12. CHARLOTTE
12
M y heart bleeds for the boy next to me while he drives us back to my house.
It’s his eighteenth birthday. The birthday that marks the end of your childhood, the start of your adult life, the one that means you can make your own decisions from now on.
It’s what every single teenager waits for. The moment we can stick up our chin and show the world we’re all grown up.
Yet, he didn’t feel the need to celebrate it.
With an ill mother, I’ve had to do a lot of things that no kid should. It made me grow up faster and gave me a sense of responsibility that’s made me different compared to other kids my age. But while my mother still tried to give me the best childhood she could, always finding moments where I could just be a little kid, there was no such thing for Hunter.
The end of Hunter Hansen’s childhood happened the day the car accident killed his brother and father. He lost his entire family and his innocence in one day, and it’s killing me to see it.
It’s killing me to see and hear him talk like he doesn’t matter. That his life doesn’t matter, when in reality, he has quickly become one of the most important people in my life.
Hunter pulls up to my driveway, and we both exit the car. It’s still warm out for an October night, and I look up to my mother’s bedroom window out of habit, sucking in the night air .
“Is your mom up?” He gives me an insecure look that makes me chuckle. He just knocked out a man double his size, but fear flashes in his hazel eyes, thinking about meeting my mother.
“Probably not, but she won’t bite if she is.” I try to bite back my chuckle, but his cute expression has it slipping from my lips with ease.
“Shut up.” He gives me a playful shove as we walk up the porch steps, and I put the key in the front door to open it.
We step inside, the scent of the fresh roses on the hallway side table calming my senses. I love it when my mom buys fresh flowers for the house. It enhances that feeling of home every single time I walk over the threshold. I quietly look around the empty living room as my feet travel toward the kitchen.
“It’s kinda scary,” Hunters states. When I turn around, he’s slowly wandering my way, taking in my entire house.
I’ve never taken a boy home. I’ve always felt hesitant because no one was ever important enough, but also because I never really know what state my mother will be in. I’d expected to feel more uncomfortable, bringing Hunter into my house. But seeing him standing there, resting his shoulder against the wall with the moonlight illuminating his features, it just fits. It makes sense.
“What is?” I flick on the kitchen light.
“How our houses are identical from the inside. Just yours actually feels like a home.” My skin pebbles at his confession.
I throw my keys on the counter, placing my hands on the cold marble surface.
“You know you’ll have that one day, right?” My gaze locks with his as uncertainty washes over his face. Another deep breath makes his chest move slowly, gnawing on my insides.
“I don’t know.” He shrugs, shaking his head a little. “I’m not sure that’s in the cards for me, Charls. I’m not exactly husband material. Let alone dad material. ”
He can’t hide the desire to be called dad one day, because it’s dripping from his expression. He wants it all. He just doesn’t think he can have it.
“Just because your mother doesn’t give a shit doesn’t mean that one day you won’t have a family of your own. You can. And you will always be a better parent to your own kids than your mother ever was to you.” My face is stern, and his eyes bore into mine, thinking over my words. With a heavy breath, I hold his gaze, thinking for just a second that his eyes are glistening with unshed tears.
He’s a tough one. He proved that tonight. Hunter Hansen is not easily cracked, but I hate that he’s willing to settle with his broken heart, not even trying to mend it a little.
Finally, he drags his hand over his face. “I guess.”
I bite my lip in frustration, swallowing the words about his mother that are on the tip of my tongue, because I don’t want to ruin his birthday. How dare his mother forget about him. I get that losing a loved one can tear you apart, and I know that even living with that idea is devastating, let alone actually experiencing it. But I hate the woman for forgetting the boy who is still alive.
“You will,” I blurt, conjuring a loving smile. “Why don’t you go outside, and I’ll grab us something to drink?”
“Alright, babe.” He disappears through the door that leads to the screened porch, and I watch him take a seat in the lounger before I open the fridge to find out what we have.
Glancing through it, I notice a bottle of rum laying on the top shelf, along with some ginger beers.
Perfect.
I pull two tumblers out of the cabinet, filling them with ice to the rim, splashing two fingers of rum in them, then topping them off with some ginger beer. I quickly grab a lime from the fruit basket to cut two wedges and throw them in for garnish.
Now I just need something that can pass as cake.
I peek my head into the storage closet, moving it from top to bottom, looking for anything suitable. An excited squeak leaves me when I notice a bag of Pink Snowballs next to a small package of birthday candles, and I quietly thank my mom for always having birthday candles in the house. Throwing them on the counter, I grab the two tumblers, carrying them onto the porch.
“What’s that?” His brows furrow together as he eyes me walking toward him with a big smirk on my face.
“A Dark ‘N’ Stormy. Duh.” I hand him one while putting mine on the table, then turn around to get back inside.
Reluctance showers his features, that polite and well-raised southern boy coming right out as he glances back inside, as if my mother will pop out any second.
“Babe, it’s my eighteenth birthday. Not my twenty-first. Plus, I don’t like what that does to my head.”
It’s cute how mannered he acts compared to the bad boy I know, and I twist my frame, pulling a face, calling bullshit.
“I know. And I’m not planning on getting drunk and manhandling you…”
An eyebrow quirks up at me. “You’re not? Because if that’s the promise, I’ll happily get drunk with you.”
“Don’t flirt!’ I bark out in command, a smile sneaking through, still holding out his drink. “One drink, Hunt. Have one drink with me.” He stays silent, and I pop a hip. “I know you don’t drink much, but you can’t bullshit me and tell you’ve never had a drink in your life.”
“Of course I have,” he hisses, “but not when your mother is around.”
“Relax, she doesn’t mind. Sit tight, I got one more thing.” I run back inside, putting the candle in the Pink Snowball, before I reach into the drawer for some matches and light it. With my lips tugged up, I walk back outside as I start singing softly.
“Happy birthday to you.
Happy birthday to you.
Happy birthday, dear Hunter.
Happy birthday to you.”
With every step, his eyes grow wider, and his lips curl a little more. When I stop in front of him, he’s looking at me in complete awe.
My spine shivers under the intensity of his gaze as if he can control my body with just the movement of his thick lashes framing his eyes. He takes in a deep breath with unspoken appreciation, then drags his teeth over his lower lip, shaking his head.
My focus stays on his full lips, causing a flutter in my stomach as I swallow hard to push the feeling aside.
“Come on.” I push the Snowball closer to his face. “Make a wish.”
“Charls. You didn’t have to do that.” Maybe not, but the look in his eyes tells me that it’s worth doing it anyway. I want him to know that he matters. That he makes a difference in the world. Especially mine.
“No, I know, because you didn’t even tell me it was your birthday,” I sass, pushing my tongue out. “If it was up to me, I’d be throwing you a party right now. But this is all I can do with thirty minutes’ notice.”
His expression darkens, and I squeal when he grabs my wrist. He tugs me onto his lap while I hold the Snowball in the air to keep the candle up. Suddenly, his warm breath feathers over my cheeks, and a whiff of his citrusy, woodsy cologne still seeps through the sweat from his fight, teasing my nose, making it hard for me to think. I want to bury myself in his chest, emerging in the safety of his arms, but instead, I keep our eyes locked, not moving an inch.
“This is perfect. You are perfect. Thank you.” His eyes move back and forth, drilling into mine, and for a second, I think he’s going to kiss me. I want him to. I want to know how his lips would melt into mine. If they would be the trigger for an explosion that has been building in my stomach for weeks now. But I can’t . I dip my chin to the Pink Snowball in my hands.
“Make a wish, birthday boy.”
He smiles, breathtaking as always, turning his face toward the candle to blow it out. I pull the candle out, then take a bite with a smug grin.
“Hey! That’s mine.” His calloused fingers pinch my side, and I squirm on his lap.
“I know, but I couldn’t resist. You took too damn long.” I let my back fall against the cushion to create some distance between us while I grab my tumbler from the table and take a long sip to calm myself down. My legs are still on his, and he starts to stroke my ankle in gentle rounds. Soft. Torturous. Only making me want more.
I don’t want to ruin what we have, and considering Hunter’s reputation, that will probably happen if we take this any further. But the aching sensation between my legs tells me I’m not convinced about that decision. Not to mention, the chemistry we clearly have. I’ve only had one boyfriend in my life, and I was madly in love with him. Lucas lives in the next town and he was a junior when I was still a sophomore. We met at the local carnival, and we were together for a year. We had a lot of fun and he’s the guy who took my virginity. In fact, if his parents didn’t decide to move to the other side of the country, we’d probably still be together. But even though he was the perfect first boyfriend, and I was heartbroken about him leaving, we didn’t have the same chemistry I have with Hunter. Everything with Hunter is… natural and heated at the same time.
We both settle into the lounger, sipping our drinks while we look out into the yard.
“What did you wish for?” I give him a quick glance.
“I’m not gonna tell you.”
“What? Why not?” My tone moves up a few inches.
“Because it won’t come true if I tell you.”
“That’s bullshit,” I bellow.
“Nah-ah. I’m not telling you shit.”
“Oh, come on!” I poke my elbow into his side, breaking out in a hushed laugh, clearly not wanting to wake up my mother.
“What the fuck, Charls? You’re really violent today.”
“Well, that’s what you get when you take me to one of your fights. I get all hyped up, wanting to punch something too.” I take another sip with a cocky look, feeling the cold liquid move down my throat.
“You know I can take you, right?” He moves toward me with one of his smoldering expressions crossing his face.
“Stop flirting with me.” I roll my eyes, ignoring that same flutter that grows worse every minute of the day.
“Fine,” he concedes, not even hiding his glee.
“Tell me what you wished for,” I demand again.
“Tell you what. When it comes true, I’ll tell you.”
“Alright, I can live with that.”
“Good.” He moves his arm around my neck, tucking me against his side, and automatically, I lay my head against his chest, enjoying the comfort of his body against mine. I could stay like this forever. Spending my nights with him, just hanging out. Talking. Teasing each other. Him flirting with me. Me scolding him for it.
In such a short period of time, he’s truly become one of my best friends .
And no matter what, I’d like to keep that.
“What y’all doing?” The door opens with a screech, and my mom steps outside, wearing her bathrobe and some slippers. She looks alright, considering I left her too exhausted to put her nightgown on, even though her face is marked with fatigue. Her skin is pale, her lips a little burst, but nonetheless, she brightens the night with her smile.
Hunter clears his throat, then quickly removes his arm from my body. I straighten my back, throwing my legs in front of me as he tightens with discomfort.
“Hey, Mama.” I give her a smile while I glance at Hunter, who’s swallowing awkwardly, as if he’s getting an unexpected audience with the queen. I like that he apparently feels the need to make a good impression on my mother. “It’s Hunter’s birthday. I’ve made us a cocktail to celebrate.”
“Evening, Mrs. Roux.” Hunter gets up to offer his hand, and she happily takes it before wrapping him in her arms as if she’s known him his whole life. Tenderly, I watch it happen in front of me, biting my lip to hold back my grin. I didn’t expect my mother to reply any other way, but it still warms my chest.
“Well, happy birthday, Hunter. I hope my daughter has been nice to you?” Her southern drawl is way deeper than mine, bringing out that charm that has its way of drawing people in. I nod in response, refraining myself from rolling my eyes at her, while they let go of each other, and Mama takes a seat in the armchair in front of us.
“She has.” Hunter beams, now that she clearly made him a bit more at ease. “Even got me a Snowball with a candle, sang me a song and everything.”
“Did she now?” Her eyebrows move into her hair as her gaze finds me and a smile splits her face.
“I did.” I shrug, then throw Hunter an accusing look. “I would’ve done more, but I can only do so much when your friend forgets to mention it’s his birthday until thirty minutes before midnight.”
His shoulders slump with guilt. “I told you, I never celebrate my birthday.”
“Why is that, Hunter?” Mama asks while she reaches her hand over the table, silently asking for my drink. I hand it to her, then get up and go back to the kitchen to make another one.