47. I like you honest but inappropriate.
47 /
i like you honest but inappropriate.
rafael
We spend Thursday morning working side by side at the dining room table; Charlie writing, and me answering emails and checking in with the team at Aegis. Though she’s put her contacts back in, I kept my glasses on. Contacts post-migraine are a big no for me.
When I take my call, I find Charlie peering over her laptop a few times. I pipe in with a few comments here and there, but I mostly listen to the call until the end, when someone asks if I have anything to add. “Yeah, thanks for asking, Miguel. I’d love to see if we can add a few more scholarships to the Dream Big Foundation fund. I’ll match whatever amount you think we can manage.” I see a few nods and continue, “Thanks, everybody. I know I sound like a broken record, but I appreciate the work you’re putting into this. I couldn’t do it without you all. I hope you know that.” I smile at the faces on the screen and find Charlie watching me with wide eyes. “And remember: Never play hide and seek with Asha and Sam. You can’t hide anything from the finance department.” I laugh and watch as most of them give me a pitiful laugh. “Have a great day, everyone.” I leave the call and close my laptop, finding blue eyes still fixed on me.
“Did you just make a finance joke?” She tips her head, and I instantly feel dumb for what I said. An accounting joke while sitting across from Charlie, of all people?
“Ugh. It was bad, I know. I just always like to close on a good note, and I couldn’t think of anything else.” I scratch the back of my neck.
“So, you always thank your team profusely and make jokes when you meet with them?” Her eyebrows raise in curiosity.
“Uh, yeah. I guess. Owen is the serious CEO, and I’m the one who makes jokes. It’s a good balance, I think.” My shoulders rise on a shrug, and I feel the self-consciousness creep in when she doesn’t respond. “Is that bad?”
“Oh, no. No, it’s just different. No executive at my firm has ever made a joke or said thank you during a meeting. It just—” She pauses, her brows furrowing in thought. “It doesn’t surprise me that you do, and it’s nice. You’re nice. To everyone.” With a small smile, she goes back to whatever she was doing on her laptop.
Nice.
She’s told me I’m nice before, and I don’t know what exactly that means. I don’t know if she’s trying to tell me something with this word, but I do know I don’t want to ask her right now.
“You hungry?” I settle on making lunch plans instead.
She places a hand on her stomach and looks up at me. “I am, actually.”
“How does a Greek salad with some grilled chicken sound? I checked the fridge, and I have everything I need for that.” She doesn’t seem repulsed by the idea, but I can tell there’s a debate happening in her head. “Or I can do literally anything else.”
She shakes her head and stands, her lips fixed in a straight line. “I just don’t want you to feel like you always have to cook for me.”
I walk to the other side of the table and watch as she paces back and forth for a few seconds.
“And I also don’t like red onions. But I feel badly telling you that because I don’t want to seem ungrateful.” She winces. Before she can say anything else, apologize or whatever it is she’s about to do because she thinks this is some kind of inconvenience for me, I stop her pacing with my hands on her arms.
I rub a few circles on her biceps. “I like cooking. I like cooking for you .” Giving my words a moment to sink in, I lower my face to hers. “And I don’t like red onions either. Especially raw. Gross.” I make a face, and her smile lifts her cheeks.
“You’re not just saying that?” Her eyes finally meet mine.
“I would never. You can check my pantry if you want. Not a single red onion in there.” I challenge her with raised brows.
She shakes her head. “All right then. But I’d like to help.”
“Yeah? Okay. Let’s do this, carrot cake. Let’s cut up some veggies!” I give her a little shake, and she responds with a giggle. Making Charlie giggle is my favorite thing to do.
“Okay, weirdo.” She rolls her eyes, and fuck, it’s nearly impossible not to throw her over my shoulder and show her what that eye-roll does to me. But we’re just hanging out today. As friends? I don’t know.
It turns out that just spending time with Charlie and keeping my hands off her is exactly as excruciating as I assumed it would be. I’ve thought about kissing her about as often as I’ve blinked these last few hours. I don’t know if she can sense my struggle because she doesn’t seem to be suffering from the same withdrawals. Of course not, though. This isn’t anything more than a practice run for her. At least that’s what she keeps telling me, and no doubt herself. But I’m not sure I’m buying it anymore.
By mid-afternoon, I’m finished with any work things I needed to accomplish, so I leave Charlie to concentrate on whatever she’s doing and excuse myself to get a workout in. I’m antsy as fuck, and I need to move my body.
After a warm-up and a very intense upper body workout, I decide I haven’t had enough and pull the skipping rope from the wall, using my usual playlist with mostly upbeat songs I can skip to. This and running are the two guaranteed ways to shut my brain off and exhaust my body enough to get rid of the constant fidgety feelings.
I don’t realize my eyes are closed until I hear her voice. “You’ve got to be bloody joking me.” It looks like she’s standing with her arms crossed, but I can’t see shit because I took my glasses off before starting my workout.
Just as I place them back on my face, she raises her hands, which are holding her phone, and snaps a photo. “I need proof of this. No one would ever believe you exist otherwise.”
“What do you mean?” I chuckle at her expression, not missing the slight blush on her cheeks and neck. “How long were you standing there?”
She hesitates, swallowing before lowering her hands, her eyes quickly raking over my body. “I mean, look at you. Backward baseball cap—I called it, by the way. I just knew you’d pull that shit off. You’re all sweaty, shirtless— again —and now you’ve just put those damn glasses on. Were you written by a very horny woman?” Her lips turn up in a cheeky smile as I walk closer to her. I don’t even realize I’m doing it until she tips her chin up to look at me. “And you’ve been back here just working out for over an hour? No wonder you’re made of solid muscle. Aren’t you tired?”
I can’t help it. I lean in to her and bring my lips just below her ear. “I’ve got more stamina than you’re giving me credit for, gata.” Her breath hitches, though she tries to hide it by clearing her throat. “I can go for as long as you need me to.” I straighten and, with one finger, push her chin up, forcing her mouth to close. “I’m gonna have a quick shower. If you need anything, you know where to find me.” With a wink, I walk away, adjusting myself in my shorts because, goddamn it, I’m always turned on around her.
I spend my shower fluctuating between feeling guilty for pushing the boundaries of what Charlie asked for today and feeling pretty damn proud of myself because if this were all just practice for her, she wouldn’t be having physical reactions to me like blushing and gasping. There’s no way.
We spend the rest of the afternoon watching only our favorite episodes of Friends on the couch, then we order dinner in and decide to watch season three because it’s definitely the funniest one.
At one point, Charlie asks me to pause it so she can go take out her contacts. It’s so completely mundane, and at no point in the evening do either of us touch one another, but I feel more connected to her than I have ever felt to a woman. Even sitting in silence two feet away from each other, the sense of contentment is entirely enough. And every time we laugh, we look at each other, and for a second, I wonder if she likes seeing me laugh as much as I like it on her.
Sometime just before midnight, I notice Charlie’s fallen asleep. I was hoping she wasn’t going to try to leave tonight, and she didn’t. I love that she was comfortable enough to stay, to fall asleep, even.
I try to pick her up without jostling her too much. I figure I can take her to my room, and I’ll sleep on a guest bed. I’m not about to make this weird by spending the night in the same bed as her again when she’s asked me for space.
She nuzzles into my chest and opens one eye to look at me. I kiss her forehead because, again, I can’t help myself. “You can go back to sleep. I’m just gonna take you to bed.”
“Mmm. Yes, please.” Her arm wraps around my neck, and she runs her fingers through the hair at the nape before her breathing slows again. Fuck. She’s not gonna make this easy.
Not bothering to turn on any bedroom lights, I lay her down on one side of the bed while I pull the covers down on the other, then pick her back up to tuck her in on her side.
Her side.
Damn, I like the sound of that. But it’s really just the side of the bed she slept in last night. That’s all it is.
Shaking my head at my stupid thoughts, I take her phone from my pocket and place it on the nightstand, then carefully remove her glasses and do the same with those. She put my shirt on again when she washed her face, but with leggings this time, which is a terrible shame.
Knowing I’m about to leave and not see her until morning, I take my time gazing at her, drinking her in. There’s a light on in the bathroom, and it’s just enough to illuminate her face. “Raf?” she whispers as I drape the duvet over her. “Where are you going? Come to bed.”
Fuck the guest bed.
I have never moved as fucking fast as I do now. I practically rip my shirt off and throw my glasses on the nightstand. The second I’m in the bed, she turns toward me, opening her eyes.
She starts to shimmy under the covers and then tosses something over the side. “Can’t sleep in pants,” she mumbles with a scowl that makes me laugh. She keeps moving before throwing something else. “Or a bra.” She sighs, seemingly content, and I nearly choke on air. And just when I was doing so well at not thinking about her naked.
Still coughing, I respond, “That’s okay. I can’t sleep with a shirt on.”
“I can see that,” she says as her eyes rake over my chest before she closes them again. “I actually thought of you more as the kind of guy who would sleep naked.”
“I normally do,” I admit, and her eyes open widely for only a second before she shuts them tightly. “You think about me naked, shortcake?” I wouldn’t have asked, but she brought it up.
“Far too often.” Her confession takes me off-guard, and I don’t respond. “Sorry, that was… well, it was honest but inappropriate.”
“I like you honest but inappropriate,” I say in a low voice that makes her laugh. It’s one I haven’t heard before, a little husky, and a lot sleepy. “In fact, I think we should amend our agreement to say we have to always be honest and inappropriate.”
“Of course you do.” She blows out a breath, opening her eyes, but just barely. “Can I be honest again?”
“You can always be honest with me, honey bun.” I bop her nose, attempting to ease her mind. Her giggle tells me it’s working.
“You did that while you were hopped up on meds, do you remember?” she asks and I shake my head no. “You nearly poked my eyeball out.” A smile overtakes her face when I laugh. But then her features turn serious again, and I brace myself.
“I really liked today. A lot. Being with you feels easy and fun.” Her brows furrow and I feel the but coming before she even says it. “But…” There it is. I hold my breath, not even wanting to make noise as she potentially ends whatever this is. “But I’m confused. I just… I don’t know what to do anymore.” She yawns, and I slowly let out my breath. “I’m sorry. I’ve been thinking about this all day, but I don’t think the words are coming out right.” Rubbing at her eyes, she sinks a little further into the pillow.
“It’s all right. You’re tired. Why don’t we talk about it tomorrow?” For the second night in a row, I prepare myself to sleep next to the woman I’ve fallen completely head over heels for. And for the morning to come so we can have a conversation I really don’t want to have.
She yawns again, nodding and letting her eyes remain closed this time. “Mmkay.” Her breathing slows almost immediately, but then she shifts again, snuggling into me, and after a few seconds of both of us shuffling around, her head is on my chest, her left leg draped over mine. It’s the sweetest torture.
“Goodnight, Charlie.” I kiss the top of her head, letting the smell of roses fill my nostrils.
She runs her hand over my chest and up to the back of my head, pulling me down as she reaches up. Her mouth covers mine, our lips fitting perfectly together as they always do. When we separate, she lets out a satisfied hum. “Goodnight, Raf.” She kisses my chin and lowers her head back down to my chest, which is suddenly feeling very tight. If she breaks this off tomorrow, I don't know what I’m going to do.