Chapter Seven #4
“You don’t have to know life without football just because you aren’t playing it professionally. I mean, I still play guitar and piano, even though it’s not my career anymore.”
Charles looks thoughtful, gaze boring into the fire like it contains all the answers to the universe.
I take pity on him and place my hand over his arm.
Without breaking his gaze from the fire, he covers my hand with his own, our fingers pressed together like I’d imagined just a few moments ago.
His skin is tanner than mine, probably a mix of genetics and lots of sun exposure.
My skin is pale, random freckles here and there, but when I look at our hands together, this feeling in the pit of my belly threatens to overwhelm me with its very existence.
How does Charles make me feel things after only a few weeks that I never once felt in my past relationship?
“Hello,” River says loudly, making me tug my hand from where it rests over Charles’. “The locals are restless. They want some showtunes.”
“I came to relax,” I shoot back.
River raises one elegant eyebrow in question. “You brought your guitar, so you can’t pull that one on me.”
I sigh and start taking my guitar out of the case as everyone else settles in around the bonfire.
Gilbert takes the seat beside River, earning him an absolutely murderous glare, but everyone else just chuckles at their well-known antics by now.
Perhaps in another life they were lovers, but in this one they’re destined to take the piss out of each other.
Kind of a beautiful thing, if you ask me.
Darkness falls over us as I strum the guitar, playing songs from the nineties that everyone knows and loves. I stay away from lovey-dovey songs because I’m not sure I can carry the weight of that right now. After ten or so songs, I’m tired and set the guitar aside.
Gilbert boos. I flick him off. Trish laughs her snort-laugh that takes me right back to high school.
Charles stands and disappears toward the bucket full of beer.
He returns a moment later with a beer for himself and what looks like a gluten-free cider for me.
My gaze flicks to River, who is watching the exchange like a rattlesnake might watch their prey.
I know that look. He’s in prime matchmaker mode right now, so I send him a glare before thankfully accepting the cider.
The first sip is cold, but sharp, so I lean back in my chair and take another sip, doing my best to get used to the taste.
“I figured the beer was a no,” Charles remarks, because somehow he’s become the expert on celiac disease in just a few days. “Right?”
“Most of the time, yeah. I don’t like beer much anyway.”
“More of a liquor guy,” Charles says in a perfect imitation of my voice. I tilt my head against the back of the chair to send him a mild glare, which only makes him laugh enough to warm my bones up after the cold cider. “Couldn’t resist.”
“What was it like growing up in Nebraska?”
“Endless cornfields,” Charles says with a hint of fondness.
“It was exactly as you’d expect, which also means they were exactly as welcoming to a queer kid as you’d expect.
Not that I ever said anything, but I knew my only way out would be football, especially when college scouts started showing up at my games.
Once I went to college, I never looked back. ”
“Were your parents mean?”
“Nah.” Charles tips his head back, throat bobbing hard on a swallow.
I wonder what his skin tastes like at the hollow of his throat.
Would it taste like a lightning strike? A summer rainstorm that lights up the night sky?
“My parents were your average conservative parents, owned a farm that stopped doing well over the years. The fact I haven’t heard from them despite my career says it all.
Forcing your kid to go to church three times a week, then not loving them when you realize they’re queer…
I’ve realized there’s a special hell for people like them.
I don’t miss Nebraska or my family. Over the years a lot of teammates became family, inviting me to holiday dinners, including me when they didn’t have to include me. That’s real family.”
I lift my cider in silent invitation to cheers.
Our bottles clink together and Charles’ grin is soft and happy, just the way it should always be.
A shiver rolls through me. Charles was right and the flannel isn’t enough.
Everyone’s quiet, all pensive and curious stares at the fire.
A hand drops on my thigh, and I look over to find Charles closer than he was, his warmth bleeding into me.
His thumb rubs the inseam of my jeans, not sexual, but something that is beyond friendly.
I can feel the flush work across my cheeks and down my neck.
At least the fire and cold is a good excuse for the flush, otherwise I’d get endless ribbing from River.
The night gets cooler, the fire warmer, and my eyes heavier as everything spins around me.
The fire crackles every now and then, splintering the low quiet hum of the evening.
One by one people leave, stopping by to pat my head like I’m their dog.
Finally, it’s just me, Charles, River, and Gilbert.
River waves away me asking if I can help clean up.
Charles and I leave quietly, but not without me looking over my shoulder to watch Gilbert help douse the final flames of the fire, his and River’s shadows lost to me in the pitch-black evening.
“You guys do those often?” Charles asks. I’m not able to make him out much in the dark, despite the front house lights being on. I can’t make out his features or the emotions he’s feeling that are usually so clearly painted across his expressive face.
“More often in the early summer.”
“Ah. It was fun. Maybe one day I’ll be able to play with you.”
“Maybe,” I agree as I hurry to unlock my car.
I put the guitar in the back seat, then open the driver’s side door, leaning against it as I soak in the perfection that is Charles Augustin.
He looks ever so warm in his hoodie, the kind of warmth that would surely bleed into me if I wrapped my arms around him.
“Good night,” Charles says quietly, voice a fracture under the starry sky.
“Good night.”
Charles hesitates but seems to gather the courage to reach out, his fingers dancing across my cheek, before he turns around and disappears into the night.
I stare after him, heart racing, wondering how many walls I’ll need to put up to protect myself against this man who has every chance to kill me.