3volve

  I pile their dirty dishes in the sink to wash later. “Nope. Boss man gave me the day off because I was working doubles.”

  “Why are you working a double? You need the money?” he asks concerned.

  “Whoa. Don’t do that.”

  “Do what?”

  “Worry so much. You’ll get worry lines. Besides I need to save up for Christmas.”

  “I can help, just saying.”

  “I know. I don’t mind a few hours here and there though.”

  “Oh, hold on a moment okay?” he says, muffling the phone. But I can still hear a young woman’s voice on the other side.

  “Sure thing,” I say. Her voice moves from across the room he’s in, getting closer. I can’t make out what they’re saying, but I know it doesn’t sound like his savvy assistant. So who else could he be talking to, I wonder.

  “Sorry about that.” He clears his throat. “Work stuff.”

  “Work huh?”

  “I should be there soon, and I’m tired. So is it cool if I crash at your place? Hotels seem so dreary at the present.”

  “You’ve been tired a lot lately. Any particular reason?” I try to sound casual, but a little jealousy seeps through.

  “Yeah. I’ve had a lot of out of town trips.”

  “Uh huh. Well you’re more than welcome to sleep in my room. The boys have a tutoring session at the library. They should be back before you get here.”

  “Good. Okay, see you soon.”

  “Be safe.”

  “Sure thing love.”

  I hang up the phone, sitting at the empty table. If he were dating anyone, I’m sure he would tell me. Right? Yeah, totally. We’re best friends after all. I play with my phone, spinning it around on its side. Maybe I should call Nessa…. No, no. He wouldn’t keep any big secrets from me.

  ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

  The entire time I’m waiting for the boys to get home, I can’t stop thinking about Charlie—Charlie laying there in my bed. He probably took a shower and changed into those shirts, which highlight all the right areas. Okay, I really need to stop thinking of him on my bed shirtless.

  Or on my bed.

  But I’m still thinking of him when the front door jiggles open.

  “Hey.” He greets me with a smile like the one he always does, but this time it feels different. This time I want to reach my hand up and touch his lips.

  “Hey. You’re uh, in luck, the boys aren’t home yet.” I scramble to get the words out.

  “So then I have you all to myself.” Charlie pulls me towards him, resting his hand on my hip.

  I laugh uneasily but unmoving. “What did you have in mind?”

  His smile etches upwards in a slant, eyes crinkled, then finally says, “Food.” Charlie releases his hold on me and walks into the kitchen. “I’m starving.”

  He leaves me standing in the entryway shocked. What the heck just happened? I sigh, exasperated. “Food,” I mutter. I follow after him, kicking my feet at the air.

  Charlie is sitting on the bar stool, legs outstretched, tie loosened around his neck. And in so many ways he looks disheveled yet handsome all at the same time.

  “You should get some sleep before the little germs get here,” I say, sitting on the kitchen table.

  “Studying huh?” He takes a bite out of my Chinese leftovers.

  “It’s a new thing they’re starting.” I check my phone again for updates, but they still haven’t called or texted.

  Charlie’s phone starts ringing. Looking at the caller ID, he gets up, putting the plate in the sink. “I’m going to take you up on that nap before they get here.”

  “Oh. Yeah okay.”

  He squeezes my shoulder before walking upstairs and talking on his phone in hushed tones.

  The boys tumble inside, throwing their backpacks in the corner of the entryway. Lounging back along the couch, they close their eyes, pressing their temples. My, my, a few hours of studying and it’s like they’re trying to piece together Inception.

  “Germs, you okay?” I ask them, picking up their backpacks and hanging them on the hook where they should be.

  They groan, “Tell us we’re going to watch mind-numbing movies and eat chocolate covered everything,” Jeremiah says, stretching out his arms and gliding further into the couch.

  “I thought we were going to eat cheese-covered everything,”

  “No, no, he’s right. This is definitely a chocolate-covered day,” Jeremy tells me.

  “That bad huh?”

  “Worse,” they both say.

  I laugh at their slow, burning misery, “Okay, okay. Chocolate it is. Don’t wake up Charlie,” I say, walking to the kitchen.

  “Oh no worries, I’m not asleep yet. I heard chocolate was going to be involved down here.” He places a hand on my lower back.

  I shirk away from his touch.” I thought you were tired.”

  “I got a second wind. So what are we eating,” he says with a sly smile while reaching for the popcorn.

  Second wind my ass. He totally has something he’s not telling me. I know it’s about that secret phone call with that secret person, and all this secrecy is going to drive me crazy!

  I scowl at the inside of the pantry without answering him. I don’t know why he insists on coming every other weekend but won’t tell me why he has decided to become an entirely different person.

  “Do you want me to order some pizza?” Charlie grabs a menu off the refrigerator, taking me out of my head.

  I ignore his question again. The boys probably need some reliability in their lives, and I don’t know if having Charlie here so often is good for them. They might start relying on him more than me. What if they only put up with him because we’re friends? Oh man, I should have asked them if they were okay with him visiting all the time. Is this me being selfish again?

  He stretches out his arm to reach for the chocolate, but I snatch it out of his reach. “Why are you so tired?” I ask accusingly.

  “Mmm,” he takes a handful of chips. “I’m taking another business trip tomorrow. I’ll be gone for a few weeks.”

  “Are you ever going to tell me what’s really going on?”

  “I just did,” he winks, taking another chip. “Pizza?”

  “I’ll get it.” I lay the bowls on the coffee table. “Maybe it should just be us—family.” I squeeze his arm. I don’t want to see him go, but with the boys acting out like this, I don’t know what else to do.

  “Oh, sure. Well, I should be going then. Long flight.” He kisses my cheek, lingering a moment, “Be safe.”

  I turn my head slightly, but he already turned to grab his keys. “Be safe,” I tell him. Charlie nods on his way out.

  I yell upstairs, “Let’s get this party started boys.”

  They both come barreling down. The popcorn popping in the background, I grab some sodas from the fridge.

  “How about we watch a scary movie before our Burton marathon?” I hand them each a soda.

  “And order pizza?” Jeremy asks.

  “Sure. Pizza pizza,” I tell him.

  “Is Charlie coming back?” Jeremiah asks, throwing pillows on the floor. At this point the floor is more comfortable than the couch.

  “No, I told him it’s family night.” I pile three pillows against the couch and lay back, turning on the TV.

  “But he is family,” Jeremy insists, grabbing the controller from me and browsing movies.

  I turn to them, “So you want him to?”

  “Yes!” Jeremiah says.

  “Like duh!” Jeremy adds.

  Huh, wrong again apparently. “Fine, fine.” I run after Charlie and catch him before he leaves the driveway. I tap on his window, so he rolls it down. “Do you, want to come inside?”

  “For family night?” He smirks.

  “Yeah, about that, they both seem to think of you as family.”

  He pulls back up, turning off the car. Walking towards me, he says, an inch away from my face, “But you don’t think of me a
s family?”

  “I could never get around to that way of thinking.” I look away from him, uneasy.

  He rubs my clavicle, “And why’s that?” Charlie keeps rubbing his way down my arm, tickling it.

  I clear my throat. “We should get in and order that pizza.”

  “Way ahead of you,” he waves his phone, walking up the steps.

  “Of course you already ordered.” I roll my eyes while following him inside.

  When I get inside, all three are fighting over the control of which movie to watch first. Bodies are piled against each other, arms outstretched. It’s sad really, because obviously I’m picking the first movie.

  I skip over to them and snatch the controller out of Charlie’s hand, laughing at how easy it really is.

  Chapter 8

  Things have finally gotten back to normal, or as normal as it can be for us anyway. Things aren’t as awkward between Charlie and me anymore, or at least now he isn’t as weird.

  The holidays had always been a stressful time for Ma; she would call and pester me about coming over. And I would make up some excuse for not wanting to do it.

  But now—now, I’m going to make this Thanksgiving special. I’ve been cooking pre-trials before the big day all weekend, and I know exactly what I’m going to cook for the big day. Jeremy won’t be able to resist my much improved cooking any longer.

  I woke up before the sun to use the stove. If that doesn’t show commitment, I don’t know what will. And even now I’m starting to feel the irresistible pull of a nice night’s rest—but no! I won’t give in now, not before I can make them see I’m trying.

  Opening the oven to check on the turkey, I hear the sound of Chewbacca alerting me of a text. What if…no, no, I shush myself from thinking anything too negative. Charlie wouldn’t cancel.

  I swipe down to see his message, You better have cleaned, bc I have a buncha shiiiit coming your way. See you soon, lady love :)

  Such language, sir. I cleaned, like duh. See u soon. I hit send.

  Shoot I forgot to clean. I run around upstairs, throwing clothes into a huge pile on the bathroom floor and sliding everything against the walls and into corners.

  If procrastination were an Olympic sport, I would win gold. While I’m running around hiding everything under covers and behind closed doors, Jeremy and Jeremiah are just sitting in the living room unmoving. The only movement I see is when they reach for more cheese puffs. But even then, it’s ridiculous how lethargic they’ve been since getting home on break.

  I push their feet off the coffee table, “Charlie will be here soon. Maybe you can pick something to do?”

  “Sure, we’ll ask what game he wants to play,” Jeremy says, reaching for more cheese puffs.

  I throw my hands up in the air, muttering, “I walked into that one.”

  Charlie bursts open the door with a box in one hand and a shopping bag in the other.

  “Ooh let me help you with that.” I walk over to him, grabbing the shopping bag. And he laughs, throwing his head back, “Of course that’s what you help with.”

  I shrug, pulling out a floral scarf.

  “A gift ma’am.” He puts the box in the kitchen. Oh I hope that’s my coffee maker.

  I wrap the scarf around my neck, flipping it with more flare, “How do I look?”

  “Fabulous, darling,” he says, snapping his fingers and cocking out his hips.

  I laugh at his silliness, “It’s good to have you back.”

  “It’s good to be back. Cooking huh? You sure that’s the best thing to be doing?”

  “Har, har. Mock all you want. But you don’t seem to mind my cooking when you’re here eating all our leftovers.”

  “I’m usually sleep deprived; I’d eat just about anything you put in front of me.”

  I shove him playfully, pulling out my dishes and glorious coffee maker. I hold it up to my chest like a best friend I haven’t seen in a long time. Finally.

  “Would you two like a moment? Yeah, totally. I’ll leave you alone with your unhealthy addiction to caffeine, and I’ll put the boxes upstairs.”

  “That’s fine.” I look back to the coffee maker, “Sshh the bad man is leaving soon.” Charlie rolls his eyes like I’m the crazy one of us three. Whatevs.

  Charlie puts all my boxes upstairs, and I don’t know what I’m more grateful for, a coffee maker or clothes that aren’t all black.

  I leave them on the living room playing another iteration of the zombie apocalypse. Sitting on my bed, I fold my legs inward, looking at the stacked boxes in front of me: the convergence of my old and new life coming together.

  ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

  I know it’s selfish for me to want him to stay, but why should he go back to his parents? Because he started seeing some girl? Why should she affect anything, huh? We were friends way before she came along. I slam down my bottle harder than I meant to. Everyone looks up at me worried. “Sorry,” I laugh it off. “I wasn’t paying attention.”

  The three of them go back to talking about basketball, their faces lit up and smiling. Their annoying twinness is back in semi-full force after weeks trapped in despair and longing.

  Charlie looks up at me, his smile returning along with theirs. I return his smile and he lingers on me before going back to their conversation.

  Jeremy and Jeremiah stand up and pat Charlie on the shoulder, “See ya man,” they say on their way upstairs. At least one good thing came out of cooking food we’re going to have to eat for the next week—they are finally happier and talking to me. Progress! I smile at their retreating figures.

  “Do you want another beer?” I ask him.

  “I should really get back,” he says, clearing his throat.

  “Already?” I try to resist asking him to stay, but why should I? We’re just friends after all. It’s not as if I’m asking for anything else. Right?

  “I should get going before it gets too late. I’m tired already,” he says, standing up.

  “You don’t have to go, you can stay here. It is Thanksgiving.”

  He turns around to look at me, his eyes gazing at me looking for an answer. “Are you sure?”

  “Yeah. You shouldn’t have to drive back right now tired. You can stay in my room and I’ll—”

  “You shouldn’t be sleeping in there. It’s not good for the healing process,” he interrupts me.

  “I was going to say, I’ll bunk with the boys.” I roll my eyes at his insinuation.

  “Good.” He idles in the hallway. “I don’t want to kick you out of your room.”

  “You can’t sleep on the floor or couch. That couch,” I point behind me, “is older than both of us. Sleep in my room because it’s the lesser of two evils.” I reach for his hand but pull back unsure if I should or not, but what the hell. I grab his hand and pull him upstairs.

  “I’ll be fine,” he counters.

  “Men,” I shake my head and let go of his hand. We’re both standing outside my childhood bedroom. I don’t know why it’s awkward; it’s not the first time he’s been in my room. Ugh, get it together Cris. “I’ll get fresh towels.” I snap my fingers and walk to the hall closet.

  When I get back, he’s resting on top of the covers. He’s eyes are closed, and he looks gentle. But I know he can be serious and demanding when he needs to be. I put the towels down on my cajon and walk over to him. I always knew he was handsome—the desire of every girl in high school and college.

  I stroke his hair gently, coaxing him to sleep. He works too much and then he’s been commuting back and forth for weeks. I know he must be tired. I should have had him come to bed sooner; at least he would have had a shower. He moans softly and I pull my hand away, not wanting to wake him.

  But he reaches for my hand. “Why’d you stop?” he smiles. “If I can’t sleep on the floor, you shouldn’t either,” he opens an eye to look at me. “You should sleep here. It’s not the first time after all,” he closes it again.

  I chuckle nervously, “Uh…yeah…b
ut what about the girl you’re dating?”

  He opens both eyes, smirking, his dimples sinking in. “I might have exaggerated her existence.”

  “Oh.” Why would he want to do that? Unless, maybe Nessa was right about us. “Then…sure, I mean what’s the harm right?” I take off my shoes.

  “Exactly,” he stretches his arms outward, “Are you going to take a shower or get ready for bed first? I can wait.”

  “No, no. You should take a shower first. You’re the guest,” I pick up a towel and throw it on his face. “Don’t use up all the hot water or I’ll hog the covers.”

  He snaps his fingers, “There goes my diabolical plan,” he says grabbing the towel and heading to the bathroom.

  I fall back onto the bed. This. Is. Not. Weird. It’s a pragmatic solution to sleeping arrangements. I grab a pillow and scream into it.

  Instead of worrying about some silly situation that is all in my head. I get up and grab pajamas and another blanket. I pace back and forth around the room waiting for the shower to stop. I look at the pajamas I picked: striped pull-string pants and an oversized t-shirt. Totally acceptable pajamas, friend to friend. Still looking at the clothes in my lap, they’re all wrong. I shake my head and get up to grab another pair when I hear the shower turn off.

  Great, I don’t have much time. I rifle through my drawers until I see an old pullover in the back. Charlie gave it to me—okay, he didn’t give it to me so much as I never returned it. But it’ll do. Then I grab some boxer shorts. I look at both sets of clothes in my hands. One says, “You’re practically my brother.” The other says, “I know you’re my best friend, but I might like you.”

  The door opens before I can decide, so I stuff the “boring ol” pajamas’ between the seat cushions.

  Charlie walks into the room toweling his hair. “I see the knob is still hot for cold and cold for hot,” he laughs. “I remember when your dad got so mad at me when I turned the water on while I was standing in the shower. He said I deserved a shock because who turns on the water while in the shower,” he laughs again shaking his head.

  “I just remember you shrieking like a girl. You woke up the whole neighborhood.” I laugh aloud, covering my mouth so I don’t wake anyone.