Chapter 7 #2
Pete: It’s Dec 2nd. We only opened to the public just over a week ago
Charlie: I keep forgetting it’s still early. Every time I go downstairs, it feels like it’s almost Christmas
Charlie: Send me a pic whenever you put yours up then
I bite my lip as I read his message. At this rate that might be when he’s already gone back. Will we still be doing this then?
I type my message three times before hitting Send.
Pete: And if it’s not until after the 13th?
His reply isn’t immediate like the others have been, and I know he’s picked up on what I haven’t said outright.
When he finally responds, I hold my breath as I open the message.
Charlie: I’ll still want to see it.
Warmth fills me with those six words. He wants to keep in touch after he leaves. Is that a good thing? I have no fucking idea. Probably not, if I’m being honest. But that’s a problem for future me. It also makes my decision about Friday easier.
Pete: I’m meeting some friends at your pub on Friday night. Want to join us and save me from being the fifth wheel again?
I hit Send, then worry it sounds like a date.
Pete: As friends, obviously
Charlie: Obviously
I can’t tell if he’s being sarcastic or serious or . . . Ugh, I hate texts sometimes.
Charlie: Yeah, I’d love to. But I was hoping we could get together before then. I’m going a little stir crazy
Oh.
I mentally check through the next couple of days.
Pete: Tomorrow works best for me. I can pick you up about 2pm and we’ll go for a walk. How does that sound?
Charlie: Cold. I didn’t bring a thick coat. Didn’t think I’d need one
Pete: I have plenty. I’ll bring you one
I like the idea of him in my clothes way too much.
Charlie: It’s a date
Charlie: Sorry. You know what I mean
The way my breath catches then deflates is a big red flag.
One I’m going to wilfully ignore.
I know this is going to end, I know it’s not going any further than friends, but fuck me, I haven’t felt this alive in ages. And I’m not giving it up, no matter how much that’s going to bite me in the arse later.
Pete: I know what you meant. See you tomorrow
I have to stop myself from adding an x at the end. I don’t know why I almost did.
The weather takes a turn for the worse the next day.
Typical.
I spend half the morning looking out the window, debating whether to call off our walk or not, but by some miracle, by lunchtime, the clouds shift and patches of blue sky appear.
It’s still bloody freezing, though, and before I leave to meet Charlie, I nip back home to fetch the warmest coat I have that I think will fit him.
I text him to let him know I’m on my way, and when I pull up in front of the pub, he’s already waiting outside.
Shivering.
“Why are you outside?” I ask as soon as he gets in the car. Instead of turning the engine off, I let it idle to keep the inside warm.
He shivers again, putting his hands in front of the vents. “I knew you were almost here and I didn’t want to keep you waiting.”
“It’s cold out there.”
He laughs. “Yep. Didn’t really think it through.”
His cheeks and nose are bright pink, his hair windswept, and he smells of fresh country air. I want to lean in and kiss him so fucking badly.
“So,” he says, pulling on his seatbelt. “Where are we going?”
“Er . . .” I’m regretting the walk I’d picked for us to go on right about now. “Actually, there’s a lovely walk that starts from the back of the pub car park. I was gonna suggest we do that one, but—”
“No, that’s fine.”
“You sure? I thought it’d be easier, that’s all, but if you want to drive elsewhere, we can.”
He puts his hand on my thigh. “No. Don’t change your plans. I just assumed we’d have to drive somewhere, that’s all.”
I can’t help but glance down. He hasn’t moved his hand, and it might still be cold to the touch, but it feels like fire in my veins where he’s touching me. “If you’re sure,” I say softly, trying not to draw attention to the fact his hand is still there.
“Yeah.” He gives my thigh a squeeze, fingers stroking dangerously close to the outline of my cock. I suck in a breath, and he seems to realise what he’s doing and snatches his hand back. “Shit. Sorry.”
There’s a good chance of things getting awkward and I don’t want that. “Don’t worry about it.” I open my door and as I’m getting out add, “I love hiking with a hard-on.”
There’s a beat of stunned silence, then Charlie’s loud laughter fills the car.
Thank fuck.
I duck back in and grin at him. “What footwear have you got on?”
He lifts one foot, showing me a decent pair of walking boots. “I’m not totally useless.”
I give him a pointed look. “You didn’t bring a coat. In December.”
He gets out of the car and joins me at the open boot. “I brought a coat. Just not one warm enough to go walking in.” He rubs his hands up and down his arms and I hurry to grab the one I’ve brought for him.
I hold it out, and Charlie slips his arms in first, then pulls it close and zips it. “Oh my god, that’s so warm.”
It should be, it cost enough when I bought it.
It’s a little big on him but snug enough it’ll keep him toasty. He holds out his hands, fingers peeking out of the sleeves, then looks at me. “This can’t be one of yours. You’d never squeeze those shoulders in here.”
I straighten a little at what I think is a compliment. “It’s an old one. I’ve filled out a bit since then.”
“I’ll say,” he mutters, and I’m not sure if I’m supposed to hear or not, so I let it go.
I pull my own coat on, and fish the hat and gloves out of the pockets. “Have you got some of these?” I hold them up so he can see.
“Oh, yeah.” He reaches around to his back pocket and pulls out a black beanie, followed by a pair of gloves that have me smiling like an idiot.
They’re black wool with little green Christmas trees on them. I gave him those gloves eleven months ago in almost this very spot, and he’s not only kept them, he’s brought them with him.
I’m not sure if that means anything.
I am sure that I want it to.
And also that I shouldn’t.
“You kept them?” I look up to meet his eyes. He holds my gaze for a second or two and my heart skips a beat.
“Yeah.” He shrugs. “They’re my favourites. You’re not getting them back.” As if to prove a point, he quickly pulls them on and tucks his hands in his coat pockets. My coat pockets.
I chuckle at him, ridiculously pleased by all of this. “They look better on you.”
He snorts but doesn’t disagree.
“Ready?” I ask, shutting the boot and locking the car.
“Lead the way.”