Charlie
“You look fine, better than fine. You’re hot,” Lucy says from my couch, while absently petting Sofia.
“But like, not trying too hard hot?” I ask, still staring at my reflection.
She snorts. “I’m sure you could wear a paper bag and Hunter would think you’re hot.”
I nibble on my lower lip, turning slightly to check my ass in the jeans. They’re tight but not obscene, and the crop top rides up just enough to show the slight divots in my lower back when I move. I’m not usually insecure about how I look, but tonight feels different. It feels like a first date.
Not that I’m calling it that. He just said dinner to talk… not a date.
I run my hands through my curls one more time, making sure they fall the right kind of messy, then turn to face Lucy.
“Be honest.”
“Charlie, I have been honest. You’re just nervous.”
I let out a shaky laugh and sit on the edge of the coffee table, facing her. Sofia immediately abandons Lucy’s lap to climb into mine, purring like she approves of my outfit choices.
“I’m scared,” I admit quietly. “What if it’s awkward? What if he’s only coming to say he’s moving on for real? What if I look at him and all I want is to crawl into his lap and forget the last few months happened?”
Lucy reaches over and squeezes my knee. “Then you’ll deal with it. You’ve survived worse than an awkward dinner with the guy you’re still stupidly in love with. And if it goes well…maybe just let it.”
I nod, scratching behind Sofia’s ears. She headbutts my chest like she’s trying to push some courage into me.
“I just want it to feel right again,” I whisper. “Even if it’s different. Even if we’re different.”
Lucy gives me that soft, knowing smile she saves for when I’m spiraling.
“Then go find out. And text me if you need me to fake an emergency and come rescue you. Or if you need me to bring ice cream and wine later. Whichever one.”
I laugh, the sound a little less shaky this time. “I love you, you know that?”
“Duh.” Lucy grins, pulling me into one last quick hug. “Now go get your man. Or at least get some closure. Either way, you’ll look hot doing it. I’ll lock up.”
I squeeze her back, then grab my jacket and keys before I can talk myself out of leaving. Sofia gives me one last judgmental meow from the couch, like she knows I’m walking into emotional chaos.
The walk to the Thai place feels both too short and endless.
The cool evening air brushes against the strip of skin above my jeans, and every step makes my stomach flip harder.
I keep replaying our phone call in my head—Hunter’s rough, careful voice, the way he sounded like he was holding his breath.
When I turn the corner, I see him waiting outside the restaurant.
He’s standing under the warm glow of the string lights, hands in his jacket pockets, looking up at the sign like he’s trying to steady himself. The moment he spots me, his whole posture shifts—shoulders straightening, eyes softening in that way that always makes my knees feel weak.
He looks… amazing. Better than amazing, really.
The dark button-down hugs his shoulders just right, sleeves rolled up to show the scars on his forearms, and those jeans sit perfectly on his hips.
He looks climbable and lickable in equal measures, and I have to physically stop myself from speeding up and jumping into his arms.
Not a date. Not a date. Not a date, I chant internally. Do not maul him on the sidewalk.
My heart does a painful, hopeful little flip as I come to a stop in front of him.
“Hey,” I say, hoping my voice sounds steadier than I feel.
“Hey.” He smiles—maybe a little nervous if I’m reading it right—and his eyes trail down my body before coming up to meet my eyes. “You look…really good.”
Heat rushes to my face. I fight the urge to tug at the hem of my cropped top or smooth my hands down my thighs. Instead, I just smile back.
“So do you.”
We stand there for a second, the air between us thick with everything unsaid.
I can smell his soap and that faint hint of leather from his jacket, and it makes my stomach do another traitorous flip.
Part of me wants to step forward and press my face into his chest just to feel him solid and real again.
The smarter part of me stays rooted in place.
Hunter clears his throat, gesturing toward the door. “Should we…?”
“Yeah,” I say, relieved for the movement. “Let’s go in.”
He holds the door open for me, and as I pass him, his hand brushes lightly against my lower back, sending warmth rushing up my spine. I have to bite the inside of my cheek to keep from leaning into it.
We’re led to a quiet booth in the back. The moment we sit down, Hunter’s eyes flick over me again—slower this time, lingering on the strip of skin where my cropped top rides up.
“You’re really trying to kill me tonight, aren’t you?” he says. The corner of his mouth lifts in a half-smile I’ve missed way too much. “That shirt should be illegal.”
Heat rushes up my neck, but I lean into it instead of hiding. Being cheeky feels safer than letting the nerves win.
I tilt my head, giving him a slow, teasing smile. “You complaining, big guy? Or just stating the obvious?”
Hunter’s eyes darken, but there’s amusement there, too. He leans forward slightly, forearms resting on the table. “Not complaining. Just… appreciating. Loudly.”
The server comes by to take our drink orders, and I order an iced Thai tea while Hunter sticks with water. Once we’re alone again, he doesn’t pull back. His gaze stays on me, warm and steady.
“I forgot how dangerous you are when you dress like that,” he murmurs. “It’s distracting.”
I bite my lower lip, fighting a grin. It feels easy to fall back into the flirting, so I do. “And that’s a bad thing?”
He lets out a low chuckle. “It is when I didn’t come here with the intent to want to get my hands on you.”
Disappointment tries to filter in, but I push it away. I know that’s not what this is about. He said talk, after all, not make out or hook-up. Still, the way he’s looking at me makes heat curl low in my stomach.
I lean forward just a little, resting my chin on my hand, and give him my best cheeky smile.
“So what was your intent, then?” I ask, letting my voice drop into something playful. “Purely innocent conversation over noodles? Or were you hoping to stare at me the whole time like I’m the most interesting thing on the menu?”
Hunter’s eyes flick down to my mouth for half a second before coming back up. A slow, almost reluctant smile tugs at his lips.
“Something like that,” he says, voice quieter, a little rougher. “I wanted to see you. Hear how you’ve been. Maybe prove that I’m well on my way to healing.”
The honesty mixed with that hint of heat makes my stomach flip. I bite my lower lip, fighting a grin, and tilt my head.
“I can tell you wanted to see me, you haven’t looked away,” I tease lightly. “You’ve barely looked at the menu. Should I be flattered or concerned you’re going to order something weird because you’re distracted by my outfit?”
Hunter chuckles, low and warm, shaking his head. “Flattered. Definitely flattered.” His gaze drops to my mouth again, then quickly returns to my eyes like he’s reminding himself to behave. “You’re making it very hard to stay focused on ‘just talking,’ though.”
I lean back in the booth, crossing my legs under the table so my foot brushes his ankle, and I leave my foot against his.
“Good,” I say, voice playful. “I like keeping you a little off-balance.”
Hunter’s eyes darken, but the corner of his mouth stays lifted. He doesn’t pull his foot away. If anything, he presses back just enough to let me know he feels it.
“How have you been, Charlie?” he asks, softer now, genuinely wanting the answer.
I let out a small breath, the teasing easing into something warmer.
“Busy,” I say. “Pole class has been kicking my ass, but in a good way. Work’s been steady. I submitted another portfolio to a different gallery… and they took me on.” I smile a little, still proud. “It’s been a lot, but it feels like I’m moving forward. Slowly. One spin at a time.”
His eyes light up with genuine pride. “Another one? That’s amazing. Your talent is incredible.”
The sincerity in his voice makes warmth bloom in my chest. I duck my head for a second, biting back a bigger smile.
“Thanks. It still feels surreal sometimes. Seeing my stuff on actual gallery walls.” I tilt my head, letting a little flirt slip back in. “Especially when half the paintings are of this really intense, ridiculously hot guy I used to know.”
Hunter lets out a low chuckle, the sound warm and a little self-conscious. His gaze drops to my mouth again before he catches himself.
“Yeah? Sounds like he was lucky to be painted by you.”
“He was,” I say softly, holding his eyes. “Still is, I think.”
“God, you’re dangerous.”
“You like dangerous, remember?”
He takes a slow, deliberate sip of his water, watching me the whole time. “I do.”
The air between us thickens for a moment. Hunter’s foot presses a little more firmly against mine under the table, a small touch that sends a spark up my leg.
“You’re making it really hard to behave tonight,” he murmurs.
I grin, unrepentant. “Who said you have to behave? We’re just talking… and maybe a little flirting. That’s allowed, right?”
“Allowed? Yeah. Smart? Probably not.” He leans in just a fraction. “But I’m not complaining.”
We keep the rest of dinner like that—warm conversation mixed with light, easy flirting. Every shared look, every brush of our legs under the table, every teasing comment feels like we’re slowly finding our rhythm again. Seeing if the spark is still there.
And it is.
When the check comes, neither of us seems ready for the night to end. We step out into the cool night air, shoulders brushing as we walk toward my building. The flirting stays gentle, but the undercurrent of lust is still there, warm and alive.
At the bottom of my steps, we stop. Hunter looks at me for a long moment, like he’s memorizing me.
“I had a really good time tonight,” he says quietly. “Thank you for saying yes.”
“I did, too,” I reply, meaning it. “We should do this again.”
He nods, eyes warm. “I’d like that.”
We linger there, the space between us small but respectful. Then he steps back, smiling at me.
“Goodnight, Charlie.”
“Goodnight, Hunter.”
I watch him walk away until he disappears around the corner, heart full and fluttering and hopeful all at once.