Chapter 24
24
It looks like the junk food aisle has been dumped on the floor. There are open bags of chips and popcorn. Gummy bears. Chocolate-covered pretzels. A jar of peanuts. A half-eaten chocolate bar sits on the end table beside Nan. Both she and Charlie have glasses of what I assume is scotch. Rod Stewart is blaring. Nan looks like she’s fighting back laughter, and Charlie’s dimples are so deep they swallow the lamplight. His hand is buried in the bag of gummy bears. His smile falls when he sees me in the doorway.
I look around, dumbfounded.
“How much scotch did you two have?”
Nan giggles in a way that I’ve never heard. “It wasn’t the scotch.”
And then I spot the green leaf on the wrapper of Nan’s chocolate bar.
“Oh my god.”
“It’s not a big deal, Alice,” Charlie says, getting to his feet. He’s wearing jeans and a gray flannel shirt. His hair has some kind of product in it. He’s made an effort.
“You got my grandmother high ?”
“Don’t freak out.”
“Do not tell me not to freak out.”
Nan snickers again. “You’re in for some trouble, Charlie.”
“So are you,” I snap.
“Alice.” Charlie again. “Back off.”
I stare at him, gaping. “Excuse me? How could you sneak over here when I’m not around and bring my grandmother drugs?”
“I didn’t sneak. She asked me to. It’s a low dose. Very safe. And it’s legal.”
I look at my grandmother.
“I was curious if it would improve my sleep.”
“Why didn’t you tell me? I could have done something to help.”
“I didn’t want to worry you. You’re already treating me with kid gloves.” Her eyes are a little glassy and her tone is soft, but I bristle. I’ve only wanted to be helpful.
Charlie places a hand on my shoulder. I shrug him off.
Nan looks between us. “Well, I’m going to bed.”
“Let me help,” I say, reaching for her cane to pass it to her.
“No.” She gives me a hard look. “I’m fine, Alice.”
I pull back at her tone. I watch her until she’s in the bathroom, ignoring the pressure of Charlie’s gaze on my back. I stand there, without a glance at him, while Nan gets ready.
“Alice. Can you look at me?” Charlie says quietly.
I want to be mad at him. For hanging out with my grandmother without me. For the chip crumbs on the rug. For encouraging me to go on a date with his friend, and then infiltrating my mind all evening. But I don’t have to dig too deep to know what’s really bothering me. It’s the possibility that Nan and Charlie didn’t think I’d be up for a night of edibles and Ketchup Lay’s. That they think I’m no fun.
“Hear me out, okay?”
I take a deep breath and turn around. He’s standing far closer than I expected.
“Nan asked me to take her to the cannabis store in town after choir practice. I wasn’t trying to be deceptive. She’s been having trouble sleeping.” I didn’t know that. It explains why she’s been so cranky.
“The junk food was mostly for me,” he says. “I’ve been watching what I eat—sugar, especially—and I went a little overboard.”
I take him in. The collared shirt. The tidy hair. The apology on his face. I don’t know what to think about tonight. “Why are you dressed like that?” I ask instead.
He looks down at himself. “Like what?”
“Nice.”
His laugh is dry. “You thought I’d wear…what? A bathing suit? Sweatpants? To spend the evening with your grandmother?”
He opens his mouth to say something else, but his gaze rakes over me. My cheeks, pink from the wine. My hair, tousled from the breeze off the river. I’m still wearing Harrison’s hoodie. Something dark flits across Charlie’s eyes. Is he jealous? A surge of satisfaction rolls through me.
“You were out late.”
I shrug.
“How was the date?”
“It was nice.” I lift my chin, acting with confidence I don’t feel. “You were right—we have a lot in common.”
Charlie has gone still, but his eyes are stormy. “Oh?”
I can barely hear over the blood pounding in my eardrums. “I had a good time.”
His eyes descend to my mouth. “Cross off number five?” His voice is low, but I can hear the restraint in each syllable.
The two tumblers of wine have caught up to me. The week spent talking and swimming and staring at Charlie’s chest have caught up to me. I don’t think. I just lift the sweatshirt over my head and drop it on the floor. Charlie sucks in a breath, taking in the dress and my neck and shoulders. I shake my head. “No, not yet. Not with him.”
“Alice.” He says my name carefully, like he’s keeping it safe. I find myself moving closer. We stand toe to toe, near enough for me to see that Charlie’s pupils have swallowed the flecks of gold. I feel a finger coast along my thigh, and then it’s gone.
“Charlie.”
I set my hands on his stomach. I feel his body brace beneath my palms as he stares down at me.
“You’re a bad influence,” I say. “But I can be a bad influence, too.”
He doesn’t budge as I rise on my toes, bringing our chests into contact, soft against hard. Charlie’s eyelids snap shut, and he inhales through his nose.
“Alice.” He whispers my name.
“Do you want me to stop?”
My lips are so close to his that when he shakes his head, our mouths brush. I graze my nose against his and take his bottom lip between my teeth. It’s not my usual opening move, but I feel as if I could devour him whole. He tastes like gummy bears. A groan rumbles in Charlie’s chest, and then suddenly his hands are around my thighs and he’s hoisting me off the ground. The look in his eyes is a dare and a promise and other, more dangerous things. I lock my legs around his waist and cling to his shoulders, and when he adjusts his grip, I gasp at the hard press of him against me. I move my hips, because…
Whoa.
“Alice,” he grits out. “Fuck.”
“I’m still mad at you,” I say, staring into his eyes as I bring my lips closer to his. “But I’ll let you make it up to me because I like you.”
Charlie blinks. “I like you, too.” His grasp on me loosens, and he slowly sets me back on my feet.
“Then what’s the problem?”
He swallows. “We shouldn’t.”
“I don’t understand.” He was clearly enjoying himself.
“I’m sorry. It’s just that…” He looks around the room.
I’d forgotten about Nan. “Let’s go to the boathouse,” I say.
“It’s not that.” He stares at me with tortured green eyes. “I got carried away. I shouldn’t have let that happen. It’s not you,” he adds quickly.
“Then what is it?” My face is burning. I’m embarrassed, a little angry, and a lot turned on.
Charlie struggles to find an answer, but finally settles for, “It’s probably best for us to stay friends.”
I gape at him. “Friends?”
He nods, and I can’t help it, my eyes lower to where there is something very unplatonic pressing up against the fly of his jeans.
Charlie swipes a palm over his head, then gives me an inscrutable look. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Trouble.”