Chapter 9
CHARLIE
“What is this one about again?” Charlie asked, finding himself standing in the middle of the romance book section later that day.
The book that she had shoved into his hand as she reached for another revealed little other than the shirtless man embracing a scantily clad woman on the front cover.
Sam had provided little information as she continued stacking books into the basket that she had grabbed on their way in.
She was on a mission, it seemed, and he was just there for the ride. Though, he wasn’t sure he’d have it any other way if it meant she continued looking as positively exuberant as she did now.
Charlie was much more of a mystery reader, with the occasional fantasy thrown in for good measure, so his exposure to romance novels was limited.
His only knowledge of them was through Sam, who went through them like candy and would excitedly try to explain them to him once she would finish, so he had to admit that he was curious.
When she’d been explaining everything to him that morning, he hadn’t wanted to admit that he had tried to do some research of his own the night before.
Hoping to find some light reading material that might help him in this new role of his, as he had to admit that being a fake boyfriend was out of his circle of knowledge.
He had managed to stumble on a few titles that seemed popular on social media and downloaded a few for him to read in his free time.
It wasn’t much, but it was a step in the right direction if he wanted to do this right.
He had to admit that proposing this whole fake-dating arrangement between the two of them had been a spur-of-the-moment thing, but he was finding the whole situation exciting.
But, oh God, when she’d talked about what things she was willing to do with him, he’d had to adjust himself in his seat to prevent her from seeing exactly what effect that declaration had on him.
The fact that she’d said she was open to kissing him, much less anything remotely sexual down the line, and he’d had to restrain himself from throwing her down onto the table and immediately having his way with her.
He’d become accustomed to the occasional flaring desire like that over the years, but it felt as if a bottle of soda had been shaken up and the cap was being torn open now.
“That one is a popular forced-proximity romance from what I read online,” she finally said excitedly, tossing another book onto the stack. “I wanted to get a few titles that would align with some of the topics that I’ll be touching on to get a good frame of reference.”
“Uh-huh,” he said, his eyes roving back to the cover in front of him, “and shirtless guys throwing women over their shoulders is a good frame of reference?”
Sam glanced at the cover with a smile. “Hey, don’t knock it until you try it. Who knows, that romantic lead could be an absolute stud and not just a long-haired Fabio.”
He held up the cover next to his face, pouting his lips to mimic the fuller lips of the man on the cover. “Do I meet the qualifications of a romantic lead now?”
She laughed as she rose from where she had been crouching, leaving her basket on the floor and rolling up the sleeves of her pale-green button-up shirt—a color that perfectly complemented her eyes.
The garment hung loosely on her frame, obscuring whatever contours her body held beneath.
Unlike the pair of skinny jeans that accentuated the gentle curve of her hips in a way that…
Charlie cleared his throat and distractedly picked up another book on the shelf, as if it had caught his attention.
She gently pushed past him to venture further down the aisle. “You joke, but these older covers have some deceptively good material in them.”
“I don’t doubt that. I’m just not sure why Fabio has to be shirtless on the front?”
She laughed again and turned to look up at him. “It was just a trend at the time. The trend now is cartoon covers. See here? Most of these have some variation of a cartoon couple on the front.”
As if to prove her point, she handed him another book. It was a top-down view of a beach scene with a woman holding up a book over her head while the man sat back on a towel. Simple but effective.
“I think I like these better,” he said, flipping the book over to scan the blurb. “It’s a bit more subtle.”
“I think I do too. I love that old adage, don’t judge a book by its cover, but clearly, whoever said that wasn’t in publishing,” she mused as she flashed him a wide grin.
It was a smile so purely her that Charlie couldn’t help the surge of affection it created. It made him want to touch her, even in a small way, just to get even a fraction of that light bubbling out of her in droves.
She was in her element here. One of the places she felt most herself, most at home.
It reminded him of the countless hours that they’d spent at the dingy little library they had back home.
The one so old and decrepit that it was nearly falling apart at the seams, but that somehow only managed to add more character to it.
It had been both of their sanctuaries when they were teenagers, when being home was the last thing either of them had wanted to do—instead getting lost in the worlds created by others.
And now, standing there and watching her excitedly pointing out books, he couldn’t help but smile and silently thank his lucky stars for this opportunity, however strange it might’ve been. Anything just to help keep that light inside of her alive.
He knew she didn’t feel the same way he did about her. She’d made that apparent years ago, but that didn’t matter. He was pretty sure there would never be a day that the sun didn’t rise and set in Sam’s eyes.
“Show me more, then,” he instructed, bringing himself back to reality and reaching to take her hand in his. He used his other hand to scoop up the basket off the ground and pulled her along behind him, heading to the next aisle.
Her mouth opened as if to protest, but instead, she closed it when he laced their fingers together.
Her hand felt so much smaller in his than he thought it would.
Her fingers were always so long and slender, delicate and pale, as if she’d taken special care not to mark them in any way to preserve her writing capabilities.
It was silly, probably, to think that way, but when he’d spent so long wondering what they would feel like, it made those finer details more readily apparent.
But now he simply liked how her hand felt in his.
How, despite the fact that she was tall herself, his hand engulfed hers.
“What else are we looking for?” he prompted, lowering her basket back onto the ground for her to have easy access.
A touch of pink colored her cheeks as he looked down at her, and he couldn’t ignore the irresistible urge in his gut to tease her. “Oh, don’t tell me Miss Smut-Writer is getting embarrassed because she’s getting her hand held?”
Sam’s face immediately scrunched, and her brows furrowed together.
“Shut up,” she grumbled. “It’s not like this is the first time I’ve held your hand, asshole.”
Even grumpy, she was the cutest thing he’d ever seen. “I know. Then your fake boyfriend holding your hand should be a breeze, right?”
Despite her sour expression, a hint of a smile cracked through to the surface. “You’re the worst.”
“I know, the absolute worst. That said, however… I’m literally begging you to be honest with me if something I do makes you uncomfortable, okay?
I mean it. No being brave and toughing it out, deal?
” he instructed, giving her hand a firm shake with his and all but refusing to release it unless she asked him to.
She rolled her eyes. “Alright. I won’t.”
“Promise?”
She groaned, but the smile betrayed her. “I promise.”
Charlie eyed the stack of books in her basket. By his count, there were least half a dozen there. He did the math and made sure his wallet was in easy reach for when they eventually headed to the front to check out. No way was he letting his fake girlfriend pay for these on their first outing.
He was going to have a little too much fun, he feared, calling her that.
“Are you even going to read all of those? Seems like a lot to read in such a short amount of time.”
She shrugged. “Probably not, but it wouldn’t hurt. Might help me with any future books I write—if I decide to write more romances at least.”
“You’re the expert,” he teased, nudging her shoulder with his affectionately.
“Well, if I were the expert,” she replied, nudging him back, “I wouldn’t need your help, would I?”
He chuckled as she bent back down to browse more books on the bottom shelf closest to her. As she did, a notification chimed from his pocket. He placed the book in his hand on the nearest shelf and dug his phone out, seeing the text message displayed on the screen.
Peter said that you’re already trying to back out
If I have to do it, you have to as well
Please don’t make me drive over from Raleigh to beat you up
Charlie suppressed the eye roll that threatened to surface, knowing he should’ve called his mother after he and Sam had agreed she would go with him.
Relax, Tyler, I’ll be there. But I’m still not doing the auction
Don’t be an ass about this
I can’t, I have a date. Mom said we didn’t have to do it if we went with a date
You got a date?
Charlie looked over to check on Sam, seeing her busily retrieving another book.
Yes, am I not allowed?
You are, just surprised is all
Who is it?
Nosy
Do I know this person you’re supposedly bringing? I swear to God if you’re just making this up to get out of the auction I’m gonna deck you
Charlie sighed, rubbing the tension suddenly building between his eyebrows.
Yes, you know her, now can you drop it please?
Ah, I see
Tell Sam I said hi :)
Charlie shoved his phone back in his pocket with a quiet, aggravated grunt. He made a note to call his mother after he got home.