46. I like messy. You’ve seen my trunk.
46 /
i like messy. you’ve seen my trunk.
rafael
When I look up, Charlie’s eyes are watery, and her lips are trembling, the corners pulling down into the saddest, cutest frown I’ve ever seen. God, I want to keep her and never let her go. And the sight of a single tear rolling down her cheek has me nearly falling to my knees.
Before I can rush to her and pull her into me, she raises both hands and takes a step back, the backs of her ankles hitting the bottom step of the staircase. “I-I-I-I’m s-so s-s-s-sorry. I-I didn’t m-mean to. I’m—” She’s shaking now, and I can’t keep my hands to myself any longer. I hug her tightly, her arms trapped between us, hands resting on my chest.
The sobbing wracks her body as I try to pull her closer. “Charlie, no, of course you didn’t. It wasn’t your fault.” I feel my own tears gather, but they don’t fall.
She yanks herself away from me, taking several steps away. “Yes, it was!” she practically screams. “It was all my fault. All of this.” She waves her arms in the air before curling in on herself. Her voice lowers as more tears roll down her face. “I made this huge mess, and now I have to live with it. ”
“No.” I keep my tone even. “I know you wouldn’t intentionally hurt me. I trust that. I trust you .”
“You shouldn’t.” A quiet sob leaves her as she starts pacing, hitting her forehead with the heel of her hand.
“Too bad. I do anyway.” I take two steps closer, and she doesn’t back away. “Whatever mess you think you’ve made, I want it. I like messy. You’ve seen my trunk.” I take another step, and this time, her sob is a half-laugh.
She’s still pacing back and forth, so I gently take her hand and place it on my chest. I inhale and hold my breath, then inhale again, fully filling my lungs, and then I blow out my breath through my mouth. She catches on and does the next cycle with me. We repeat this several more times, and I take her face in my hands, wiping away the tears that have stopped flowing. I hug her again, holding on to her tightly, letting the embrace settle both of us.
After a while, she sniffles, keeping her eyes down. “Do you think you can forgive me?”
“Nothing to forgive, pumpkin.” I kiss her forehead, hoping she can let this go and let me in.
“I’m asking you to. Please. Or this guilt will?—”
“Done. Forgiven. Forgotten about.” I kiss her head again, but she pulls back.
“Rafael, be serious.” Her adorably furrowed brows make me want to smile, but instead, I clear my throat and nod thoughtfully.
“I am serious.” I take her glasses off since they’re all fogged up and wet with tears. Pulling up the hem of her shirt—my shirt—I wipe the lenses clean, taking my time and lifting the shirt just a little higher than necessary so I can take in the red booty shorts she’s got on under there.
“You’re ridiculous,” she says, with a roll of her eyes. But I see the little smile playing at the corners of her lips.
I place the glasses back on her face, pouting when the hem of my shirt swoops down just above her knees. “You mean ridiculously handsome?” I snake my hands around her waist, nuzzling her neck—my favorite spot. “Ridiculously funny?” I bite her neck lightly, eliciting a gasp from her. “Ridiculously sexy?”
She giggles then, and like tectonic plates moving into place, we shift back into just being us again. “Your coffee is probably cold,” she taunts. But I know she’s enjoying this. Her little whimpers give her away every time I kiss or suck somewhere new.
“You’re right.” I straighten my body, and she whimpers for a whole other reason. “Let’s drink those coffees and see what Smitty made you.” I take her hand in mine, grabbing the drink tray in my other hand and leaning down to bite the top of the paper bag. I lead us into the living room, and we both plop on the sofa. She huffs in feigned annoyance and takes the iced coffee from the tray, taking a long pull from the cup before setting it on a coaster.
“Um, the kitchen is cleaned up, by the way.” There’s so much uncertainty in Charlie’s voice. Her hands rest on her lap, fingers entwined. “I got rid of everything last night,” she whispers. I look up from the obscenely large bag of food on my lap to find her eyes welling up again. She shakes them off, blinking a few times.
“When? You must have been exhausted after being at the hospital for hours waiting on me. Shit. I’m sorry.” I rub at a spot on my forehead, but I drop my hand when I hear Charlie’s laugh. “What’s so funny?”
“You. Apologizing to me. Stop. I was fine. I needed to get it done and make sure your home wasn’t a hazard to your health.” She takes another sip of coffee, seeming much more relaxed.
“Thanks for doing that. And staying with me. I don’t remember much, but I’m pretty sure I was being a whiny little bitch.” Like I always am when I get migraines. But I mean, they’re fucking awful .
She laughs again. “No, you were actually quite adorable. Mostly. A little needy, but I didn’t hate that part.” Her lips twist to the side, and she shrugs.
“Oh, ho ho ho. You liked it!” I set the bag of food on the coffee table, twisting to face her. I’m met with narrowed eyes and a very fake frown. “You did. You liked me being needy.” I pull her legs toward me, and she topples over, laying on her back. I lean over her, pushing one knee between her legs, a flash of red drawing my attention as the T-shirt she’s wearing pools at her waist. “You liked me asking for you.” I run my hands from her knees, up her thighs, along the edge of her panties. “Tell me it’s true.” She rolls her eyes again, and this time, my dick eagerly responds. “You like me begging for you. I didn’t know this about you, shorty.”
Her lust-filled eyes clear, and she scoots back, propping herself up on her elbows. “There’s a lot we still don’t know about each other.” Her words are clipped, and I can tell that, despite me wanting to bring levity to this situation, she’s not ready for that yet.
I sit back up, giving her space to do the same. “You’re right. But that’s kind of how these things work. You’ll probably never know everything about someone because we’re always changing, learning, and hopefully experiencing new things, right?” I don’t wait for an answer. “You know more about me than most people in my life.” I take the grilled cheese sandwiches and napkins out, noticing there are also two cookies at the bottom of the bag. “But I get that there are some details I’ve maybe left out, like my allergy to mushrooms. I’m not allergic to anything else, by the way. Are you? Allergic to anything, I mean?”
Charlie shakes her head. “No, no allergies that I know of. Have you always worn glasses?”
I smile at the question. “Yeah, since I was a little kid. I started squinting at the cereal box, and Vó took me to the doctor the next week. You?” I peek into each wrapper to see if they’re different. They’re not.
“Since I was little, too.” One side of her lips tip up. “Once I got over touching my eyes, I found contacts easier than having something hanging on my face all day.” Her head tips to the side as she studies my face. “I like glasses on you.” Those pink lips stretch into a smile, but just as quickly as it appears, it’s gone. I hand her a sandwich, which she takes from me, and when our fingers touch, she lingers there. “I’m sorry I’m so all over the place, I just?—”
“I know. Yesterday was a lot. I understand if you want some space.” I don’t want it myself, but I’m always going to give Charlie what she needs.
“It’s not that; I don’t think I need space. I think I’d just like to spend time together without thinking about the list, or practicing, or whatever. It’s okay if you have things to do, though. I can go home after this.” She opens the sandwich slowly, almost as if she’s unsure whether or not she should.
“I’d love for you to stay. I’m not going into the office today, though I have to sit in on a call later if that’s all right.” We both take a bite of the sandwiches. “Damn,” I say after I swallow. “That’s a good grilled cheese. Even cold.”
“Smitty might be my favorite man.” She moans around her bite, completely unaware of the effect that sound has on me.
I wait for her eyes to open and connect with mine. “I’m gonna have to change that, firecracker.” I take another large bite and watch the blush creep up her cheeks. I don’t push it any further, though.
Once we finish eating, Charlie insists on going home to shower and get a few things, like her laptop. I do much of the same. Shower, feed Pumpkin, make the bed, and fold the shirt Charlie wore to bed last night. I might never wash it again, and I don’t care if that’s a stupid thought.
She lets herself in through the side door, and I smile like the absolute lovesick fool that I am. “Hey, did you know that Pumpkin is outside?” Her eyes are wide with concern.
“Yeah, she likes to sit in the sun sometimes. She’ll meow very loudly and paw the door when she’s ready to come back in.” I chuckle at my temperamental cat, and Charlie visibly relaxes. I like that she cares about my cat. I like that she cares about me. I like that she’s here and that she let herself in. I like that one of my pillows smells like roses. I like it all. A lot.
“She just does what she wants, doesn’t she?” She giggles as she unloads a water bottle from her backpack.
“Pumpkin is an independent woman.” I pause. “Even if she can’t feed herself and has very particular living requirements I need to adjust to. I wouldn’t change a thing about her.”
“Hmm. She really is a lot like me,” Charlie responds absentmindedly.
Yeah. And I wouldn’t change a thing about you, either.