just be a house I lived in, I grew up in, a home. But now, I could see how impressive it looked, how good I’d had it as a kid. It still brought the same sense of peace though. I felt like I could finally breathe some of the stress out and I almost felt my heartbeat slow just by taking in the view and all that it stood for.

“Noah!” I heard the exclamation before I even turned off the engine. My mom ran up to my door and opened it as if she hadn't seen me in years.

She always did give the warmest welcomes. I hugged her small frame and breathed in the smell of home. The house never smelled like my dad’s cigars or whiskey or the barbeque he liked to cook. It always smelled like my mom. Like her vanilla car air fresheners and perfume, her oven constantly occupied by buttery cookies, her cashmere fabric softener, her famous hot chocolate and just… her. She exuded this warmth I didn’t even know I was missing until I felt it once more. Somehow the 78 degrees outside felt cold in comparison to the warmth of her hug. I was a kid once again holding onto her like the rock that she’s always been. It didn’t matter that I towered over her by at least two feet. I was still her little boy and this was still my home.

“And where is my favorite girl?” she added when she pulled away.

“If you mean Charlie, she is helping Vicky and Ms. Cooper with some packing and getting ready I think. She said they’ll be here by dinner.”

“Perfect!”

“I do have her bag though,” I said, reaching for the little duffel in the trunk next to mine.

“Right. Well, I’ve put her in the room downstairs. I think it’s best that Ella gets the garden view. And Vicky’s next to her. In your old bedroom.”

“And where am I?”

“You’ll be with Charlotte downstairs.”

I turned away and into the trunk of my car pretending I was looking for something but really I just wanted to hide the massive grin I had no strength holding back anymore. With Charlie sounded good to me. Even if we were just friends, with Charlie would always sound good to me.

“Well, come on then. The table won’t lay itself!” my mom hurried me and, once again, I realized that I missed being hurried by her.

***

“It’s great to see you, honey!” she said as she sat me down in the kitchen with a tall glass of ice cold lemonade.

“It’s good to be home,” I said looking at my parents sitting across the table.

Just the simple gesture of my dad resting his arm on my mom’s shoulders and the sweet smile she offered him for it made me think of Charlie. What I came home to must have been so different to what she was facing as we spoke. It also made me stupidly miss her, imagining her and me in my folks’ places, realizing that I would have to let go of that vision.

“Well, we missed you, son. How’s work been going?” My dad was quick to dive into catching up.

I relayed some information on my latest projects and how my VP efforts were going, but they could both tell that my heart wasn’t in the story. I couldn’t hide how distracted I was, still reeling from the conversation I’d had with Charlie and her state when I’d driven off. A whisper of regret for not following her into the bungalow or giving any kind of pushback on her friendzone started to form in my heart. A discomfort, almost like an itch that couldn’t be scratched for fear of infection. Offending Charlie, pushing her, making her feel in any way uneasy was such a scary prospect, I strongly preferred to run the other way. No matter how much I ended up hurting for it.

“How about Charlie, darling?” my mom asked, changing the topic. Maybe she sensed my agony.

“What about her, mom?” I asked, trying to feel out what she knew. I wasn’t sure how much of what happened between us Charlie relayed to her mom, who could then relay it to mine. But I couldn’t read much information behind the question. It just seemed like innocent curiosity.

“Well, how is she? Did you talk during the drive at all?” she joked.

It would be impossible and frankly torturous to spend almost five hours next to someone in complete silence. Especially when that someone was your best friend. Especially when you were in love with that someone.

“I think she’s good. From what I know,” I said, not wanting to say too much. But I couldn’t hide the grimace as easily as the information. I was sure I was giving myself away, which was when my mom went for the kill.

“Is she seeing someone?” she blurted out feigning naiveté.

“Amy!” Dad scolded her slightly.

“What is it, Stuart? I’m just curious. Is she?” She looked back at me.

“I don’t think so, mom.”

I hoped that I hid the pain behind that particular statement well.

“But I wish she was seeing me.” I added only in my head. My mom’s expression was unreadable, but she moved on swiftly without additional questions.





Chapter Sixteen


Charlie


“Hi!” I yelled from the entrance.

“Over here!” Vicky yelled back from the side of the house. I walked out of my sneakers so as not to track anything inside.

“Charlie!” my mom exclaimed when she saw me and smiled from ear to ear. She looked like she hadn't been smiling in a while. Her face was pale and gaunt and her under eyes looked darker than I remembered them being.

“Come help me here,” Vicky said in lieu of hello. I came closer and got mom to her feet with her. I didn’t think she’d be so frail and I was under the impression that standing up wasn’t something she had trouble with. I stowed the information away to bring it up later.

Together we helped mom get to the shower, bathed her and put on a dress she picked out of her closet. It hung on her body like a tent but the floral pattern and full skirt distracted from how ill-fitted it was. We put mom back on an armchair in the bedroom and told her to rest as we got all the other stuff prepared.

In the kitchen, where I followed her to , Vicky started rummaging through the cupboards and the fridge pulling out what I assumed were all of the containers we needed to bring with us.

“She doesn’t get up on her own?” I asked unceremoniously. We were past pleasantries and this was serious. I was worried.

“She’s having a bad day. She flared up. She’ll be fine by tomorrow.”

“You didn’t tell me it was this bad.”

“It’s not, okay?!” she said defensively. Mom was under her care now and I wasn’t insinuating she wasn’t doing a good job but it seemed like that was how she read me. “She was gardening earlier, okay? She’s fine. She just needs to rest today, take it a little easier.”

“Okay.” I decided to drop it, hearing Vicky’s tone go from defensive to offensive. I had no way of knowing if mom really was just having a bad day or if she was deteriorating overall, but I had no power here. I couldn’t pull it out of Vicky, especially when she read every question of concern as an attack. So, I decided to trust her. Not that I had much choice.

“So, where’s your car?” she asked, looking out the window.

“I didn’t drive here. I thought you knew,” I responded. I couldn’t tell if she was asking in earnest or if she was teasing me. Did she want me to bring up Noah?

“Well, how did you get here then?” she looked even more confused now and added “Did you fly?” she added in a mocking tone. These questions unnerved me.

“No.. Uhhm, Noah drove me,” I said flustered, remembering their history and questioning if she knew anything because she was so pushy and acted so strange. I didn’t think there was a way for her to know what happened between us, but maybe I was missing something. The only person I told was Lola. And she didn’t even know Vicky. And even if she did, she would never betray my trust like that.

“Noah? How on Earth did that happen?! Did you call him for help? Did your car break down or something?” More of that mocking bitter tone. Like that would be the only possibility in this situation.

“No, actually… We’ve met a few times in Cedar Valley and he just offered.”

“You met ? And he offered ? He offered you a ride?” she exuded shock and awe. It started to really piss me off and hurt me at the same time.

“Yeah, what’s so surprising about that?” I bit back.

“I mean… nothing. I guess he always was a good boy. I bet his mom asked him to help you out. We all know that your salary doesn’t exactly encourage spending hundreds of bucks on gas just for a little weekend away.”

Every word out of her stung, but I wasn’t gonna let it show. I couldn’t give her the satisfaction. My salary was decidedly smaller than hers or Noah’s, but I didn’t want to think of his actions as some kind of charity. Still, the uncertainty seed was planted.

“We’re actually kind of friends,” I stupidly blurted out hoping this would serve as a defense to my bruised ego. I guess Noah really was helping me out, especially when he insisted I didn’t pay for half of the gas. But we were friends, right? He wasn’t just taking pity on me or, I don’t know, hoping he could use me for sex, add me to the roster of girls he had going on… My head was spinning from the confusion.

“Ha! You and Noah Hunt ? Friends? That’s funny,” she mocked. “And what exactly do you do together as friends? Knit? Give me a break. Noah Hunts of this world are not friends with people like you.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Oh, come on. You couldn’t be thinking you’re actually friends. You’re from completely different worlds. Isn’t he an investment banker?” I nodded and swallowed my tears. “And aren’t you a gym teacher?”

“I’m a swimming team coach at a university.”

“Same difference,” she went on twisting the knife I felt in my back now. “He’s a career type. He goes for slim blond long-legged sex godesses. No offense.”

She absolutely did mean offence especially when looking me up and down while saying “slim”. I knew that my body would not be categorized as “slim” in any capacity. I was much closer to Rubenesque than Twiggy-esque, but I had no problems with that. I liked my body. It was strong and capable. It won me swimming awards, it carried me through my life, it let me enjoy the most exquisite foods, prime literature and beautiful orgasms. It was my home. And just because it fit into an XL easier than an XS, didn’t change how wonderful my life has been while occupying it. No matter how many times I said I accepted myself and loved myself, it still stung every time other people implied I shouldn’t.

“Even if he did ‘meet’ you.” she continued with air quotes. “You’re not friends. Trust me.” She must have noticed my grimace because she added “I just want to protect you, sis. So you don’t get hurt later when he inevitably stops hanging out because he’s ‘too busy’ or moves on to someone that fits him more.”

She tapped me on the shoulder feigning support and left me stunned in the kitchen with a tray of brownie bites in her arms.

I resolved to ignore her as much as I could from then on, but her words reverberated in my head. However harsh she may have come off, she had a point. Noah was already a busy guy and he was already on Tinder looking for exactly what she described, surely.

We packed up the car and headed to the Hunts with Vicky’s rollie suitcase, mom’s bag and boxes on boxes of baked goods in tow. The drive was an agonizing fifteen minutes of silence. Enough time for me to start spiraling again and dread this whole weekend stay. We made it with some time to spare before the dinner they planned.

Coming up on the house down the long driveway, my heart started beating faster. Usually, this place had the opposite effect, but I was nervous for reasons I couldn’t yet articulate or understand but felt weighing heavy on my shoulders. I didn’t want to see Noah right now. My head was messy. All I could think of was still how true everything Vicky had said to me was. How I wasn’t Noah’s type, even as a friend. I was the kooky girl who preferred never staying still and swimming, knitting, crocheting, sewing, cooking, baking, roller skating, rock climbing, and bingo-hosting over clubbing, drinking and working 24/7.

A knot in my stomach turned into a rock and weighed me down. A mix of guilt, shame, embarrassment, hope, disappointment, longing and loathing occupied my every thought. I couldn’t get out of my own head and I hated it there.

But somehow that immediately went away when I saw Mrs. Hunt open her door with the biggest smile I’ve seen anyone sport recently.

“My three favorite girls!” she exclaimed and looked at each of us radiating that same kindness I learned to expect from her. She ran up to Vicky first and hugged her briefly with a grin. Then she stepped towards me and I could swear I saw a tear form in her eye.

“Charlotte, darling! It’s been too long!” she held me in her arms tightly and I closed my eyes in the embrace. This felt like coming home so much more than what happened two hours ago when I knocked on our old door. My sister was a viper dressed in concern and my mom was even less present now that her health took most of her energy than when I was a kid and she was never home.

This, however, felt like the long afternoons spent learning to bake alongside Mrs. Hunt, like the cozy winter evenings with hot chocolates and Sparky on my lap, like the air freshener of the van that she would so often pick us up in from school in place of my mom. This felt like someone taking care of you, like someone saying “I got you, it’ll be okay”. I remember needing to hear it back then and rarely getting it. Even now, I could use one of those. I was on the verge of tears right now, but I swallowed them back once again today.

“It has been,” I whispered in the crook of her neck and she squeezed me tighter before letting me go and wiping away one rogue tear which escaped her eyes.

She went to my mom, gave her a quick hug and offered her arm to help her walk inside. I knew that they still met every now and again, when Vicky was here to drive her up or when Mrs. Hunt visited my mom in her garden and helped with her roses. The love these two shared was palpable and reminded me of my friendship with Lola. I could only hope we would be just like this when we were older. Maybe minus the complicated relationship with our children if we ended up having any. It was nice to see my mom able to give someone that much love now, but I still mourned not getting it when I needed it most and it was hard to just let that go and invite her back into my life. The door wasn’t closed, but I was struggling to see it play out between us. My reflections were interrupted by a screech.

“Noah!” Vicky exclaimed and jumped onto him in a hug. He grabbed her by the waist in the air and pulled her small frame closer with ease. My head was too messed up to be looking at all that so I directed my attention to the boxes of cookies in the back seat. I was glad for the distraction and excuse to avoid him too.

“Need some help?” I heard a velvet voice so close behind me I got startled and hit my head on the roof of the car. “Oh shit, sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you,” he chuckled and rubbed my head tenderly to soothe the pain.

“Already giving her a noogie, Noah?” Vicky chimed in a second after and we stepped away from each other bashfully, almost as an instinct. She then bent over to reach for the boxes inside the vehicle clearly poking her ass out at him seductively. “This one’s the heaviest. You should probably take this one, Noah,” she said, ostentatiously staring at his arms in the admittedly pretty tight T-shirt he had on.

Without a comment he picked up the box she handed to him and headed inside trying to avoid the awkwardness that filled the air. In the corner of my eye I saw him look back towards us, but I didn’t dare return the gaze. Like I said, a really, really long weekend was awaiting us all.

We brought over the boxes and the luggage, and naturally, I gravitated towards the kitchen. Once everyone put away their bags and they all got a drink to enjoy on the sprawling patio, only Mrs. Hunt and I were left behind. I was partially hiding from everything out there I wasn’t ready to face. And Mrs. Hunt, without the need for explanation, offered me a seat and a glass of lemonade, and opened a conversation.

“How are you, darling?” she asked. “It’s been too long,” she added again and squeezed my hand. She looked at me with concern.

“I’m good. Yeah, a lot going on. Sorry, I’m a bit distracted. How are you, Mrs. Hunt?” I mumbled, looking around trying to soothe the hurricane of thoughts and feelings swirling inside me.

“Oh, honey. We’re both adults. You can call me Amy.” She gave me a wide warm smile.

“How are you, Amy?” I tried. It felt foreign but sweet.

“Oh, I’m fine. I’ve been thinking about you a lot lately.”

“How come?” I was surprised at the declaration. I was hoping it had nothing to do with what was happening between me and Noah, but I braced myself for impact.

“I heard about the wonderful Riverstone University team qualifying for the next round of state championships. I wanted to send you some congratulations, but I heard I might get to see you here so I wanted to shake your hand in person!” She reached out and I let out a sigh of relief.

“Oh, thank you, but the congratulations are owed to the girls entirely. They’ll be making nationals in no time and I am just a woman on the sidelines.”

“Well, if it wasn’t for their coach they wouldn’t get that far, darling. You deserve this.”

“Thank you, Mrs… I mean, Amy. Thank you, Amy.” A charged silence fell over us. She knew me so well, I was sure she could read all of what I was going through on my face. I was fidgeting and looking about , avoiding her honest eyes. The eyes I looked into on her son. The eyes that were now haunting my dreams.

“So, bug… What’s on your mind? We have some time before we need to sit down to eat,” she started gently and just like Noah’s her words immediately created a safe space to share, to unburden myself, to uncover what I was hiding so fiercely. I looked around one more time to make sure no one was close before I started talking.

“You might think it’s stupid.”

“I’m sure I won’t, honey.”

“Well…” I hesitated. “It feels a little silly for this to occupy my thoughts so much, but I met someone. Someone really special. At least I think so. He’s really smart, super caring and insanely funny…” I trailed off.

“Why the long face then, bug?” Her eyes reflected her motherly concern.

“Where do I start? First of all, he dated my… friend.” I lied. “A while ago. And it feels like I’d be doing wrong by her if I wanted to pursue him.”

“What’s ‘a while ago’? And what does your friend think of all this?”

“Well, it was about fourteen years ago and… we’re not that close anymore. But I do have a suspicion she would feel some type of way about this, if we got together,” I admitted with a heavy heart.

“Is he friends with her, still ?”

“Hmm… I don’t believe so.”

“That does sound complicated. On one hand you’re facing potentially hurting that girl, maybe even ruining that relationship. But on the other … Fourteen years is a long time, hell, that’s half your life, bug. And since you’re not that close… You have to ask yourself if it would be worth it to turn your back on something you think has potential to avoid conflict? Where is he in all this?” she asked matter-of-factly.

“We haven’t really talked about it. I’m afraid to bring up the topic because I don’t even know if he’d be interested in anything more serious than just being friends. It’s far from the only thing that’s stopping me, anyway.”

“Tell me.” She put her reassuring hand on mine again.

“Well, I’m not his… type. I suppose. He tends to go for the pretty kind. The career kind. The more normal kind.”

“Nonsense! How can you say that, honey? You’re the prettiest girl in the whole state! And you have a great career! Are you or are you not leading those girls all the way to nationals? And what even is ‘normal’? It sounds like a code for boring. If that boy cares about any of that more than who you are as a person… Then you should be the one telling him to shove it.”

“Amy!”

“I’m serious. You don’t want someone who thinks of people in such shallow terms. You’re beautiful and smart and caring and fun and you deserve a boy who’s the same. And if what you say is true, he’s none of those things.” It all sounded so simple in her thinking and I had not been able to see that logic before. But she had a point. Although my feelings towards Noah were past the stage of thinking them away with solid logic.

“There’s more… I think he’s seeing other girls. We’re just friends, so it’s okay of course, but… I don’t know if he’d be willing to let that go. And I am not one to share,” I confessed.

“Honey, I hate to say it, but you really should talk to him about that. Give him a chance to explain, make his own choices, even reject you. Don’t reject yourself for him. And who knows, maybe he wants more from you too. Tell him how you feel, take that leap of faith.”

“You gave me a lot to think about,” I admitted. And indeed she did. My head was an even bigger mess unable to hold her logic and my fears there all at once.

Thankfully, dinner time was approaching so instead of falling deeper into the downward spiral, I helped Amy around with some dishes and setting the table. Noah joined us to get some platters from the tallest cupboards, but I did my best to avoid him. Despite my head having more things smoothed over because of Amy, my heart was not ready to make any leaps or approach any conversations. So staying away was still my best bet.

We finished setting up the table and sat down to eat like a family of the most broken sorts. I was playing the role of an immature little brat who didn’t want to be sat next to Noah, so I essentially ran to the farthest seat away. I managed to avoid talking to him for the rest of the evening, listening to various stories from everyone at the table. I tuned out most of it especially when Vicky started talking about her glamorous job through fake complaints. I heard enough of how hard it was to have such prestige, such a big role in the firm, such responsibility, so much money, and such chic clothes that she needed to get dry-cleaned every week. I could hear the faint music of a tiny violin in my ear. Ugh.

After dinner we cleaned up the dishes and I spent another hour talking to Amy. This time it was much less heavy and served as a good distraction. We were lost in discussing recipes for coffee cake when Noah’s head peeked in.

“There you are,” he said with a smile. I wasn’t sure if he was talking to me or his mom, so I ignored it. The strategy has been working for me thus far. “You’ve been awfully quiet,” he added and I realized he was definitely talking to me now. His mom smiled looking between us and excused herself.

“Just tired, I guess,” I said without looking him in the eyes.

“Right,” he sounded resigned but didn’t push. “I guess the dinner ran pretty late and we’ve been on the road for hours.” Just the excuse I was planning on using.

“Yeah,” I confirmed noncommittally and reached for a glass of water.

“I guess I can show you to your room if you want to go to bed. I was thinking of hitting the hay myself,” he offered and smiled gently. He felt a little distant too and I wasn’t sure if it was because I was avoiding him or because of his own reasons.

“Yeah, that would be great,” I said and went to the living room to offer Vicky help with getting mom to bed, but she refused it. Mom was actually feeling much better with the rest she’d gotten since the afternoon. She was almost back to what I knew her as. So, I said goodnight to everyone and followed Noah downstairs. He showed me to the room and pointed across the hall.

“That’s me there. Oh, I left your bag on the bed and you have fresh towels in the Jack & Jill. If you need anything you’ll probably know where to find it, but I’m still just a knock on the door away. Don’t hesitate to… use me, I guess.” He laughed at the flirtatious offer and bent down to kiss me goodnight. His lips found my cheek and I found t he whole thing jarring but oh so welcome. My body took over. I melted under his gaze and I wanted to pull him by those caramel curls down onto me and never let him go. This could have been my leap of faith. But I couldn’t get myself to do it, especially in his childhood home and especially with his ex-girlfriend, who was simultaneously my sister, sitting above us. I haven’t yet figured out if whatever was going on between us was worth fighting for and potentially upsetting her over so I just went to sleep with the impression of his lips still tickling my cheek.

“Goodnight then. Sweet dreams,” he said as he pulled away and closed the door behind him.





Chapter Seventeen


Noah


I lay awake for hours still feeling her soft skin on my lips. At present I couldn’t even remember my plan of being the perfect platonic friend or ponder the reason she was so distant today because I could barely remember my own name. She made me dizzy just by looking into my eyes. It didn’t help that she was at least a foot shorter and always looked up at me with that upturned gaze that made her doe eyes look even more doe-like.

I think we went to bed around 10 so now it must have been maybe 1 or 2 a.m. and I haven’t gotten a lick of sleep. Or of anything else. Fuck, I needed to stop thinking about her.

Right as I scolded myself for once more going back to the memory of the night she kissed me after our date, I saw a sliver of light coming from below the door to the Jack & Jill bathroom we shared. I guess she was awake too. I heard the sink run for a minute and then stop. I knew she wasn’t doing anything she wouldn’t want me to interrupt, so I went to the door and quietly knocked on it.

“Noah? You’re not asleep?” she asked when she opened the door. She was wearing a cute pj set consisting of cotton white shorts with tiny red hearts pattern and a short-sleeve button down with the same design and a big pocket with an embroidered “Charlie” on her chest.

“Couldn’t sleep,” I admitted. “What’s your excuse?”

“Same. Sadly.” She smiled shyly. I could read her tiredness, and maybe something else I couldn’t decipher, on her face. She turned around ready to go back to her room, trying to sleep, probably, but I stopped her.

Every time I saw her in that state, every time I saw even a touch of pain behind her beautiful eyes, a primal desire to protect her and make her feel better awoke in me. I didn’t have a lot of tools in my arsenal, especially since she didn’t seem open to talking through whatever this was, but maybe she would be open to just sitting by until it didn’t feel as heavy anymore.

“Hey, wanna watch some TV together? Sometimes the white noise helps,” I offered. “I promise, no funny business.”

I was hoping that it was okay to joke about these things, that it was okay to joke at all. We’d had a flirty friendship from the start. Well, from the start of this second wave of getting to know each other, I suppose. I didn’t want it to change just because we weren’t going to move to the next step of this relationship. I didn’t want that kiss to ruin anything either. I prayed that that wasn’t what gave her that frown and those sad eyes.

“Sure,” she responded after a second of contemplation and followed me into the guestroom. She picked the side of the bed that didn’t look slept in and settled on top of the comforter. She seemed skittish, distant, nervous almost.

“You can go under the sheets, Char. It’s fine,” I reassured her and reached for the remote. She slid under the covers without saying a word and rested against the tufted headboard. “What are we thinking?” I asked as I opened Netflix.

“Something easy.”

“Like what?”

“Something we’ve both seen.”

So I put “When Harry Met Sally” on and sat next to her carefully. The bed was big enough so that we wouldn’t accidentally touch , but I still wanted to be cautious to not make her uneasy.

Around five minutes in she turned towards me with a comment about something pertaining to the scene playing out in front of us, yet I couldn’t focus on what she said. I couldn’t help but imagine this being our normal weekday night. A classic on the TV, her eyes reflecting Meg Ryan and Billy Crystal and looking into mine waiting for a response to a casual observation she made about a movie we’ve both seen a million times. I could see it all. I wanted it. My very soul craved it.

“You can’t be looking at me like that, Noah,” she said and looked away.

“Like what? How am I looking at you?” I said and paused the movie. “Please don’t take this away too. I need to be looking at you,” I wanted to add.

“Like you used to look at my sister when you were dating.” She looked almost hurt. And why would she say that? A million thoughts rushed through my head.

“Hold on a second. First of all, I guarantee I’ve never looked at Vicky the way I look at you and second of all… dating?” This was brand new information to me and I think I would have noticed dating Victoria Fucking Cooper, so I needed to get to the bottom of this.

“Yeah, dating. Seeing each other. Going out. Hooking up. Whatever you guys called it,” she enumerated, still firm in her words although now a little frustrated. This needed to be cleared. Stat.

“Char. Listen to me. I don’t know where this is coming from, but we have never dated. We were not seeing each other. Or going out and we definitely were not hooking up.” I was dead serious when I said it and that was when it hit her. I was telling the truth.

“What do you mean? But she…” Char started and I could see the cogs in her brain turning. Her face twisted in shock, confusion, frustration and anger. “She would even say that I can’t come out with you because ‘you can’t take your baby sis on a date’...” she continued.

“She said what?” I was equally confused now and starting to get angry too. What in the hell?

“And the cinema?” I shook my head. “And the giggles?”

“Probably biology. Mr. Rogers was a weird dude.”

“And the closed doors?”

“That, I don’t understand myself, to be honest. She always insisted. Claimed it distracted her…? We were just doing homework.”

“But the…” She didn’t finish. With every question answered and every doubt cleared, her face slowly turned from befuddlement into relief.

“Charlie, I don’t know why she would want you to believe that we dated or were together or anything like that, but we were just friends. Friends who could watch PG 13 movies in the theater because they were the same age. Friends who gossiped about classmates and teachers and occasionally laughed at each other’s jokes. Occasionally. Friends who would hang out because their moms were friends.”

“So you never kissed?” she asked shyly.

“No! Absolutely not!”

“Ever wanted to?” she said even quieter now, afraid of the answer.

“No. Not me at least,” I answered honestly, looking for eye contact.

She looked up at me with uncertainty but risked a small smile in response to mine. I couldn’t believe the absurd thoughts Vicky was putting into Char’s head for all those years. But then again, she always had that bitchy streak I learned to ignore with time for my own sanity’s sake. I guess Charlie wasn’t safe from it.

My head flooded with memories of when we were kids, of all of those moments when I used to think Charlie was avoiding us or retreating. I used to chalk it up to her disposition, maybe even her grief, but I never suspected it could have been because Victoria blatantly lied to her, excluded her, and pushed her away. And alongside her, so did I. My heart broke for Charlie and I hated myself for not noticing any of this sooner. How could I have been so blind?

“Wait a second. So when we met again in May… Did you think I used to date your sister then?” I asked, realizing something profound. She nodded. “And is that why you ghosted me for weeks?” She nodded with a crooked, apologetic smile. “And when we went out for drinks you thought you were going out for drinks with your sister’s ex?” She nodded again, staring into the comforter. “And when we went to the bookstore and the picnic…?”

“My sister’s ex.”

“And when we kissed?” I already knew the answer to that question. “Was that why you…” I didn’t finish. I couldn’t even bring myself to relive the moment when she pulled away and apologized.

Apologized !

She must have felt so awful thinking her sister's ex-boyfriend kissed her. And even worse that she kissed her sister’s ex-boyfriend back. I wasn’t just an old friend to her. Without my knowledge, this whole fictitious history fabricated by her sister was hanging over us every time we talked. It hurt that she colored even our good moments, even moments she was miles away for , in her malice. A phantom observer.

Charlie nodded again and looked up. Something clicked for me again.

“So…” I dared. “If I was just Noah, an old friend from Willow, an investment banker, or just a guy you met one day at a beach…” I kept on holding her gaze now. Her blue eyes sparkled again and I realized how much I missed it. “Would you stop then too?” I choked out.

This time she shook her head slowly, still silent.

“And if just Noah, an old friend from Willow, a new friend from Cedar Valley would kiss you now, would you stop him?”

She held my gaze for a full minute before even slower moving her head from left to right in form of permission. I moved closer to her and laid my palm on her cheek. I pulled her to me ever so slightly and planted my closed lips gently on hers. She immediately responded by moving into me and deepening the kiss.

I felt her hand in my hair and mine traveled down her neck, her shoulder and rested on her waist. Her soft lips parted for me in invitation and her tongue caressed my lower lip gently but hungrily. I found myself pulling her up to me until she straddled my lap. My head dug into the tufted headboard when I reached for her lips again and again.

Her skin was soft and warm in my hands and I needed to feel her on me immediately. Both my hands now moved from her waist to her full hips and under the rim of her pajama shirt. My palms slid over her ass and moved back up to the waist now without the barrier of fabric between her heat and my fingers. It indeed was as soft as the gnocchi dough she’d helped me with. Her kisses grew hungrier and more desperate the more I touched her and her back arched when my lips moved slowly from hers down to her neck.

She started hastily unbuttoning her shirt and tugged on mine to remove it. I pulled it up aching immediately at the pause in the contact of my lips and her body.

When she was done unbuttoning her top she halted and looked me in the eyes before uncovering herself fully. As if asking if it was okay. As if asking me to be kind and respectful. As if scared I would be anything but. I looked into her eyes with as much reassurance I could muster but with hunger still definitely dominating my gaze. I tried to soften it for her, but I desperately needed to see her, to feel her, to touch her, to taste her. And I couldn’t hide that.

She smiled slightly and nodded. I moved my hands from my sides where I affixed them in order not to rip any and every piece of clothing off her and brought them to her face, her soft freckled cheeks, her red and swollen lips, her beautiful neck and then lower to her shoulders. I grabbed the fabric and languidly opened her top fully revealing the most beautiful tits I’ve ever seen in my entire life. I had not appreciated them back in Oceanside, but then again I haven’t been blessed to see them in all of their glory.

Now, I had to bite my lip so I wouldn’t devour her in seconds. I wanted to pace myself. She deserved it.

Her breasts were full, fuller than what my hands could reasonably cup and still pretty perky. Her nipples were perfectly round, pink and pointy, begging to be sucked. So I obliged. I kissed her collarbone and followed the freckle constellation down her breast to the peak. I teased it with my tongue a few times before taking it in my mouth and sucking it. She gasped at the sensation and threw her head back. I kissed my way back to her sternum and moved over to the other breast, even more aroused and ready for my lips. I repeated my technique which earned me a soft moan and a tug on my hair. Fuck, I could lick them for hours.

But after a mere few minutes she pulled me back up to her lips and kissed me with gratitude and appreciation in every stroke of her warm tongue on me. I was trying my best to ignore the raging hard-on she was grinding against with every little shift of her weight, but I was afraid I wouldn’t last long if this kept going, so I grabbed her by the waist, pulled her towards me and flipped both of us so that now I was hovering above her as she lied across the bed on her back. She didn’t let her legs fall. Instead, she grabbed me even firmer, pulling my hips onto hers in a hungry manner. I was in trouble.

I didn’t let her rub against me for too long knowing what a spectacular failure it would be on my part if I let her get me off before she got her satisfaction and before I even laid eyes on her naked form. I moved down her body kissing a route from her breasts down her belly until I met the elastic of the shorts. I lowered it by an inch and kissed the newly exposed skin until she laughed in frustration.

“I hate you so much,” escaped her lips between moans and we both laughed.

I relished in teasing her for a bit more before she pushed me away to pull her own clothes off. The shorts came off alongside a red thong I barely even got a glimpse of. She tossed them aside and looked at me with those sparkly doe eyes as a plea. She wasn’t asking me for anything I wasn’t already planning on doing.

I landed between her legs and pushed her knees apart. I was looking at perfection. It was pink and soaking wet with trimmed pubic hair. It was honestly making me crazy already and I haven’t even tasted it.

I kissed my way down her inner thighs until I was very very close but moved away at the last second delaying her pleasure even more. I didn’t care how frustrated she might become with me. I wanted both of us to savor every moment of this experience.

Eventually, I moved to her center where my tongue found her aroused clit and I licked it. Every stroke of my tongue earned me a moan from Char and an arch of her back I was living for. I sucked on her until she whispered “I want you.” We both knew what that meant.

Without asking I darted to the Jack & Jill to fish out a condom from my toiletries bag and put it on. When I came back and hovered over her again to kiss her she grabbed my back and pulled me closer. She toppled us over to our sides and kept kissing me. Her left leg traveled up mine and rested on my hip leaving her completely open to me. My hand slid between us and in the quick gesture of checking how wet she was I accidentally grazed her most sensitive part again earning a frustrated and hungry but quiet moan. I reached for my cock and teased her opening with it. That’s when she dug her heel in my ass pulling me closer and simultaneously pushing me inside her. We both gasped at the sensation. She was so warm and soft and wet. I knew I needed to pace myself if I wanted to last any reasonable amount of time, but she would not let me settle down for even a second.

Her lips came onto mine, but with every thrust she gasped and opened them, overwhelmed with pleasure. It was plainly seen on her face that she was not going to last long either. She pulled me closer with every movement and looked almost angry at how good it felt. Knowing she was close I directed my attention back to her pleasure center and rubbed my finger over her wetness. She moaned three more times before she grabbed my hand with both of hers coming on my dick and my fingers at the same time. My orgasm followed quickly after with only a few more thrusts I was holding back to let her get there first. And after I came, we kissed again and fell side by side on the bed, trying to catch our breaths.

Just as I was regaining a sense of time and space I heard a tiny giggle out of Char. I couldn’t help but laugh with her. All of this felt so ridiculous in the best way.

“This was not supposed to feel this good,” she laughed and I knew exactly what she meant. But I happened to think that this was supposed to feel exactly this good, this right. It felt like puzzle pieces falling into place, some from a long-harbored crush of teenagers not knowing what a crush even was, some from the sense of peace and freedom the other person brought and some from just a few weeks ago when I learned about her favorite bookshop and coffee place and her love of cooking.

Learning every little detail about her was like committing another excerpt of your favorite song to memory without any effort. It was like breathing life-giving air, like a balm on a wound, like a fireplace warming up your body frozen to the bone after a long winter. Knowing Char, loving Char, felt like home.





Chapter Eighteen


Charlie


“Good morning,” I heard as soon as I opened my eyes without fully understanding the circumstances I found myself in.

My limbs were not mine. My nakedness was not mine. We were a tangle of bodies intertwined on the softness of this bed. Despite being glued to another human for the majority of the night, I have never slept better. The Earth-shattering, life-giving, mind-blowing, toe-curling orgasm also might have had something to do with it, but who was I to say? It sounded like a hypothesis I might need to experiment with a few more times before I could make final statements. For science!

But I had to admit that waking up next to Noah, who wanted to kiss my dragon-breath mouth first thing in the morning, just felt right. Of course if you remove the context of both of our families sleeping soundly (hopefully) above us and all of the other concerns I had just yesterday. Was I loud last night? I got so lost in the pleasure from his hands, and lips , and tongue, and oh gosh, that impressively sizeable penis. I might have screamed bloody murder and wouldn’t know any better. Let’s hope that wasn’t the case.

“Morning,” I responded, the raspiness in my voice tripled by the virtue of it being the first thing I uttered that day.

“How did you sleep?” He smiled and buried his face in my neck kissing me again.

“Meh,” I earned a shocked face from him before he realized I was joking. “We should probably…” I trailed off getting confronted by my pjs and a bright red thong strewn about the bedroom.

“Yeah, maybe,” he understood without the need for explanation.

“What’s the time?” I dared ask.

“Around 8,” he responded with a smirk. “Probably enough time to take a shower… twice. Before we have to go up for breakfast.” I was this close to saying yes to the tempting offer, but I figured we should probably take things slowly seeing as literally yesterday he was still getting Tinder matches and I was convinced I had betrayed my sister’s trust by even coming near this man. The confusing thoughts were overtaken by memories of last night, but I would be lying if I said I was completely free of them.

“I’ll take a rain check on that,” I said hoping it wouldn’t put a damper on this continuing later. I got out of bed and pulled Noah’s shirt against my body to cover up as I tiptoed to the bathroom.

“You don’t have to do that,” he shouted behind me when I closed the door. I guess he did see all of me yesterday, but the dim light of “When Harry Met Sally" on the TV was very different from the sun streaming in through the windows in full blast. There was no need for him to see me like that. At least not yet.

However, I took a shower solo and the hot water running down my body was a welcome reminder of Noah’s warm hands trailing over every bit of me. I wasn’t that insecure in bed, but being seen naked for the first time, no matter how many times before that I’d been seen almost naked, was still a vulnerable experience. My muscles ached from hovering above him last night as we were kissing because I was scared to put my full weight on his lap. Though the way he let his hands and tongue explore every inch of me, even the ones I rarely liked to touch, was very reassuring.

I knew I wasn’t his usual type. I’ve done my due diligence of Facebook stalking him. He hadn’t used the page in years, it seemed, but a few ex-girlfriends were still there grinning from old couples’ pictures in what looked like nightclubs or lavish restaurants with their shiny and, most of the time, blond hair, their long legs, flat stomachs and perky tits. Exactly the way Vicky described his type yesterday. That was why it stuck with me so much because I knew she was telling the truth. It wasn’t based on a silly hunch or a general understanding of what corporate bankers that looked like Noah might be into. We both had years of data staring us in the face. I just wished she wouldn’t have used it as an argument for my being a charity case or a random whim before he settled with someone more his speed, more his style. But maybe she was right.

I needed to leave these thoughts in the shower though if I wanted to have any kind of productive day and the time I spent under the artificial rainfall from the bathroom ceiling could insinuate a very different use of the detachable shower head than what I used it for. Which was normal shower purposes.

I tiptoed back out of the Jack & Jill but not before I poked my head through the door to signal to Noah that he could have the bathroom now. That small moment felt so homey and familiar, I relished every moment of it. I could almost see us getting ready for work in the morning together, sharing an ensuite, bumping hips as we brush our teeth by a large marble counter with his and hers sinks on each side. For some reason our imaginary life together looked pretty bougie. Bougie but cozy, just like this house, I guess.

I got dressed, trying desperately to not pay too much attention to how mismatched my bras and panties were and how even with the two extra pairs I brought “just in case” I was not giving a Victoria’s Secret vibe. I wanted to look sexy for him, but all I brought was normal everyday underwear. I wasn’t exactly expecting this trip to turn into a sexcapade. Oh well.

I shrugged and pulled on my shorts and one of my classic slogan t-shirts my mom was so fond of buying for me. They were endlessly cheesy, but I secretly loved them. This one had “Living life in the fast lane” on it and a graphic of a fully decked out swimmer with their arm mid-stroke. It earned me a giggle when I knocked on Noah’s door again.

“Nice!” he added teasingly. But I had a feeling he also secretly loved this level of cheesiness. It felt right up his alley.

The way he devoured me with his eyes fully clothed brought a blush to my cheeks. Last night flashed in my mind, pushing aside the worries I had in the shower. I was transported there again, to Noah’s arms. Nothing else mattered.

In real time, I watched him approach me with primal hunger, but he hesitated before attacking me. Instead, he slowly pulled me closer by the belt loops on my shorts until we collided. He then smoothed his hands over me, resting one of them on my ass and moving the other to my jaw. He kissed me slowly and tenderly, but I could tell how hard it was for him to exercise restraint. I felt how hard it was, to be precise. Every nerve ending fired at my pleasure center at once and I could feel his smile on my lips and I was sure he felt mine. I didn’t stop grinning until we were interrupted.

“Charlie! Noah!” we heard from the direction of the stairs and jumped away from each other. My hand whipped to my swollen lips and anxiety filled my veins.

“Coming!” Noah yelled back and we giggled at the implication. “I wish we were,” he whispered into my ear and lost himself in another kiss.

“We should probably…” I started and he seemed to have caught himself.

“Right. How about you go first?” he said and pointed at his erection pushing against his black gym shorts.

“You need help with that?” I said as I neared the door swaying my hips.

“Char, if you don’t leave right now this will end with us on this floor and I would hate to see carpet burn on that fine ass. I’m looking forward to admiring it later in all its glory so please, please have mercy on me.”

“Fine, fine, I’m going,” I said on a chuckle and my heart warmed at the idea of being admired in my swimsuit later. Or out of it. Suddenly, I was glad it was the French toile set that I brought.

***

I walked up the stairs and into the kitchen where Amy was already causing a commotion. Her citrus juicer buzzed softly in the background as she pressed another orange half onto it, trying not to let the syrupy goodness splash her too much. She looked so chic in her apron and what I was certain was the outfit before the outfit she planned on wearing to the party.

“Morning, Amy,” I said with a wide grin on my face I couldn’t quite hide.

“Morning, bug. You’re looking happy today. How’d ya sleep?” she asked.

“Beautifully,” I admitted and smiled to myself at the memory. “The bed was really comfortable.”

“Happy to hear it, love. And Noah’s snoring didn’t give you trouble?” I shook my head. Would he really be that loud for the sound to travel from his bedroom to mine? I slept so soundly last night even if he was snoring straight into my ear canal (which he might have done) I doubt it would disturb me in the slightest. “Would you be a doll and hand me the other pitcher?”

She already filled out one huge jug with that fresh orange juice and she was not nearly done judging by the pile of the halved fruit sitting beside her. I reached up to the cupboard she usually kept her drinkware in back in the day and I was welcomed by a sister to the pitcher she filled up already. I handed it to her and offered more help. She pointed to the oven and told me to watch the blueberry muffins that were finishing up in there and with every little thing we did we fell deeper into the rhythm of this kitchen, into the comfortable back and forth of handing each other dishes, mixing up batters, scrambling eggs, and harmonizing without words.

Noah appeared in the doorway a few minutes later and my eyes immediately went to his now non-bulging crotch.

“Morning, mom. Morning, Char.” He couldn’t hide his smile and the slight blush that flooded his cheeks when he saw me in the apron. His eyes lit up, but he quickly averted his gaze.

“Hello, darling!” she exclaimed. “Just whom I wanted to see! D’you sleep well too?” he nodded enthusiastically in response and she smiled at him even wider.

“You said you wanted to see me?” he asked after a minute of her grinning at us back and forth in silence.

I wondered what was going on in her head but chucked it up to not seeing us for a while. It must have been pretty weird for her to have us both here, in the same old kitchen, now all grown up. Noah was towering over both of us and I finally reached and even surpassed her height slightly. I remembered needing a stepstool to get a good height when I’d practiced my knife skills under her close supervision or to get some leverage to stir particularly thick batters or doughs.

“Yes! You’re the only one who can reach the platters.” She inclined her head towards the cupboard above the fridge.

“What do you do when I’m not around?”

“Well, I simply don’t host when you’re not around, love,” she said, picking up the platters from him and stepping on her tippy toes to plant a kiss on his cheek. He raised an eyebrow at her in question. “Okay, well. I ask your father. But he’s been babysitting his brisket the whole morning and I’d hate to pull him away.”

We all knew that brisket, despite being a long and slow cooking process, was not particularly demanding. You just sort of had to check it every now and again and that was it. But she didn’t like disturbing Mr. Hunt, or I guess Stewart, as he asked to be called yesterday, following Amy's lead.

We finished breakfast prep chatting casually about the house and what renovations Amy had done in the time I haven’t seen the place. I noticed so many small tweaks that made this house feel so much warmer and I was excited to hear all the details.

The changes in the dining room were what I noticed first. It had always been beautiful, but the early 2000s glamour was now replaced by a tasteful vintage style. The dining room now had crown molding by the twelve-foot ceilings, an ornamental rosette surrounded the crystal chandelier and a soft creamy beige colored the walls. I already admired the moody still life on the wall adorned by an intricate gold frame with floral filigree yesterday. In the living room, she added a brand new but vintage set of armchairs that begged for you to just sink into them with a good book. And of course over time she slowly curated pieces of art that hung on every wall. I found that they gave the house a sophisticated yet homey feel. The floors, instead of cold marble to fit the rich aesthetic, were old wide plank oak stained in chocolatey brown. The rooms were big but not overly so. The walls gave enough breathing room so you wouldn’t feel claustrophobic, but every space of the mansion was in its own little cozy corner straight from a Nancy Myers rom-com. “I could live here,” I thought to myself listening to her estate sale shopping stories.

When we were about to sit down, my head was a mess of seating arrangements. If I sat next to Noah, would we be giving ourselves away? Well, I couldn’t exactly avoid him again because that could raise suspicions too. I think I might have been giving our families too much credit in terms of detective skills though. In the end he sat at the head of the table across from his father and had me and Vicky at his sides.

We dug into the huge spread in front of us and let Stewart explain the complex process of smoking a brisket to us all. I asked for his rub recipe and it earned a raised eyebrow on Noah’s side I was hoping I was the only one to notice. Stewart still wouldn’t give it away, claiming it was a family secret. Amy’s arguments that we were practically family didn’t help much to sway his firm noes . He was a man of few words, but he softened with age. Now, he was at the table joking around, bringing a light tone to the meal and sharing his passions, which was a welcome change from the serious banker I remembered him being.

Some time in the middle of the meal Noah got a phone call and excused himself with a quick “It’s work.”

When he left the table to take it, Vicky started “sympathizing” with him.

“It must be so hard for him to work so much. I would know, I get phone calls at every hour of the night but still. The fact that he needs to work on a holiday? That’s plain cruelty. I bet he never takes time off either.” She started looking pointedly between me and Amy.

“Well, we don’t see him as much as we’d like to, that’s for sure,” Amy conceded. “But he seems happy to be working a lot.”

“Trust me, no one is happy working this much. He’s just keeping face . I’ve been there too before I cut my hours to sixty per week. Now, I only take the high profile clients. It’s something that comes with experience.”

“His work is a cruel mistress, I suppose,” Amy added.

“Mistress? Ha! He has no time for a mistress. His work is his wife and she’s draining him of all his energy. No wonder he’s single. No time for a real relationship,” Vicky kept piling on.

“I’m sure that’s not the case,” Amy hoped. “Char. You should know.”

My back started to sweat and my face started getting hot.

“Sorry?” I asked, hoping I misheard her.

“Noah. Does he have someone back in Cedar Valley? You’re friends, I’m sure he’d tell you about a girl if he was seeing someone,” she clarified.

Right. I was his friend. I wasn’t the girl he was seeing. Not to them. I drank my orange juice in hopes that the ground would swallow me whole. Noah’s dating life was the last thing I wanted to talk about, especially after last night, but lying and claiming I knew nothing felt equally wrong.

“I am really not sure what his relationship status is,” I said truthfully, skirting around the fact that that relationship status might be referring to me these days, at least in part.

Thankfully, he came back after that and I was praying they’d let this go. But hope is for the stupid as it turns out because there was no way Vicky was passing up the opportunity to prove what she said to me yesterday was spot on.

“What did I miss?” he said, reaching for his orange juice.

“We were just talking about your love life, honey,” his mom answered and caused him to choke on the liquid. Once he regained his composure, he managed “What love life, am I right?” and looked around, hoping for some camaraderie but found none.

“So there’s no one back in Cedar Valley you’re seeing, hon?” Amy continued and I was sure my neck was fire-engine red even though I knew his answer.

“I’m seeing a few people, sure. Just nothing serious,” he lied. At least I thought it was a lie. But then again, that wasn’t something we had the chance to discuss explicitly before Amy interrupted us this morning. He had only told me a while ago that he was single, but he could still be single and meet new girls every weekend. He could still be single and look for sexual gratification on the apps. He could still be single and sleep with me, I guess.

I excused myself, wanting to leave the hellscape that this uncertainty was. I couldn’t handle the cognitive dissonance of seeing his phone light up with a new match from Tinder confronted by how sweet, attentive and hungry his love-making was last night, the rift between him stating he’s seeing a few people but looking at me like no one ever has before, the image of ex-girlfriends with Vicky’s warning in the background contrasted with how easy it was to talk to him, to open up to him, to be real with him.

I could no longer ignore all the worries I had. Not when he talked about this so flippantly. I was stuck in the gray area. I felt stupid for letting his gorgeous eyes make me forget everything I stood for and everything I wanted. And I wanted him. All to myself. But did he? Or did he want to add me to the collection? Keep me for fun but at arm’s length in case someone better came along?

I started falling into a new overthinking spiral. I needed to leave before I puked. I already spent enough time staring at myself in the mirror waiting for the redness of my cheeks to fade. I splashed my face with cold water, which soothed it slightly, and braved the outside of the bathroom again.

When I came back, the dining room was half-way cleared and everyone had dispersed. I found Vicky and my mom sitting on the outside patio with lemonades in their hands, talking lively to Stewart, who was tending to his brisket. I found Amy in the kitchen putting things away in her massive fridge and loading the dishwasher with the tableware from breakfast. And Noah was nowhere to be found, but Amy explained that she sent him on a few errands before the party. Something about order pick ups and a grocery store run. I let out a sigh of relief and happily helped her clean up after the first meal. After that, we got cooking for the party tonight.

Not addressing this uncertainty was difficult but still easier than hearing what I didn’t want to hear. So I decided I was glad he was away. I had some time to let my mind ease and my feelings calm down.

They didn’t.





Chapter Nineteen


Noah


“What the fuck, man?” I nearly yelled into the phone. “You installed Tinder ? On my phone?” I was furious.

“I told you that you need to forget about her. If you sleep with someone else, she’ll be a distant memory, trust me.” Evan had zero idea of how I really felt about Char, clearly, if he thought this was the way to resolve this issue. And there was no way I’d lure some innocent girl into this fucked up rebound situation anyway.

“You’re messed up. I keep getting matched. I didn’t even make my profile! Or swipe on anyone!” I couldn’t believe the level of douchiness Evan could fall to sometimes when it came to stuff like this.

“Well, I’ll take my ‘thank you’ at any point, bud,” he responded, still clueless.

“Listen to me, Evan. There is no way in hell I’m using this app, there is no way in hell I’m thanking you for setting it up for me and there is no way in hell I’m sleeping with anyone else. You hear me?”

At that point Evan understood how serious this was for me.

“Shit, man. I’m sorry… I was sure this was just… I didn’t know you actually liked her like that. Really, man, my bad. I was trying to help out and… I’m really sorry.”

I wasn’t ready to forgive him for this, but I had no one else I could talk to comfortably about what happened and how I felt, so I decided to put the betrayal aside for a second. I figured I could be mad at him later.

“Wait a minute!” Evan exclaimed. “What do you mean sleeping with anyone else? Are you sleeping with Charlie?!” The shock was mixed with joy in his voice.

I guess, his idea of getting rebound sex dissipated as soon as he heard there might be something real between us, which was how I knew that all he wanted to achieve with this asinine plan was to make me feel better. In his strange Evan way, he thought he was being a friend.

“I don’t kiss and tell,” I answered.

“Well, you just fucking did, man. Oh my god. What the hell. How was it?”

“I’m not talking to you about how it was!”

“That good, huh? Man…” He saw right through me. “Well, what now?”

“I don’t know. I mean this is all so new we have to pretend there’s nothing going on in front of our families. Which led to me lying that I have multiple girls back at home. You better pray Charlie hasn’t seen any of these stupid notifications. If she has and then heard that I have a roster in Cedar Valley, she might think it’s actually true. And then it’s your ass on the line.”

“Yikes! Sorry again, man. I didn’t know you’re in so deep.” He meant it.

“Yeah. And now I’m picking up flowers and cakes for the party, so I won’t see her until later today. And frankly… I don’t know where we stand. I didn’t get the chance to tell her how I feel, what I want, ask her what she wants… It all happened so fast and we didn’t get a proper minute to be alone. Other than… you know. But not to talk it out.”

“Well, I’m sure the opportunity will present itself.”

“God, man, I hope. With how my mom plans parties, opportunities to sneak out might be scarce. I’m going crazy here. Speaking of… where the hell do they keep Cool Whip at the store? I walked the fridges up and down.”

“Freezer section. Don’t ask how I know that.”

“Wouldn’t dare.”

After I hung up, I deleted that stupid app off my phone without even opening it and headed for the freezers. Four Cool Whip tubs later, I was ready to check out with a full cart. It took me hours to tick everything off the list and I still had cake and flowers to pick up on the way back. With this traffic it looked like I would be getting home only two hours before the party. Cutting it pretty close there. And knowing my mom, there would be lots to do beforehand. And I was right.

As soon as I walked in and handed everything I gathered over to my mom, I was pulled into the prepping frenzy. I ran up and down from the garage and kitchen to the backyard hauling tables, linens, chafing dishes, cups, plates, napkins and literally anything else one might consider needing for a party. And a multitude of things no one would consider as well.

I had eight minutes to shower and put my swimming trunks on before the guests started to arrive. I didn’t even get a chance to say hi to Charlie properly, seeing as she was also elbows deep in some kind of culinary masterpiece my mom employed her for.

So, I ran downstairs, quickly showered and ran back up, hoping I could catch her before I got bombarded with questions from friends and family whom I haven’t seen in a few months or even years. Our eyes met for a second before my mom sent me to answer the ringing doorbell and welcome her guests. I couldn’t read Charlie’s expression and it made me even more desperate to find a pocket of time when we could talk it all over.

Like I imagined, what was supposed to be a quick “Hello, please enjoy the party,” turned into the neighborhood book club ladies hanging on each of my arms, fussing over how much I’ve grown. But I was no one if not the perfect gentleman when it came to entertaining, especially the older generation, so I inevitably found myself surrounded by a mob of my parent’s peers telling them all about my job.

Ugh, always this job bullshit . Don’t get me wrong, I liked my job. I just longed for my conversations to revolve around something else. For once.

My lack of hobbies was really showing here since half of the people around me were retired or on the way to retirement and their days consisted exclusively of hobbies. Book club, water aerobics club, knitting club, cinephile club, gardening club, nordic walking club… The list was endless.

And there I was, sitting on the outdoor lounge set, surrounded by people living their lives to the fullest and twice my age. All of a sudden, the hours I put into becoming the best corporate and investment banker Cedar Valley has ever seen felt empty and sad. I was at the peak of my career, but I was also at the peak of my physical and mental abilities and I wasted it stuck in a tall office building sitting in on ceaseless negotiations and meetings I wasn’t sure I cared that much about.

Just like when I first met Charlie after our run-in on vacation I was enthralled by the multitude of interests, stories and experiences surrounding me. I got lost in the book and movie recs, the arguments on the best non-toxic fertilizers, the exchanged recipes and photos of children and even grandchildren sporting knitted sweaters made by the hands of the women sitting beside me. They beamed at every story someone shared and it reminded me of the sparkle that ignited in Charlie’s eyes every time she would concoct a mischievous plan of getting me to try something new. Her little devilish side made her all the more angelic.

And I missed her. I was probably a few yards away from her, but I missed her. I wanted her on my arm or on my lap. I wanted her to be a part of these conversations. I wanted her to soak it in as much as I have been and share her stories I was hoping might be ours one day.

But she was nowhere to be found. I caught a glimpse of her here and there when she ran across the house, acting like the hostess my mom trained her to be, but it wasn’t enough. I couldn’t seek her out openly. Not with the tension of this morning hanging in the air.

So, I focused on chatting everyone up instead. I answered the door every other time it rang and tried to spend at least a few meaningful minutes with everyone. I’d say the group was pretty varied with about sixty percent of the guests being my parents' age and the rest were folks closer to me in years with a few kids running around here and there, pulling on their parents’ sleeves to let them go into the currently empty pool.

After the tenth time I saw a kid looking longingly into that water, I suggested jumping in to everyone around me, but I had no takers. No one wanted to be the first one in. The parents were engaged in lively conversations and didn’t let their kids swim without them. Which was reasonable, honestly. But it left me with minimal choice for getting the pool part of the pool party started.

I almost forgot Vicky was there, even though her bright gold bikini was blinding in the sun underneath an open shirt-dress she let fall off one of her shoulders. She was objectively attractive if you were into that kind of type, I suppose. Long black shiny hair, smooth skin, slim figure. But there was nothing special about her, nothing distinct. She had one of those faces you could admire for one second and forget the next.

She pulled her friend, whose name I must have learned at some point of the afternoon, towards the pool and they both took off their swimsuit covers and left them on the nearby lounger . I took off my T-shirt too and jumped in behind them. The water was perfect and I could get lost in that feeling of hiding under its surface again, but I was committed to being a good co-host at the party, so I emerged and pushed my curls out of my face.

I chatted with Vicky and Stephanie (I learned) but still kept an eye out for Charlie. I tried some lighthearted topics which were met with disproportionately theatrical responses. I was certain the shrill of their laughter would reverberate in my head until at least I had a beer. And boy did I feel like I needed one to get through these conversations.

“Noah,” I was pulled back from my absent-minded search for Charlie I apparently engaged in during a lull in the conversation. “Maybe you could take a look?” Victoria suggested.

“Take a look?” I repeated confused.

“Yeah, it seems I got something stuck in my eye and Vic can’t see it.” Stephanie rapid-blinked at me and came closer. I reluctantly looked into the eye she indicated with a long-nailed finger, though I found nothing of note there, other than the intensity I couldn’t have anticipated.

“I can’t see anything in there either.” The way she was looking up at me felt oddly invasive and so did her effort of inching toward me.

“Are you sure?” her high voice cut through the air as she placed her palms on my shoulders and stepped on her tippy-toes, trying to get even closer.

“Yup, sorry,” I took a step back, still feeling the weight of her stare boring into my skull through my own eyes, but my shoulders were free from her manicured claws. “Actually, I should go. I have to… Uhm… You guys enjoy yourselves,” I excused myself to find Charlie whose whereabouts started to concern me as time went on. I didn’t want her to miss the party and I was happy to use her as an excuse to miss the continuation of whatever the hell I’d just gone through.

I walked out of the pool and dried off with a towel from a basket my mom had me station all over the place. The backyard, despite occupying a fair amount of land, was crowded and I couldn’t see her fiery red curls anywhere outside.

I went inside, checking the common areas first. Nothing in the kitchen, dining room, or living room. Nothing in the guest bathroom. She wasn’t even downstairs in either of our rooms. I dared to go upstairs to my old bedroom, but she wasn’t there either. Well, there were two options left. She was either completely gone or in the main guest room with the view of the back garden. I knocked on the door gently and heard a faint “Hi,” from behind.

“Char? I thought I lost you.”

She looked gorgeous. The strings of her bikini poked out from under a simple white T-shirt dress. Her skin was sunkissed and flushed. It transported me right back to May in Oceanside.

But her eyes. As she was looking out the window, her eyes lacked that sparkle and looked so sad. Just like last night. It was a stark contrast to how she woke up. Was all of this weighing on her that much? Was it the party? Was it her family? Was it mine? Oh god, was it me?

This didn’t seem like the right time to be clarifying this morning’s fib and asking the big Defining The Relationship questions. “Are you hiding from me?”

“No,” she chuckled, but I wasn’t sure she meant it. I didn’t want to push.

“You okay, Char?” I grabbed her arm gently, hoping the touch would soothe her and get her back to Earth, to me.

“Yeah, of course.” She shook her head as if shaking off the last of a pesky thought and went on. “Hey, we should go back to the party. Wouldn’t wanna miss anything, right? I heard the food is banging,” she joked seeing as she prepared probably more than half of it.

“Is that so?” I laughed. “Must be all the groceries someone brought. Top quality. So I’ve heard, of course.”

We giggled on our way down to the party and joined everyone there. She was still somewhat distant but pretended well. I stored it to talk about later once we got a moment alone again, on her terms.

When we came closer to the pool, Vicky noticed Charlie and me and said “Come on in, Char. The water’s amazing! Don’t be shy,” which rubbed me the wrong way. Whether Charlie wanted to go into the pool or not was obviously her choice, but I was pretty sure shyness wasn’t a part of the equation. At least I hoped so.

Somehow, whatever Vicky said these days sounded like a dig . Her bitter nature really came out more and more with age. Although insinuating that we were dating back in the day was already pretty fucking bold. Not that I felt like I could say that to her face though. I had a feeling it might cause a scene with the flair for drama Vicky had and even my feelings were intense enough that keeping calm would be a real challenge. So, I smiled and pretended that everything was okay. Not to mention, I couldn’t risk saying something that would give Charlie and me away. I could sense that she wanted to keep what happened between us on the down low. This was the safest option.

“Maybe later,” Charlie dismissed her, but I saw the comment get to her too. I wanted to help, to somehow get Vicky to cut her bullshit and apologize. But I wasn’t one for confrontation and it felt like not quite my fight, so I just offered Char to explore the buffet together.

“You look fine, Char. You don’t have to hide,” Vicky added quieter and with even more vitriol dressed as support. My blood was boiling, but Charlie just walked away so I followed her instead of blowing up on the spot. The tension between them was worse than I suspected when I’d seen her hesitate going back home. I opened my mouth to offer Charlie any kind of reassurance or indication that I was there for her, in whatever capacity she needed me, but I was interrupted.

“Darling, your phone keeps buzzing,” said my mom with the device in her extended hand. “It might be important. From work.” I rolled my eyes on the inside and grabbed it.

How could there be anything important happening at a fucking bank on a 4th of July afternoon? I turned to Charlie to express my frustration when the phone started ringing again. The only thing I could offer her was a sorry look as I picked up the call and headed into the house. I closed the sliding doors behind me and heard Craig on the other side.

“Hello, boss. What can I do for you?” I hated how servantly I sounded.

“Actually, son. I’m not calling to ask you for anything. Quite the opposite. Do you have a minute?”

“Sure.” I tried not to sound bitter, but I wasn’t sure there was an opposite to Craig asking me for something and if there was I wasn’t sure I wanted to know what it looked like.

From where I stood, I could see Char meandering about, her frown fading slowly as she was getting a glass of pink lemonade. She then chatted up some of the book club ladies and was attacked by a three-year-old girl running at full speed toward her for a hug. I was pretty sure she was a stranger, which was confirmed when the girl’s parents ran after her and offered smiles, apologies and their hands in introduction. I couldn’t help but grin at that view. And I couldn’t help but relate to that kid. I also wanted to run toward Charlie at full speed and entrap her in an embrace she couldn’t get out of.

Wow, I was jealous of a kindergartener because they got to hug someone. This felt like a new low. Or high. I’ve never felt this way about anyone before and it felt great.

“I wanted to express how much Cedrinum appreciates your hard work. Your willingness to put in the hours and really commit to this job doesn’t go unnoticed. Your availability and drive to get things done is something we value a lot. Especially over the last few months, you’ve been really dedicated to your clients with only a few minor hiccups we’re willing to let slide.” I didn’t like the way he used “we” to talk about the execs. And how he held my mistakes over my head. It reeked of inauthenticity and self-righteousness. “With that being said, we wanted to extend you an offer we’re sure you’ll find irresistable. How would you like to become the Vice President of Corporate Banking at Cedrinum Financial Services?”

There it was.

Have you ever experienced this? That moment when you feel like you’re about to die and your whole life flashes before your eyes? The adrenaline of being offered the position I worked so long and so hard for brought on similar feelings.

But instead of my life, my work, the projects I spent weeks on, all I could see was Charlie.

From that very first moment we reconnected back in May. Her soft back as I tied her rogue swimsuit she was wearing right now again. Her wide smile pushing up her freckled cheeks and narrowing her bright sparkling eyes when she recognized me, after giving me a hard time for that stupid question. Even the tears she swallowed when talking about her dad that first time. The fizzy, tingly, soda-pop feeling I would get on my skin every time we brushed up against each other. The trust I felt for her when she pulled me into a dark alley and subsequently a dark corner of Mrs. Bea’s bookstore and asked for my heart’s desire. The way her face lit up when she watched me have an orgasmic experience with a coffee I couldn’t go a week without now. The way she blushed when nonna asked me to make the gnocchi dough the same softness as her luscious body. That first kiss I dared to lay on her lips and the one following it. Last night. The way every little detail I learned about her felt like coming home.

The way I loved her before I knew I could love anyone that strongly. The way every moment with her, even the harder ones, even the ones other people may find awkward, every moment with her was easy and fun. The way she fit into my life, into my family, into my heart. The way she already felt like she was mine.

At that moment I realized that this wasn’t something I was willing to let go of. And I wasn’t sure I could have both.





Chapter Twenty


Charlie


I righted some of the food displays and swallowed my feelings for the umpteenth time this weekend. It would have been enough to hear him talk about how important his work was to the book club ladies, knowing nothing would ever compare. It would have been enough to see Stephanie getting cozy with Noah, fluttering her fake eyelashes and whipping her long blond hair, with him clearly flirting and laughing with her and pushing his hair out of his face seductively and looking deep into her eyes. It would have even been enough to be reminded of the matches I was sure he was gathering as we stood there, of all the girls he was seeing back at home “not seriously”. But then my sister had to be an absolute bitch on top of that too? Passing it off as concern and encouragement.

“She can fucking shove it,” I thought as I shoved another appetizer into my pie hole. I knew that food wasn’t an answer, but I was hard pressed for any other coping mechanism nearby. Swimming out my frustrations wasn’t an option in the pool filled with a bunch of people of all ages now, splashing, laughing, and throwing a blow-up ball. Talking to a friend… Well, Lola was off-grid, celebrating with her family and I had no way of reaching out and Noah… Noah was a goddamn workaholic whose job called him on a holiday. And he picked up.

“Did you try these?” I asked him when he came back out and pointed at bacon wrapped dates with goat cheese stuffing. He shook his head in reply, looking distracted. “They’re pretty good.” This was probably the highest praise I could muster up for my own cooking, but I really was happy with how the saltiness of the bacon played with the sweetness of the date and creamy, funky note of the cheese. And I was strapped for a distraction from all those tears bubbling up inside me too. I have been falling into a downward spiral since this morning and I was barely holding it together.

“Noah, come join us!” I heard Stephanie yell from the near side of the pool. He looked at her, waved and smiled but said nothing. I didn’t want to watch this play out. Vicky was right. This was never gonna work out. My head was already a jumble of thoughts, but this felt like a tipping point.

“Excuse me,” I muttered before he could say anything and pushed between groups to hide inside. My usual spot, which was currently my mother’s temporary bedroom, was compromised, so I bolted to the downstairs room I was staying in.

I couldn’t hold back the tears even if I didn’t understand them. How could I have been so invested in something so new, so fresh? How could I have jumped in without any consideration for what I actually wanted, what I deserved?

He was very clear about his situation from the very start. There were no lies, no deception. He wasn’t my boyfriend, he wasn’t betraying me by flirting with Stephanie or perusing Tinder, he wasn’t casting me aside when he picked up a work call. He was just living his life and I was the one who assigned all this meaning to it because I wanted him too much. I was the one who was hurting myself in this situation. I was the one who couldn’t just be friends with him, even friends with benefits.

But realizing that didn’t help either. My head was still a tangled-up mess, spiraling more and more since breakfast, trying to keep busy to avoid having the space to freak out even more. My heart was still broken from the stark contrast of having Noah so close to me last night and feeling this insurmountable rift between us now. I needed time away from all of this. Away from Noah.

Falling for him over the past few weeks felt like finding pieces of myself I thought lost despite how fucked up I felt because of incorrectly assuming my sister was telling the truth. This felt like seeing the 10,000-piece puzzle you worked really hard on scrambled again in an instant and not being able to do anything about it.

And I was the only one to blame for it.

For believing I could have a guy like him all to myself. That somehow, magically, he would let go of his constant need to work and make time for me, that he would stop seeing anyone else after one heavily-apologized-for kiss, that he would change his type. I was astounded by my own levels of delusion.

I heard a soft rapping on my doors, so I pulled myself to sit and wiped my eyes before saying anything.

“Hey, can I talk to you for a second?” I heard Noah’s soft voice say before he opened the door.

I was sad and ashamed and I wasn’t ready to talk to him, but I thought it might be easier to rip the band aid off and move on. And he still had the chance to get Stephanie’s number before the party ended, if that hadn’t happened yet. Maybe she could give him the casual arrangement I wasn’t capable of. Or maybe she was the kind of girl he was holding out for. Keeping everyone else at arm’s length. Suddenly, I was glad I hadn’t taken that leap of faith last night and told him how I really felt. I was glad we just slept together.

“Yeah,” I said, realizing how snotty I already sounded.

“Oh my gosh! Are you okay, Char?” he asked, concerned .

“I will be,” I lied. At that moment I was pretty sure I wouldn’t be okay any time soon. But he didn’t need to know that. All he needed to know was that I wasn’t going to stand in his way, that I was removing myself from the situation and from his life.

“What happened?” I hated how caring and sweet he still was and I was about to never see him again.

I knew myself well enough to realize that forcing a friendship when one of the people was knee-deep in love wasn’t possible for me. I wouldn’t be able to keep seeing him and keep deluding myself that we could just be friends. Not after I realized that I wanted more and that he wasn’t willing or able to give me that. I wasn’t going to sign up for the director’s cut version of this friendship breakup, in which my heart would slowly get stabbed over the course of weeks or months of pretending we were just friends, until we inevitably came up with some kind of excuse to make it stop.

“Just… stupid assumptions,” I admitted, not sure how else I could put it.

“You mean Vicky? About the pool?”

“No, although that stung too. I just… I’m sorry, Noah. This is not something I was planning on.” Fuck. How do you even break up with someone who was never truly yours? Someone you borrowed for a night? Someone you didn’t even get a chance to love openly and unapologetically? Someone who you never actually fit?

“What are you talking about? What’s going on?”

“I had fun with you…” I started.

“You mean last night? Yeah, I had fun with you too. Although I feel like I haven’t seen you the whole day today.”

“Yeah. And don’t feel like you have to. See me. I’ll be okay.” I took a pause, still lost in my thoughts. “I saw you with Stephanie and I think you should go for it.”

“What?”

“You look good together. She seems like your type and I really don’t want to stand in the way. So just… Consider yourself liberated from whatever happened between us yesterday. It didn’t mean anything anyway.”

“Am I going crazy? What’s going on here?” he reached out for my hands, but I slipped out of his grasp.

“Seeing you today in your natural habitat, with the talking to the guests and the flirting and giggling in the pool… I just realized that we don’t really fit. We’re too different and I don’t want to… I’m not really looking for something casual and I’m sorry for not communicating this earlier.”

“Me neither, Charlie.” He seemed confused.

“Your phone would suggest otherwise.” The sentence came out of me before I had the chance to stop it.

“So you saw that, huh?”

“Yeah, when I was texting your mom you got some new Tinder matches. Congrats by the way.” I hated how bitter I sounded, even though he did nothing wrong.

“Char, that was nothing - “

“No, I get it. I dabbled in the past. I can understand exploring your options. You told me that you’re not looking for a relationship. And I didn’t really think about that I guess. I was overwhelmed with feelings yesterday and I don’t know... I just don’t think this is for me,” I admitted and swallowed my tears again.

“Well, it isn’t for me either, Char,” he said. “Look, if you want nothing to do with me, if last night meant nothing to you, I can understand that. But don’t tell me it’s because of a short conversation I had with your sister’s friend. Or Tinder matches courtesy of Evan. I didn’t even know I had the app on my phone until this morning.”

“What do you mean?”

“He installed it hoping it would take my mind off you . Some kind of twisted idea of a rebound. And I couldn’t care less about Stephanie. With all due respect.”

“I still don’t think we’re… looking for the same thing.”

I was looking for someone who made me feel heard, understood, cared for. Someone who would put me first. And there was no way Noah could ever do that. It wasn’t like he hadn’t warned me about that. He was very clear that he wasn’t dating, that becoming the VP was the most important thing to him, that he didn’t have time for anything real. It was me who started to fall for him, to want more than he was willing to give me. He deserved to have his own priorities respected. But I also deserved to get what I wanted, which was to be put first, to be the most important to someone. It just fucking hurt that it couldn’t be him.

“If you think so…” he paused with pain in his voice. “I will respect your decision, Char.”

Every time he said my name, my heart broke a little more, knowing I might be hearing it for the last time. I nodded hopelessly and he stood up off the bed he was sitting on beside me and headed for the door. I couldn’t watch him leave. I hated myself for how involved I got and he was a reminder of my foolishness.

But then he paused mid-step and turned around with a glint in his eye I haven’t seen before.

“Hey, I’m sorry… You’re probably gonna think that this is stupid and I’m a massive idiot, but… Do I know you?” He came a step closer and I got confused at what he was doing. “Because you look like a girl I used to know. A close friend of mine, maybe more. She was beautiful, smart, insanely funny and… did I mention beautiful?”

“What happened?” I played along through tears I couldn’t stop anymore. I felt like I was giving away how I really felt about him, but I figured I could give him that much as a goodbye.

“I messed it up. I was so scared of going too fast, of not respecting her wishes, of pushing her into anything she might not be 1000% ready for, that I forgot to tell her how much she meant to me in between. How much I enjoyed spending time with her. How much I missed her when she wasn’t around. How I wanted to hold her and tell her it’s gonna be okay every time I saw the slightest glimpse of pain in her gorgeous blue eyes.” He looked straight into them and I held his gaze.

“So you messed it up because you were scared to mess it up?” I smiled slightly, even though tears were now a constant stream down my face. It was slowly dawning on me what was happening.

“I guess so. The truth is, I didn’t mess up back in May when I saw you again, Charlie and didn’t immediately tell you how much I’d missed you since we last saw each other all those years ago. I didn’t mess up back in July when you first met me for drinks and trusted me with your pain, your passion, your chosen family, your true self and I forgot to express how much it meant that you shared it with me. I didn’t mess up when I failed to put that curl that kept falling into your eyes behind your ear at our picnic, no matter how much my hands itched to do it. I didn’t mess up when I failed remarkably at cooking Italian food despite all your help. I didn’t mess up when I kissed you and didn’t instantly tell you how I felt about you. I didn’t mess up when I drove you home and let you go in there alone even though I saw how hard it was for you.

“I mean, I did mess up all those times. But I messed up the most when I saw this nerdy little kid with a spark in her eyes and a book in hand first enter my home. I messed it up by not becoming her best friend right there. I messed up by going along with what people around me wanted from me and asked of me. I messed up by not listening to my heart back then and still all those years later. I messed up by putting my work before this.

“But I won’t mess it up this time. I can’t leave here without the absolute certainty that you know how I feel about you. I can’t leave thinking there was something else I could have said or done that would make you understand what an important part of my life you’ve become.

“Char, I love you. I’ve loved you since we were just kids and I didn’t know what love is. I’ve loved you since I saw you hide your smile behind that napkin and when I made it my mission to conjure it up as often as possible. I’ve loved you even when I haven’t seen you all those years. And when I finally did, it felt like coming home and that love only grew stronger.

“To be honest, I came here to tell you that I was offered the VP position because you are the first person I want to talk to when stuff like that happens. And even if you don’t want this love, it will still be here. Because it’s woven into every part of my being. And I don’t want anyone else. There was never anyone else.”

I sat there stunned, with my mouth agape and tears falling faster than from a tap. He loved me? Noah loved me?

“Say something?” he asked and I realized I have been mute this whole time, drinking in every word out of his beautiful lips.

“I…” I started, my heart forming the words in my mouth. “I love you too, Noah. I have loved you too.”

He came closer and our lips collided in a kiss. Not a passionate hungry kiss of last night, nor a forbidden and naughty kiss in front of my apartment. This kiss contained a whole world of words we couldn’t say. Phrases that wouldn’t accurately render every ache we’ve both been feeling since we first met. Sentences that apologized for holding back our feelings, giving in to pressure and wasting years not being by each other’s sides. Poems of adoration and appreciation that we drank from each other’s lips. I could kiss him forever. And I was planning on it. At least until I realized what he said some time between “Do I know you?” and “I’ll always love you”.

“Did you really get the job, Noah?” I exclaimed, pulling away.

“Is this what you got out of the whole thing?” he laughed.

“Among other things,” I teased him right back and a warm sensation filled my heart at how good it felt to just be myself with him, to joke with him again and tease him.

“I did get the offer, yeah…” he started.

“Congratu-”

“... but I turned it down,” he continued before I managed to finish applauding him.

“What do you mean you turned it down? Wasn’t it the dream?” I asked, confused.

“Maybe at one point. But it was a stupid dream,” he said and kissed me again. “I was living that life because I didn’t know there’s another way until you showed me. And now that I know, I don’t want to spend all of my time at work. I want to live. I want to enjoy my life. I want to enjoy it with you. This is actually the dream.”

He was right. This actually was the dream.





Chapter Twenty-One


Noah


The sun was close to setting by the time we decided to leave the bedroom and it wasn’t because of what you might expect. We simply spent another hour talking, catching each other up on what we’d missed between the lines and what we’d felt we had to hide or hold back since May.

We also spend some time reminiscing on the good (and not so good) old times. I think I must have apologized to her about a million times for following Vicky’s lead like a stupid puppy. And no matter how many times she said she understood, the guilt was still strong as ever. She sympathized with me though, having had years of first-hand experience in manipulation from her sister, but I still couldn’t believe I had missed so much. It was like I’d had blinders on or something.

Charlie confessed that she’d hid away with her books so often because she’d felt like she hadn’t been included and that feelings of jealousy had dominated a fair chunk of her thoughts back then. That hurt.

She did have good stories though. She gushed about my mom’s “cooking school” and I was mesmerized by her passion one more time and likely not the last. She also mentioned that she loved my stories and jokes at the dinner table and I was happy to hear that I was responsible for at least one thing she remembered fondly.

I was looking forward to still making her laugh. Without hiding this time. As we talked, I kept getting lost in her eyes that finally regained their spark fully. I couldn’t believe I got to stare into that gorgeous blueness as much as I wanted to, without shame.

Unfortunately, we couldn’t stay in her bedroom forever, seeing as we were in the middle of a party we were expected to not only help at but also participate in. I also didn’t want her to miss out on spending 4th of July with her family no matter how complicated the dynamic.

“Should we brave the outside world?” I dared ask.

“I suppose we should,” she responded without breaking eye contact for even a second. We’ve been locked in for the past hour and it looked like it wasn’t stopping any time soon.

“We can stay here a bit longer if you want,” I offered and rested my palm on her knee.

“No, I’m ready.” She got up and extended her hand like that time she asked me if I trusted her before she led me into a dark alley. And I still did. But maybe this time, she needed to trust me a bit more. And I needed to give her the chance to. I had a sneaking suspicion that she would rather bask in the bliss of what happened for the rest of the day and maybe even the rest of the trip, but she put on a brave face and pulled me toward the sliding doors leading to where everyone gathered for the firework show.

“I’m here.” I squeezed her palm on the way up the stairs.

“Thank you… Wait.” She stopped mid-step. “What do we say?”

“Whatever you’re comfortable with, my lovely girlfriend.”

“Girlfriend? Very presumptuous of you with the titles but okay.”

“I think the ‘I love you’ entitles me to a little bit of presumptuousness. Don’t you?” I asked and enclosed her in a hug. Maybe sometimes it was okay to push her a little bit. Or at least communicate my own feelings and let her make her own mind.

“Only a little.”

She looked up at me from the embrace and winked. We walked on hand in hand and with shit-eating grins on our faces. I couldn’t remember the last time I was so happy despite the slight nervousness now entering my body. I haven’t exactly been very open with my feelings for anyone in front of my parents. I don’t remember ever bringing a girl here either. This felt significant. And right.

“But let’s keep this a secret for one more day. I want to enjoy this before I hear anyone else’s opinion and judgement,” she added. She must have known something I didn’t because I was convinced that people would be rather happy for us. But I still wanted to respect her decision, so I agreed without protest. I wanted to scream it from the rooftops though, so I expected keeping it in to be a bit of a challenge.

“There you are, guys,” my mom said and looked at our intertwined fingers before we parted but didn’t comment on them. “The fireworks are about to start!”

She handed each of us a sparkler and pulled us outside. The crowd didn’t dwindle much, but the pool was virtually empty. Everyone gathered around the firepit or other sources of heat, or covered their once naked shoulders with blankets. I saw Charlie’s skin turn into gooseflesh so I grabbed one for us too and cuddled up to her with the excuse of the blanket being small. Which it absolutely was not.

We stayed back a little and observed everyone getting ready for the big lightshow. And the moment the first one burst into the air with red, white and blue lights I couldn’t care less what the fireworks actually looked like. All I wanted to see were her wide-open eyes reflecting the night’s sky illuminated by flashing colors.

She caught me staring and grabbed me by the chin to turn my face up to the view. I gave her a whole minute of obedience and went back to the most beautiful view I could ever ask for.

“Noah!” she giggled. “Don’t think I can’t see you!” She looked up toward me.

“I just can’t believe I get to unabashedly stare at you.”

“Well, you don’t,” she nudged me with her elbow.

“Come here.” I pulled her closer and she settled into a warm hug.

“Happy 4th of July, Noah,” she said and looked up at me.

“Happy 4th of July to you, Char,” I lowered my face to hers and kissed her again gently, but she pulled me closer. The sensation still ignited my nerves and sent alarms to my brain, screaming “Oh my god, you’re kissing her! You’re kissing Charlie Cooper! Who is your girlfriend!” I wondered how long that might last, but I welcomed it for the time being.

After both of us got lost in the kiss for a good minute, Charlie pulled away and looked around in a panic. We were at the back of the crowd and no one was looking at us, but I figured we should probably have taken it slower with the public displays of affection.

“I’m sorry. I just can’t get enough of you,” I apologized and she only smiled in return and settled in my arms. Her eyes were so full of love, I questioned the secrecy of this new relationship even without any PDA. But then again, I couldn’t return the look hiding my feelings either.

After the fireworks most of the parents and kids left, seeing as it was past the little one’s bedtimes. Some of the older folks did the same for the same reason. I was asked to get a few of the neighbors who enjoyed the party a little too much home and I had to leave Charlie behind, so that more people could fit in my car. I didn’t want to do that, I wanted to soak in this new-found bliss, but she reassured me and sent me on my way with a kiss we shared, hiding in the empty kitchen.

“Get out of here,” she laughed and pushed me away.

“I’ll be back as soon as I can,” I promised and kissed her cheek.

“Well, the sooner you leave, the sooner you can come back. So chop-chop!” She still smiled from ear to ear and I was in heaven. “Drive safe, though,” she added.

“Of course, Char. It’s not far either. An hour max.” I kissed her again and left setting up location share on my phone as I walked off.

***

When I came home 45 minutes later I went to look for Charlie but first found my mom in the kitchen. She had that soft, welcoming smile that only grew when she saw me.

“Hi, love,” she said, clearly tired from the party bustling about the place for most of the day. “Everyone get home safe?”

“Yeah, everyone is home and getting into their pjs, I’m sure. Although Mr. Saint-James probably skipped all that and just conked out as soon as his body passed the threshold. He already drooled in the backseat.”

“Sounds like him!” she laughed and took a pause. After a deep breath, she looked at me as if she wanted to communicate a whole world of words she didn’t have. “Noah, darling, I don’t know if I said that before but thank you. You’ve been so helpful today and it’s so nice to have you home, even just for the weekend. And you brought Charlotte here too. It was so nice to catch up with her. And she’s so wonderful…” She took another deep breath. “I wish you could visit more often.” She came up to me and pulled me into a hug.

“Yeah, same,” I knew that my reality was about to change a bit with the promotion not hanging over me anymore, but I wanted to tell both of my parents at the same time. And show them the reason for the change of heart too. “Maybe things will change soon.”

“Hopefully.” I could see the worry plaguing her mind. “I just miss you and… I want you to be happy…” She trailed off. “Did you get a chance to talk to Charlotte?”

“What do you mean?”

“I just… I thought she was going to talk to you about something.”

“I’m not sure.” I didn’t want to say too much, but it almost felt like my mom knew something I didn’t. Would us holding hands give away that much? Either way, I wasn’t about to tell her everything. I wanted to do it with Charlie, on her terms. “But I was actually looking for her.”

“Oh, I think she’s reading outside,” she stated with a strange amount of understanding I couldn’t put my finger on. “Awww, I guess I’ll head to bed. It’s been a long day,” she said on a yawn. “Your father is already snoring up a storm in there. I just wanted to wait up for you, make sure you got home safe. Goodnight, love.”

“Goodnight, mom.”

She left the kitchen and it took everything out of me not to sprint outside to see Charlie. I power walked to the bifold doors and slipped in unnoticed. She was still wearing her swimsuit and the cover-up, but now she was also bundled up in the blanket we were hiding under before. She was holding her Kindle, fully immersed in a story. I came up behind her and hugged her, planting a kiss on her freckled neck.

“Oh hello, you,” she giggled looking back and pulled me closer by the hands. I walked over the backrest of the outdoor couch she was sitting on and plopped next to her with my arm around her shoulders. It felt so right. Almost as if we were reclaiming the space around us. We never used to show each other any kind of affection even though apparently we both had wanted to. We’d never gotten to sit on this patio hip to hip, looking into each other’s eyes. This was a rebellion for our old selves, even if we were still only able to do that by the cover of night. For now.

All of a sudden, I wasn’t that tired anymore. It was like she breathed new life into me just by being nearby. All of a sudden it felt like I could spend the whole night here under the stars, just talking to her or even just being her heater as she read her book. But then, I had a better idea.

“Char, wanna hop in the pool for a second?” I still had my swimming trunks on and she was still sporting my favorite bikini, judging by the straps I had so much trouble tying up in Oceanside peeking out from under the T-shirt dress.

“Isn’t it pretty cold?”

“Not in there. It’s heated up.” I raised my eyebrows in question.

“Okay!” she said and pulled her dress off while still under the blanket.

She didn’t need much convincing to get into the water. I should have expected this. I took off my shirt too and dropped it on the couch beside her cover-up and reached my hand out toward her. She pulled it out of the blanket and stood up. I saw the instant goosebumps her freckled shoulders were covered in so I wrapped the blanket around her for that one minute walk to the pool. On the way I grabbed two fresh towels out of a basket leftover from the party and set them down close by.

She dropped the blanket at the last minute and jumped in head-first after dipping her toe in to check the temperature. She looked so elegant in the water. It felt like an unparalleled honor to be watching a medal-winning swimmer in her natural habitat. But more so, it felt like an honor to see someone I loved do something that made them so happy.

I didn’t get to see it much before, other than when she swam away at the speed of light after I helped her out with the bikini top in the ocean. I didn’t appreciate it then because I was still reeling from that interaction. But now I saw her in all of her glory. She was so easy to admire, to appreciate, to fall in love with. I could have watched her for hours, but she interrupted me.

“Aren’t you coming in, Noah?”

“I was mesmerised by my siren,” I responded, slipping into the pool and walking towards her.

“Shut up!” She thought I was mocking her.

“I’m serious. You look gorgeous in here . This pool suits you. And it’s a pleasure seeing you do what you love.” I slid my hands from her waist down her thighs all the way to the knees and pulled them up to rest on my hips. She straddled me and put her arms around my neck looking me straight in the eyes.

“Well, I’m pretty sure I love doing you. Does that count?” she joked but kissed me passionately as if it wasn’t a joke at all. I figured that sex in my parents pool might be a bit too much and I didn’t have any protection on me so I just kissed her back, squeezed her gorgeous ass and just enjoyed the moment.

We must have stayed in the pool talking, making out, laughing and making out some more for a solid hour before our fingers turned pruney and our bodies couldn’t handle all that teasing.

I ran out the pool first and instructed Char to stay inside. I grabbed my towel and quickly rubbed the water off me. It was actually kind of cold outside in the middle of the night and I didn’t want her to freeze her cute butt off. After I got relatively dry, I let her come out into my arms, ready for her with her own towel. She held it close as I wrapped the blanket around her again and pulled her inside, grabbing our stuff on the way.

We were both ready for bed but didn’t want the night to end. Without asking we both headed to my bedroom. As I was looking at her wearing my T-shirt to sleep, a weird sense of possessiveness awoke in me. She looked like she was mine and I loved it. We cuddled up to each other and the tiredness of today’s rollercoaster must have hit us both like a ton of bricks because we ended up falling asleep almost instantly.





Chapter Twenty-Two


Charlie


Another day waking up next to Noah with his arms pulling me close to his body. I could get used to this. I shifted my weight a little bit, which earned me a moan from the sexy man barely holding onto sleep beside me. He pulled me closer and kissed my neck lazily.

“No, don’t leave,” he sounded croaky and hot and I wanted to give in, but my full bladder wouldn’t allow me to.

“I’ll be right back, I promise,” I said, pulling his heavy arm off my waist.

I peed and brushed my teeth really quickly, but ignored the mess on my head and in it. I still couldn’t really believe that Noah loved me. Hell, I was still reeling from the revelation that he and my sister were never together. Not to mention the Tinder app Evan installed on his phone without his knowledge.

The past 48 hours have seriously turned my world upside down. It was all coming together and while before I was picking apart every little thing about our potential couple life, now with every kiss and every “I love you” the cacophony of thoughts turned into a beautiful symphony.

But today was a different challenge altogether. We had to tell our families. Well, we didn’t have to, but hiding my feelings from Noah for months had been exhausting enough. Even though we technically started our relationship yesterday, clearly we have been falling in love for a while before that. So it didn’t really feel like a new relationship. It felt like enacting some sort of destiny that foretold this. Like we were always meant to be and never realized until Noah was brave enough to say it out loud.

I tiptoed back to the bed, but Noah was fully awake now, his curls falling in every direction, similarly to mine. We must have looked so goofy with our sleepy eyes, messy hair, scant clothing, and the widest possible smiles. But we were undeniably happy. We got ready side by side, just like I imagined it yesterday, in the bathroom so similar to that vision minus the double vanity. Bumping hips as we got ready at the sink , wearing his shirt, and smelling his faint laundry detergent felt so comfortable.

After we got dressed slowly with breaks for kisses and cuddles that reversed some of the putting-clothes-on effort, we were ready to head upstairs. We walked side by side into the kitchen, giggling about last night’s shenanigans. We had the place to ourselves for a second and it felt blissfully domestic to be brewing coffees next to each other.

“Morning, my loves !” I heard Amy exclaim and we involuntarily jumped a touch away from each other. Even though we were going to tell everyone today, both of us felt that nervousness that made us still feel secretive. As long as we didn’t share anything about this, it was ours. We got to protect it.

“Morning, mom-”

“Morning, Amy,” we said in unison.

“How are you both doing today?” she asked us with that unending smile. We looked at each other and smiled way too big before saying “Great!” in unison again. She was looking at us like she could sense what was going on but still didn’t bring it up.

The breakfast we prepared together consisted of a lot of leftovers (which, in my opinion, was the best breakfast… well, maybe other than my favorite coffee shop’s freshly baked goods), but it still took some work. Noah was trying his best to help in the kitchen, but eventually he was sent to set up the dining room. My mom and Vicky came soon after and Stuart joined us when everything was prepared. They sat down leaving two seats next to each other vacant, which was convenient. I was so nervous.

“Everyone’s here,” I said, when we went to the kitchen to grab the last platter of finger sandwiches.

“Yhm,” he hummed. His energy was nervous and excited, but the smile suggested he was ready to get it out of the way.

“Do you think we should tell them now?”

“Do you want to? We don’t have to if you’re not comfortable.”

“No, I want to. I just don’t know what to expect. But better to do it now, while my stomach is too empty to puke.”

“Do you want me to take the lead?” He was always so thoughtful. And now, I was desperate for his help.

I wasn’t sure why this whole thing felt so grand, so significant, so… unbelievable. My best guess for where these feelings were coming from was a combination of two factors.

One was the fact that I grew up in this house, alongside Noah, taken care of by Amy and Stuart in a significant way. There was a potential for some discomfort on their side seeing us as a couple now and revising the familial bonds that inexplicably connected us while not being related at all.

And the second one was what my sister insinuated the day before yesterday. That the likes of him do not fraternize with the likes of me. I guess there was a part of me that was afraid people wouldn’t see us as a viable option, think we were insane or pulling an elaborate prank on them. Well, not people. Victoria. I was trying not to let it get to me, but I still heard her voice echo in my head. Thankfully Noah's was louder, clearer, kinder . All the things that made me want to listen.

“Yeah, maybe.”

We left the kitchen, set the last platter on the table and before we sat down Noah looked at me with a question in his eyes. I nodded and he grabbed my hand showing off his pearly whites.

“Guys?” he started, in order to get everyone’s attention. “I’d like to say something.”

Everyone’s eyes darted towards him and suddenly I felt like this could either be the end of the world as I knew it or the beginning of the most beautiful future I could ever imagine. Or both.

“So, remember when I took that trip to Oceanside?” Amy nodded enthusiastically. “I didn’t tell you then, but I ran into Charlie there. Which was an insane coincidence.” Amy looked even more exhilarated at that statement. “Well, she made me wait a little,” he nudged me in my side. “But I somehow got her to go out with me and one thing led to another and… I guess she’s my girlfriend now. We’re together.” He beamed at me not even noticing everyone’s reactions. I was lost in hearing the last few words echo in my head. I guess we were together. “Oh, and I was offered the VP position at the bank but… I refused it. It’s just not what I want anymore. I want to slow down, live a little. But I’ll keep the job, don’t worry.”

“Oh, you two! I knew something was going on between you!” Amy exclaimed and ran up to us to give us a hug completely ignoring Noah’s job announcement. She was so clearly pleased by the turn of events. “You have to give us the whole story! I want to know everything!”

“Well, congratulations, you guys. Treat her well, son. And the same goes for you, Charlie.” Stuart said as he shook Noah’s hand with a smile. “I’m still not giving you my brisket rub recipe!” he added jokingly to me.

My mom too smiled widely and congratulated us meekly on getting together, but Vicky was quiet. When silence following everyone’s kind sentiments fell, something must have hit her and she started laughing.

“You guys are a couple now? Are you serious? Is this a joke?” she cackled.

Noah looked to me to check in, understanding now how difficult and hurtful this sisterly relationship had been for me, and I was frozen where I stood. I should have expected Vicky to ruin this. All the excitement of the rest of our families faded as quickly as it came and everyone was on edge due to her performance.

“Actually, Vicky,” Noah started. “No. This is not a joke. This is real life. I love your sister and for some reason she loves me back,” he said, exuding confidence.

“Love? Come on now.” She still didn’t believe him.

“What is your problem, Vicky? Can’t you be happy for your sister? For once?” Noah continued, getting kind of angry now. I could feel that his frustration came not only from this exchange but all the history she invented between them and years of lying and deception he was finally privy to.

“Oh, I’m happy for her, but as soon as YOU decide to dump her and get together with someone more your caliber, I’LL be the one she comes crying to.” Every word she said stung more and more. So much so, I decided that I’ve had enough.

“Trust me, you are the LAST person I would come crying to you. Don’t pretend that you care about me. Don’t pretend that this is coming from a good place.” I couldn’t hold it in anymore. “You’ve done enough with your lying and taking digs at me. This is enough.”

“When have I lied to you?!” she shouted, outraged.

“How about when you told me that you and Noah are a couple?”

“Oh come on, I never said that.” She had the nerve to outright lie to me. But I wasn’t about to cower in front of her again.

“Oh yes, you did. You told me you were going on dates, that you didn’t want me interrupting you because you were together and that I would understand what a ‘real relationship’ was when I got older.” She rolled her eyes, unable to deny what I said.

“I just knew that Noah didn’t want to be in a relationship and I saw those puppy eyes you were making at him. I just didn’t want you to get hurt.” She feigned concern again, trying a different tactic of getting me on her side.

“Please don’t speak for me, Vicky. I never said I didn’t want to be in a relationship. I just didn’t want to be in one with you,” Noah chimed in.

Vicky got up and stormed off screaming “I will not sit here and be disrespected!” in place of goodbye.

A minute later we heard the front door slam shut behind her. I was shaking and I felt the tears push their way out my eyes with no apparent control from me. It almost felt like a part of me, some old, hurt, cowering part of me, that always came back when I was around Vicky, died and was replaced by this Charlie.

A Charlie built up by people closest to me - Lola, Noah, even Amy. A Charlie that didn’t let people walk all over her, that was not hopeless, stagnant and without a sense of home or hope. A Charlie I wanted to be.

We were still reeling from the fight when my mom spoke.

“I guess I’m going to need a ride home.” The tension dissipated in an instant and we all laughed at the ridiculousness of the situation.

“We’ll take you mom, don’t worry,” I said, regaining my composure, sort of assuming Noah would be okay with that arrangement. He nodded in reassurance.

“To be honest,” Noah said only to me when we finally sat down to eat and I calmed down a little. “I don’t think I would have wanted to be in a relationship with you back then either. Fourteen and eighteen sounds really creepy.”

He let my laugh shake off the last bits of what just happened. The last for now. This felt like a fight I would remember for a very long time. “But I wanted to be your friend. I still do.”

“You are,” I reassured him and dared a quick peck on the lips. After that, our breakfast passed in a much more pleasant atmosphere and it helped that the food was actually banging. And today I could say it with confidence, not like I had joked yesterday.

As we were bringing the dishes back to the kitchen, Amy pulled me aside.

“Charlotte, darling. I cannot express to you how happy I am that you and Noah have finally found each other.”

“Thank you, Amy. It means a lot. But… finally? Are you referring to my agonizing conundrums about a boy I shared with you the other day?”

“That too, I suppose. But I feel like it’s been a long time coming. Longer than you even realize.”

“What do you mean?”

“Oh, he adored you so much as a young boy. He would ask every morning if you girls were coming over and I knew it wasn’t because of Victoria. Bless her heart. He would request dinners he knew you liked just in case you ladies stayed long enough to eat with us.

“He might not remember this, but one time on the weekend we went to the zoo. He must have been twelve or thirteen. He got so sad when he realized that you aren’t coming but was trying to hide it so much. And he did really poorly. The whole time at the zoo he pointed out animals that he thought you would like. Not Victoria, just you. He was certain lemurs would be a favorite of yours at the time. He even wanted to find out if the zoo’s gift shop had any books about them. They didn’t, sadly. It got him this permanently affixed grimace until he saw you again. It was so funny.”

“Wow, I didn’t know that.”

“Yeah, he never really reminisced about his childhood talking about Victoria. I don’t think he was even aware of that. It was always you, even though I saw that your friendship was only a little bud back them . I can see it blooming now and I couldn’t be happier for both of you, loves .”

“Oh, Amy!” I exclaimed and hugged her close.

This meant so much to me. Not just the fact that I was somewhat important to Noah even back then, but also that Amy gave us a big stamp of approval and that she was happy for us. She was always so welcoming, I didn’t think this would be that different, but I wasn’t prepared for just how comfortable and safe I would feel here even in such different circumstances than the last time I visited.

***

After the adventures of this morning, I was just about ready to go home but not before taking care of some things at my mom’s place. We dropped her off and spent some time there helping around with small household tasks. She felt good today so she spent it in the garden, tending to her multitude of flowers. Noah helped out with cleaning the gutters which were long past due, carrying boxes of some donations we promised to drop off later and tightening the screws on the dining table I suspected had little to no use lately. I was pottering around the kitchen, trying to tidy things up for her, get rid of some expired food and cracked dishes, and avoid talking or thinking about Vicky as much as I could. I couldn’t avoid it entirely. It was still rattling around my mind, cutting me further every time it replayed the scene.

“Do you need some help, mom?” I asked her when I came to the front lawn covered in blooms, hoping some fresh air might help me clear my head.

“Maybe you can just sit with me?” she suggested shyly. We were both reserved in our expressions and treading carefully.

I sat down on a foldable chair next to her, but I was facing the flowers. It felt safer. They were beautiful and it was clear how much love and care she was able to put into this garden. It stung a little realizing that it was probably more loved than me.

“How has work been?” she started. I was already tired of the meaningless small talk.

“It’s been going well. Can’t complain,” I responded, growing more and more distant. I didn’t even feel like returning the empty questions. I preferred silence over this bullshit “conversation”.

I was already on edge from Vicky’s theatrics this morning. I didn’t need more to deal with. Somewhere deep down I broke, my resolve to keep the peace, to take whatever I was given and never ask for more broke . I wasn’t interested in keeping my relationship with Victoria and I didn’t really have one to begin with with my mom, so I just wanted to get through the day and go back home. To a place that actually felt like home, that is.

“I think about you a lot, Charlie,” she said again after a good five minutes of silence only disturbed by birdsong here and there.

“Yeah?” I didn’t know what to say to that.

“I think up until this morning I assumed you and Victoria had a good relationship, that she took good care of you when I couldn’t. I don’t think I’ve even seen her like that.”

“You didn’t exactly pay attention,” I couldn’t help myself. Being constantly reminded of how little she knew me and how many people and even things around her were getting her love, while I couldn’t remember the last time I did, hurt like hell.

“You’re right…” she trailed off and a quiet stream of tears flooded her cheeks. I was stunned. “I never apologized to you for not being there. I know now that I jumped into work and reorganizing our lives because it hurt too much to actually live it without Charles. I couldn’t stand looking into your eyes because they’re just like his. You look so much like your father…

“And every time I heard ‘Charlie’ my heart broke a little bit more like I was reliving losing him over and over again.” She paused and wiped her tears though they kept flowing. My heart was breaking at the sight, not quite sure which one of us for . Her voice quivered. “I can’t even imagine how it must have felt for you.”

“It was the worst thing that ever happened to me, mom. I loved dad so much and it hurt like hell to lose him. But I didn’t know I'd be losing you too and I think that hurt even more.” My cheeks were flooded now too. Despite the passage of time, the wounds felt fresh.

“I’m so sorry, Charlie. You didn’t deserve this. You deserved to have a loving parent that was present and took care of you and supported you in your hardest moments. I’m so sorry I couldn’t be that for you then. I hope that one day you can forgive me and let me be that for you now.” She was looking at me with an apologetic and loving gaze. It shifted things inside, straightened some kinks, righted some crooks.

“You’re right mom. I did deserve a loving parent…” I paused, pain and relief enveloping me simultaneously. “I still do. And it would be stupid to turn my back on her now.”

She got up and offered me an embrace I was waiting for ever since we first heard about the accident, twenty years ago. I walked into it and settled in her arms, for the first time feeling the warmth I was craving. My flurry of anger and resentment that I was holding onto all this time were clearing, slowly replaced by understanding and compassion.

“It must have been really hard losing your husband,” I was finally able to say.

“It was,” she cried, still in my arms.

“And I never told you how much I appreciated what you did for us when your life was falling apart. Thank you.” Hearing her side of the story allowed me to see the situation in a completely different light. Suddenly, things were much clearer.

“I just wanted you girls to have a good life. As good as I could make it for you…”

“And it was good, mom.” My weeping was uncontrollable and frankly I didn’t want to control it. These tears were long overdue.

“It could have been better if I was around more.” She crumbled in my arms and her sobs were taking her breath. I had no idea she too was holding onto so much pain from back then. We both suffered alone all this time and turned all the unexpressed love into more pain.

We stood in the garden for a good 10 minutes embracing each other, soaking each other in and just letting all of the pain that came to the surface slowly exit our broken hearts through body-shaking sobs. I have never realized the true healing power of crying with someone, especially in their arms. We ran out of tears after a while and only love took up the space inside. I knew that our relationship was far from perfect, hell, it had been far from existing up to that point. But this was the most real conversation I’ve ever had with her and I wanted to keep having real conversations. I was ready to completely break the already cracked foundations made up of resentment and pain and build us up from scratch. I was excited to get to know her again, I was excited for her to get to know me as I was now.

Especially because I felt like I was finally becoming who I always wanted to be.





Chapter Twenty-Three


Noah


Coming back from Mrs. Cooper’s place was its own beast, but it opened a door into Charlie’s heart even more. Seeing her swollen, red and splotchy was enough to take me down, but this time I was glad to hear the tears weren’t of just pain. And I was glad she felt safe enough with me to talk about what happened.

Learning more about Charlie’s childhood and the complexity of things at play only made me appreciate my family more and made me want to love Charlie better. I was getting familiar with this primal need to protect her and I didn’t want to fight it.

After getting home, packing up our small duffel bags and humongous food containers filled to the brim with leftovers and a quick batch of Charlie’s favorite cookies and hot chocolate my mom whipped up, we were on our way. Saying goodbye to my parents was particularly challenging this time around for some reason, but at the same time, I was leaving knowing that these trips were not going to be as rare as before. Because of my demotion, or rather lack of promotion, I had the foundation to create this elusive “work-life balance” I kept hearing about. I used to think of it in similar terms as elves and unicorns, but hey, it was worth a try.

“Now that we’re together…” Char started. “Does that mean I’m fired?”

“Fired?”

“Yeah, from my hobby consulting gig,” she laughed.

“Well, I still haven’t found a hobby that would steal my heart other than maybe looking for new hobbies with you.” It earned me a bashful smile. I grabbed her hand and pulled it to my lips. “So I’d love to continue, if you’ll have me.”

“Great, because I can’t miss seniors’ bingo next week. And I could use a sexy assistant.” Her eyes sparkled in excitement.

We spent the rest of the long drive getting pumped for other adventures Charlie planned for us, even though she was trying to be secretive about most of her ideas. It felt so easy and comfortable to be planning the future with her. I could see it so clearly and there were no questions in my mind of how it might look like two , five, ten years down the line. I hoped it was just like this. My hand on her thigh, her zest for life brimming over and peace in both our hearts.

As we neared Cedar Valley and the end of our trip, I noticed Charlie’s eyes glazing over and her yawns becoming much harder to hide.

“You can sleep, love,” I said and after the mandatory protest and attempts to assure me she was fresh as a daisy, she finally gave up.

“I’ll just rest my eyes, okay?”

“Just go to sleep, I’ll get you home safe,” I promised and realized what immediately came to my mind when I’d said it. It wasn’t her apartment which I was sure was lovely and I had been interested in seeing since April. It was mine. In my head her home was already in my kitchen, on my couch, in my bed, next to me.

By the time we reached my building, Charlie started to snore and I hated that I had to interrupt it.

“Honey, we’re here,” I said softly so as not to rattle her too much. I parked in my garage ready to offer her to stay with me but also ready to drive her to her place at the smallest sign that she would prefer it.

“Where is ‘here’?” she asked with her eyes still closed. She must have really conked out.

“We’re in my garage. I was going to ask you if you’d like to stay over tonight. You already have all your stuff in the back with you. And I can’t be expected to eat all of the leftovers alone.” I joked as she opened her eyes with effort. “But just say the word and I’ll drive you to your apartment immediately.”

“No-ah! I’d love to stay over!” she beamed, suddenly awake.

We grabbed our bags and boxes and carried them to the elevator. Inside, I pushed the button to the penthouse, which made Charlie stare at me, stunned but silent.

“Wow! I didn’t know you were this fancy!” she exclaimed as we walked out to the hallway that had only my door at the end of it. I unlocked it by scanning my thumb which earned me another exclamation of surprise. We walked in, her - eyes wide open, mouth agape and curiosity mixed with excitement coursing through her veins, judging by the finger flutters and little jumps she was doing, me - carrying our plethora of food and thoroughly enjoying my view.

I gave her the tour starting with the kitchen. I never noticed how spacious and ergonomic it was until Charlie pointed it out. She did make fun of me for the dust that gathered on my induction stove and the fact that most of my drawers were empty. But I could already see her filling them up with her utensils and equipment in the future. Then we moved to the adjacent living room. The place looked so different now that I could see it through her eyes. The room felt somehow cold and empty despite my best efforts to make it feel homey. It consisted of simply a couch and a TV and neither looked very inviting at the moment.

Other rooms felt similarly sterile now that they were illuminated by Charlie's energy and crazy red hair. She was the only color in every room of my apartment and in my life. I was ready to ask her to live with me on the spot. Not because I wanted her to fill my place with her stuff. I mean some of it was that because I had a whole empty room she could dedicate to whatever craft or project occupied her mind at the time. And I happened to think that my toothbrush was a little lonely in the big double sink en suite bathroom. But I also wanted to see her every day, lighting up my life and this place in conjunction.

“Did you just move in?” she joked.

“Ha-ha,” I stated in response. “I realize now that this looks like a total bachelor pad.”

“Yeah, of a serial killer maybe,” she joked.

“Come on, we both know I don't have a knife sharp enough to cut through flesh.”

“Should I be worried that you had that locked and loaded?”

“Well, I don't have anything else locked and loaded, if you're thinking about that.”

“Yeah, I wouldn't peg you for a gun type.”

“I'm not,” I assured her.

“Okay, now that we got the mandatory acknowledgement that you could be a serial killer out of the way and you passed… Can we watch something in that cinema of yours?”

“It's not even that big! But yes, let's.”

“I don't think I could handle bigger .”

“Charlie! You're a naughty girl, aren't you?”

“Only a little bit. What can I say, you bring out the best in me.”

Before we settled on the couch, I made each of us a plate and reheated it in the microwave. It was my version of “cooking” for her. I mean, I had to start somewhere. It wasn’t the most sophisticated of methods, but it got the job done. And because it was the most used appliance in my home, it was state of the art and made the food resemble its freshest form pretty closely.

We spent the evening cuddled up on the couch, nibbling on delicious goodies from my mom, giggling, and watching TV. It didn’t matter what was on, we were focused on each other anyway. After we ate, I took the chaise part of the couch and Charlie snuggled up on my chest, tracing lazy circles around my sternum. She fell asleep within minutes of me caressing her hair and I stayed there just breathing the moment in for a while. When my eyes started to fall too, I figured it was time to move to the bed. I didn’t have the heart to wake her up again, so I draped her floppy arms around my neck and slid mine under her knees and back. I hoisted her up and took a second to pause making sure she didn’t wake up in the movement. She was still sound asleep. I carried her to the bed and she looked so perfect in there. I never slept better.

***

After running out of clothes three days into Charlie’s stay she somehow convinced me she needed to go back to her apartment. I dropped her off in the morning before work and handed her my spare key before kissing her goodbye.

Even though it was only a few days we fell into a rhythm of easy mornings with coffee, driving to work together and chatting on the couch until we fell asleep. Well, until Charlie fell asleep. We were deep within our little bubble and it seemed that Char enjoyed it as much as me. But for some reason I was afraid that going back to her apartment might burst it .

“Hey, Char!” I called during my lunch break. “When are you coming home today? I thought we could order something for dinner.”

“Home?” She sounded touched and I could hear her wide smile through the phone.

“Yeah, home… The key isn’t temporary,” I said hoping she understood my invitation. “I mean… The key is temporary because we will program your fingerprint into the lock. But you know what I mean. You’re invited to stay. I mean… to move in.” This wasn’t the way I imagined I would ask Charlie to live with me, but I was glad to have said it. The place felt so different with her in it; it was like it came alive.

“Really?” She seemed pleasantly surprised but paused for the longest minute of my life. “To be honest, when I went to my apartment this morning it felt so… cold, empty. I don’t know. It just didn’t feel like home. I don’t know if it ever has.”

“Mine isn’t that filled up or warm either,” I countered.

“No, it is, Noah. It’s filled with you. With your scent, your energy, your style. It’s minimalistic, sure. But it… It just feels like home because you’re there.” She sniffled.

“It only started to feel like home to me three days ago too.” Tears were pushing their way out slowly, but I didn’t let them fall. “So, is that a yes? You’ll move in with me?”

“I’d love to, Noah.”

That day I rushed back from work like I’d never had before. I probably hit a multitude of traffic violations, but knowing that I would be coming back to the love of my life, knowing that she would be there not just today, but that she was going to be there every morning when I leave and every evening when I come back, knowing that I get to build my life with her, felt indescribable.

I was finally coming home.





Bonus scene


Charlie


I spent the whole week after 4th of July going to morning training sessions, mostly to keep an eye out on my girls, not to actually coach them. The off-season at Riverstone University was really quiet. This was my fourth summer here and only now did I get some recruitment responsibilities passed on from a senior coach and they were still limited to three short trips in August. July was looking really calm.

The weeks that I even had work I was off at 12 or 1 and was still able to live life fully. Right after my shift I would usually find time to have lunch with Lola, at least not on her show’s filming days. Because I haven’t seen her for a while, thanks to her multiple booming businesses, which I was in strong support of, I really needed some girl time. And of course, she needed the 411 on the Willow trip, how my mom was doing, how Vicky was acting and well… how Noah and I turned from old friends to new friends to lovers. And as always, she was my biggest support and cheerleader.

“Oh my god, that’s the cutest thing I’ve ever heard!” she screamed with excitement, turning heads at our favorite coffee shop. “Did he really tell you he loved you since you were little?”

“Yeah, but not in an inappropriate way,” I defended.

“Well, duh. That wouldn’t even cross my mind, you were both kids. You had innocent crushes on each other. Trust me, I’ve seen it with Leah, so I know what I’m talking about.” Leah was Lola’s youngest sister and a benchmark for her understanding of what was appropriate. I loved the Rivas family, but you’d be hard pressed to find an average Jane or Joe among the bunch. Leah was the closest to it, I suppose.

“Right.”

“So… I’m not gonna say ‘what’s next?’ because I know how much you hate that. But like… Do you have plans for this week? Are you gonna be seeing each other more now that you’re officially together?”

“I’m sort of moving in with him…” I said carefully.

“Wait, what?” Lola exclaimed with excitement.

“Yeah. I don’t know. It just… feels right. For the first time in my life. He just feels like home.” I responded plainly.

“Oh, Char! I’m so happy for you!” she squeezed me to the point of pain, but I missed it like crazy, so I didn’t have the heart to tell her it hurt. “Okay, so when am I gonna finally meet this Hunter? I’ve got time on Wednesday!”

“Oh. I’ll set something up but not for Wednesday. It’s the second one of the month, so I’m bringing him to bingo!”

“Oh gosh! You’re really testing him, huh? Mrs. Norris is going to devour the poor boy! She has turned into a real animal since Herbert decided to ‘go steady’ with Betty. You will have to fight for your man.” Lola was well-informed on the senior bingo group’s shenanigans, especially some of its more vivacious members’.

“We both know that fighting with Mrs. Norris is a losing game. No way, no how. But I have a feeling he might not want to let me go… Just a hunch.”

“Oh, stop it, you. Too cute! Too cute!”

We chatted until somehow lunch was over and we both needed to get going. I promised Lola I would introduce them soon since she was the sort of big sister I always wanted to have and I knew that she would fiercely protect me if Noah stepped out of line. She made sure to mention it at least ten times before we parted. I think her protective instincts only grew stronger after hearing what happened between me and Vicky and my plan to severely limit our interactions, which were already minimal. I was glad to have someone so supportive on my side. Even two someones now. And maybe with time I could add my mom to the list as well.

***

That evening Noah picked me up from my apartment I started to pack up slowly and drove us to the seniors’ center. We made it just in time for the 6 p.m. bingo session. I really didn’t expect his plan of turning his 6 to 12 into a 9 to 5 succeeding this quickly, but he somehow managed it.

“What should I expect? I’ve never done this before.” He sounded more nervous than usual.

“You know I’m not telling you anything. You have to trust me.” I tried to loosen him up a bit.

“Well, I know we’re hosting bingo but nothing more than that.”

“Just enjoy the moment. I will tell you everything you need to know.”

“Okay…” Noah was still hesitant but excitement started to poke through.

“Oh!” I stopped in my tracks, turned around and put my hand on his chest stopping him too, somewhat dramatically. It seemed fitting. “Do NOT let Mrs. Norris entrap you. She will eat you alive.”

“Which one is Mrs. Norris?”

“Oh, you’ll find out soon enough,” I responded mysteriously.

We walked into the hall, me saying hi to the regulars and Noah walking confidently behind me pulling all the focus to his strong arms carrying a tray of cookies I made for the occasion. I liked to bring something sweet to add to the refreshments provided by the old folks’ home. I made it to the stage, which was what we called the one and a half feet higher platform built at one end of the room.

The round tables were filling up, so Noah and I started setting things up in the center. He was going to be my board-man, which I was yet to tell him. But that was far from the biggest surprise of the evening. The biggest surprise was of course Mrs. Norris.

“So, where do you want me now?” he asked once we settled a little.

“If you could distribute these…” I handed him a stack of bingo cards. The dabbers were already set up in the middle of each table, so all we needed before we could start was Noah making his rounds with the cards. He started at the left side of the room passing out papers to everyone and making small talk with some regulars who were pleasantly surprised to see a new face. Once he made his way all the way down and back up on the right side, he finished with the infamous table number one. Mrs. Norris’ table. This was worth all the wait, because no one was as pleasantly surprised with the “fresh meat” as her.

“Oh, hello, handsome…” she purred and looked Noah up and down, ready to pounce. And she wore cheetah print to match the energy.

“Hello, ma’am,” he responded, flashing his pearly whites at her. This was all the invitation she needed.

“I don’t think I’ve seen you here before, young man.” Noah now passed all of the cards and was ready to come back to the raised stage, but she wouldn’t leave him be. “I would remember a handsome face like yourself.” She was shamelessly running her hand up and down his arm, gently scratching with her nails manicured in red. “You aren’t spoken for.” She continued, more as a statement than a question.

“I am. Sorry, ma’am. You see that gorgeous girl right there?” he pointed at me and beamed. “She already has my heart.” He pulled her hand off him, kissed it gentlemanly and headed towards me.

“Charlie, darling! I didn’t know you got married,” she told me running up behind him as frantically as her age would allow.

“I’m not married, Mrs. Norris.” I smiled already having some idea where this was going.

“Well, then this gentleman lies through his teeth. He said he’s spoken for. But I see no rings, no marriage license. That hardly means anything.” She was still making eyes at Noah. Her looks conveyed innocent flirtatious nature mixed with vicious hunger for his body. I could relate. “Surely, you can show a lady a good time,” she persisted and jutted out her hip which I was 50-50 on being replaced a few years ago.

“Oh, yeah. And I’m ready to do it, right here, right now,” he started and looked at both of us with that mischievous smirk. We were both staring with our mouths hanging open in surprise. “I believe we’re about to start the first round, aren’t we, honey?” He pulled me toward him and kissed me on the cheek. “I hope you have a really good time playing bingo tonight, Mrs. Norris. Good luck!”

He stared at her now, standing his ground, still hugging me close to his side. Mrs. Norris had no choice but to accept this rejection and walk back to her table with a sour expression. I haven’t seen her quite this defeated since Herbert.

“Wow!” I turned to him and whispered. “You really are something special.”

“What, like it’s hard?” he laughed.

We spent the next three hours cranking the squeaky bingo machine and reading out the results, which Noah wrote down on a big board, one - to make sure everyone knew what the combination was (I don’t think I need to mention we had some hard of hearing folks) and two - to keep track of the results in case we got a bingo. Which we did. Eleven times! This was our record and many of the visitors attributed it to Noah’s presence. By the end of the night he was called their collective lucky charm.

It was really sweet seeing him interact with everyone. He immediately fell into the rhythm of the event and started making jokes here and there with the regulars. When we were cleaning up I had multiple of them ask me where I’ve been hiding him and if they should expect him next month.

“I think he’s gonna stick around for a while,” I told them, hoping it was true.





Epilogue


Noah


“Are you almost ready, Char?” I asked, trying not to sound like I was hurrying her up. I might have been. The sooner we could leave, the sooner I could stop lying to her. It has been eating me up inside for weeks now and I had been on the brink of spilling the beans at least three times in the past few days. But somehow, I controlled my urges.

“I just need to grab my phone.” She wandered around the apartment we now shared in only a towel wrapped around her luscious locks, completely unhurried. She came out of the shower just a second ago and her freckled body was glistening with little water droplets. Instead of toweling off and getting dressed, she floated from the bedroom ensuite, to the kitchen to put the kettle on and then to me on the couch.

“And probably get dressed?” I asked jokingly, relishing in her softness and warmth straight from the hot shower. Suddenly, I regretted not stepping into it with her.

“Are we in a hurry? I was gonna make some tea,” she asked, crawling closer and resting her head on my lap. The way she was looking up at me melted my heart on this cold December afternoon.

“No, love. I just wanted to know if I should get changed soon. And I was thinking we could get gingerbread hot chocolates from our favorite spot?” Her face lit up in excitement. I kissed her nose and pulled her closer to my chest.

We had “The Holiday” on in the background, inviting us to get started on our Christmas decorating. I was about to become a proud part-owner of my first Christmas tree in this apartment. I’ve been living here for a year and a half but haven’t seen the point in decorating the place before. Now, I craved it. But actually, if tonight went well, I wouldn’t be decorating this apartment.

Ever since Charlie moved in four months ago I had been slowly falling in love with the plethora of stuff she had. My office slowly turned into a hobby room housing all of our supplies for knitting and crocheting we continued to do. Well, it was definitely still more Charlie’s hobby than mine, though I enjoyed it for a bit too. My dexterity and patience weren’t quite ready for the trials and tribulations of unruly yarn art. But I tried.

I have gotten a bit more into cooking though. With weekly dinners and a heaping helping of help from Charlie I was now able to make a mean spaghetti (from dried pasta and premade sauce, let’s be real here), scrambled eggs and incredible sandwiches. I was working my way up to a pizza. I needed to redeem myself from that magnificent failure during our cooking lesson with nonna and nonno, but I hadn’t improved that much since then. I was still pretty great at reheating leftovers and ordering out though.

We sat through Jude Law and Cameron Diaz meeting for the first time as he almost pissed on her porch and I felt Charlie pulling away. Ordinarily this would have been the time for me to pull her back and recreate the seduction scene, but I was a man on a mission.

The sooner we left, the sooner this would be over.

So I just slapped her naked buttcheeks and let her get dressed. A few minutes later we were pulling our shoes on. She pinned her hair with a rich red bow matching her emerald green sweater and a red skirt that sparkled when she twirled. She looked like a vision of festive joy. Perfect for the Christmas tree picking I told her we were going to. I went for a simple shirt and sweater combo on the top and nice olive green pants on the bottom. I was hoping not to give myself away too much by dressing up, but I also wanted to put more effort than one might for the occasion. I had a feeling she might remember this day.

“I can’t believe you didn’t get a tree last year!” Charlie said as we neared the car. “Do you have all the… equipment?”

“Char, don’t worry about it, okay? Your job is to find the prettiest tree, with the strongest smell and that’s slightly too big for our place. I got the rest.”

“Too big?” She was certain it was a joke. But it wasn’t. What I was about to show her necessitated a slightly … actually, a significantly bigger tree. But I couldn’t say more.

“Don’t worry about it.” I kissed her, knowing this torture would end soon. I tapped my pockets one more time to make sure everything was in order and we went on our way.

We drove to our beloved coffee shop that became the hangout spot for Lola and us and got a couple of hot chocolates.

It felt like an honor to be invited to the Sunday brunches that used to be reserved as “girl time”, but I didn’t always use the invitation. I knew how much Charlie valued having her bestie’s support and undivided attention, and I didn’t want to impose on them. The fact that Lola insisted on Char bringing me sometimes though was one of my top accomplishments of the past months. I was ecstatic that Lola was on board with my plan too.

As we sipped the hot chocolates, we were coming closer and closer to the location of my surprise and farther away from the Christmas tree farm. After five minutes or so, Charlie started to catch on. My lies had to continue.

“Isn’t the farm that way?” she pointed towards the rear window.

“Yeah…” I forgot to think this part through. “Evan asked me to pick something up on the way. Sorry I didn’t mention it sooner, it must have escaped my memory. Would you mind? It won’t take long.”

“No, it’s all good. I just got confused as to where on Earth we were going,” she laughed. Not telling her killed me.

We drove for another five minutes and landed somewhere outside the city but with excellent connections to all of our favorite places. I checked that thoroughly beforehand. As we neared our destination the forest around us thickened and the buzz of the city quieted down. I turned into a tiny road that looked like it went nowhere.

“Is this really Evan’s place or are you about to murder me and leave me here in the forest for wolves?” She kept on joking, but her confusion grew. But then the gorgeous rustic-looking cabin came into view. She gasped and her jaw fell. I took it as a good sign.

“Noah! You didn’t tell me your friend had taste! This is such a stark contrast to that awful Lambo.”

“Yeah, I guess a Lambo doesn’t really fit this aesthetic.” I admitted on a laugh . “Do you wanna see inside?” I went for nonchalance, not letting my volcano of nerves erupt.

“How is that even a question? Of course I want to see inside!”

My hands were shaking and sweating profusely, so I pushed them into my pockets and asked Charlie to follow me. With an unstable grip I slid the keys into the lock and clicked it open. As soon as I did, a familiar warmth and rustic scent hit me. It was a mixture of sugar cookies, fresh fire and cedar beams. I let Char lead, with a slight bow. She walked in shyly, but her eyes were twice their regular size.

I clicked the soft lights on for the entire space that I had programmed exactly for this moment. Without prompting, Charlie slipped her boots off and left them near the entrance. I could tell she found the space too precious to muddy up with her boots, but I was hoping it wouldn’t last long. I wanted her to feel comfortable here. I followed her lead though.

She took two shy steps towards the lit up space that was obstructed by a wall made up of a collection of large raw stones with thick grout lines in between. When she peeked behind, her jaw fell even more and she looked back at me with awe and slapped me on the arm.

“Are you kidding me?!” she exclaimed in a stage whisper. I just smiled in response.

We moved deeper inside revealing an open space kitchen and living room area with two stories floor to ceiling windows that overlooked a small garden. The kitchen on our left was huge. It stretched in an L shape, hugging a long island with tall chairs on the outside of it. It had two state of the art ovens, a six-burner gas stove, a pot filler and what Charlie didn’t know, a pantry hidden behind one of the cupboard-looking doors.

The space was meticulously optimized for storage and convenience and I would know because it took me a while to find an expert who could help me with this, seeing as I was still a total noob in the kitchen. I snuck in and inconspicuously opened the nearest drawer to pull out the tiny box I had Evan store there and shoved it in my pocket without being noticed.

Moving on to the right side, the living room was basically a sofa that stretched over the majority of the sunken space. The couch looked impeccably comfortable and again, it was because I picked it myself, and faced the fireplace that was set up by Evan before our arrival.

“Come on, you can come closer!” I joked when I saw her stunned and frozen in place scanning the house like she couldn’t believe her eyes.

“I’m scared I’ll break it.”

“Break what?”

“Like… anything. This place is so perfect!” She took a few steps towards the kitchen. “What if when I touch it it all disappears?”

“It won’t, trust me,” I laughed and pulled her closer. “Do you wanna see the rest of it?” I asked with a ton of hidden hope and pride at how well it has been going so far.

“Again, how is that even a question? But wait… Wouldn’t we intrude? Won’t Evan mind?”

“I have a feeling he will be okay with this,” I giggled under my nose a little, knowing well that Evan wouldn’t mind me walking around my own house.

I showed Charlie around the upstairs bedrooms and bathrooms, and brought her downstairs to the cozy theater room, gym and finally the pool. This was one of the selling points for me and I was banking on it convincing Charlie to fall in love with this place as well.

“And a fucking pool ?!” she squealed when she saw it. “I hate him,” she added jokingly. I almost had to drag her back upstairs to the main level. We sat on the couch for a second “to test it”.

“So, you like it?” I asked, pulling her close and sinking in deeper.

“It’s awesome. No joke, probably the most beautiful house I’ve ever seen in my entire life.”

“Yeah? Where would you put the tree if it was yours?”

“A Christmas tree?”

“Yes, Charlie. A Christmas tree…” I was scared shitless and so fucking in love.

Char jumped up from the couch and looked around with her hands on her hips in contemplation. “Probably there!” She pointed into the perfect corner that was so empty it almost begged for a tall pine or fir to be placed there and perfume the whole first floor.

“I agree. Let’s do it!”

“What do you mean ‘let’s do it’? It’s not exactly our place to tell Evan where he should put his tree,” she giggled giddily, completely not understanding what I was trying so poorly to convey.

“Oh, Charlie…” I sighed quietly and reached into my stuffed pocket. She was still locked onto the empty corner, so she didn’t notice when I got up off the couch and kneeled behind her. “Love?” She turned around and her jaw dropped for the twentieth time this evening.

“Oh my god!” she screamed.

“Charlie, my love. Ever since I saw you that day in Oceanside I couldn’t stop thinking about you and no, it wasn’t because of your half naked body. Although, can I just say? Wow!

“I still pinch myself every day that I get to call you mine, that I get to wake up next to you and go to sleep holding you close. You have shown me how to enjoy my life, how to relax but also how to be vulnerable and real and I don’t want to ever find myself in another situation where I don’t tell you how much I love you.

“I love you more than words can explain. It may seem early, but I have dreamed of the life that I get to live with you now and I don’t want to ever let that go, let you go. Char… Will you marry me?” I looked up at her and opened the ring box revealing a tastefully sizable diamond I was hoping she would like. Her whole face was covered in a steady stream of tears.

“Oh gosh, Noah. Of course! Yes! Yes, I will!” She jumped at me with a sensual kiss and I pulled her off the ground as I stood up. Fuck yeah, she said yes! Well, she said yes to that one thing. But I had a feeling the second one might be an even easier sell.

When our lips parted I found the ring again and slipped it on her finger. It suited her. She thought so too judging by the wide smile and admiration in her eyes.

“Do you like it?”

“I love it! And it fits perfectly!” She was beaming, thinking I meant the ring.

“How about the house? Do you like the house?”

“Noah.” She stilled. “You didn’t do anything stupid, did you?” Her face fell.

“I might have done something stupid.”

“No-ah!”

“I guess this is the second surprise of the evening. It’s ours if you want it,” I said and pulled out the two sets of keys already adorned with small crochet hearts I worked insanely hard on and even still they ended up only okay.

“Are you serious?” Her face must have hurt from the most intense smile I’ve seen her wear.

“Only if you love it. If you don’t love it, it was just a joke.”

“I love it. And I love you, Noah.” She jumped on me with another kiss.

“I love you too, Char. Now, let’s get that Christmas tree, huh?”





THE END





Acknowledgments


Hey, can I freak out for a second? I can’t believe that you are holding my book in your hands. It’s been a labor of love to get it to this place and I couldn’t be happier that it’s done. I hope you enjoyed it. Thank you so much for picking it up!

I also would like to thank some of the people this wouldn’t be possible without. First of all, thank you to my wonderful husband who has always been my biggest cheerleader and inspiration. You are the reason I write love stories.

I would also like to thank my mom who has encouraged reading since I was a kid and has always supported my dreams. I wouldn’t do this if it wasn’t for the stories I read back then, thanks to her.

I also wanted to thank my friends who agreed to start a book club with me that one fateful fall evening because it reignited my love for reading and thus writing. Dominika, Irena, Nina - you are all powerhouse women who made me feel at home after relocating to a whole new country and trying to build my life from scratch. Thank you also to all my friends back in Poland who have been extremely supportive during this process. Sorry for keeping this book a secret for so long.

I would also like to thank Emily Henry, Ali Hazelwood, Ashley Poston, Penny Reid, Christina Lauren, and Lynn Painter for writing such beautiful, fun, and inspiring stories that I found myself not only desperate to read anything and everything under your pens, but also wanting to pick up one myself. This book would probably not exist if it wasn’t for women like you.

And lastly, I want to say thank you to everyone who decided to pick up this book. Whether you’re my husband, friend, sister, 4th cousin twice removed or even a stranger (imagine that!), the fact that you took time to read this book (I hope you’re not just skipping the story to the acknowledgements, who does that?!) is insanely valuable to me and I do not take it for granted. You are the reason I published this story.





Note on the author


Sophie Rose is a lover of love and Western pop culture, originally from Poland where she studied English Literature and Linguistics, and Psychology. Currently, she’s building a life with her husband and two occasionally cuddly kitties in Slovenia, which she now considers her home.



“Home Again, With You” is her debut novel.





Stay in touch:

www.instagram.com/sophieroseauthor

www.sophieroseauthor.com