16 #2
Ryan: On my way.
By the time I pulled up outside the ABC apartment, rain had turned the street into black glass beneath my headlights. Charm ran from beneath the tiny overhang with her purse over her head, wearing jeans, boots, and one of my hoodies beneath a jacket that wasn’t doing shit to keep her dry.
I unlocked the door. She climbed in quickly and slammed it behind her.
“Holy shit.”
I looked at her soaked hair. “You own an umbrella.”
“It’s upstairs, and I wasn’t staying to watch them hash it out.”
“Helpful.”
“I stayed for some of it to make sure we didn’t need police intervention. Once Easton showed genuine remorse and Aura stopped looking like she wanted to remove his organs, Bliss and I decided we wanted out.”
The tension inside me remained too thick for laughter.
“I didn’t realize Michigan was attempting to drown me when I asked you to come.”
“You texted while it was already raining.”
Charm looked toward me. “I was distracted.”
“By other people’s relationships?”
“He showed up with his heart on his sleeve and wanted to talk.”
I pulled away from the curb. “Sounds healthy.”
“I think they’re making up.”
“Good. Maybe they can start ruining their own nights again.”
Charm laughed, but I didn’t. She noticed quickly, and her smile slowly disappeared.
“What?”
“Nothing.”
“Ryan.”
I kept my attention on the road. “Don’t start that shit.”
“What shit?”
“The thing where you say nothing like your jaw isn’t trying to break itself.”
“I’m driving.”
“You can drive and be annoyed simultaneously. You’re very talented.”
Normally, that would have gotten me. Tonight, it didn’t.
Charm shifted in the passenger seat. “Are you mad at me?”
“No.”
“That sounded like yes.”
“I’m not mad that you asked me to pick you up.”
“Then what are you mad about?”
I looked at her briefly. “We’ll talk when we get home.”
Her entire posture changed. The tiny tightening through her shoulders gave away the automatic preparation for somebody to be unhappy with her.
I hated seeing it. I hated knowing that this time, I was about to be the reason for it.
Reaching across the console, I put my hand on her thigh. “Stop.”
“I’m not doing anything.”
“You’re already trying to figure out what answer I want before I’ve asked the question.”
Her face turned toward the window. “Maybe I’m tired.”
“Maybe you lie badly.”
That brought her eyes back to me. “I do not.”
“You do to me.”
Rain beat hard against the windshield while the wipers fought to keep up. Charm went quiet, and I let the silence last approximately thirty seconds before asking the question that had been waiting since I picked her up.
“What happened at the dinner?”
Her head snapped toward me. “Seriously?”
“Yeah.”
“We already talked about it.”
“No, you talked around it.”
Her shoulders stiffened. “I told you they were upset.”
“You told me they were surprised.”
“They were.”
“You told me they needed time.”
“They do.”
“You told me your mom keeps apologizing.”
“She does.”
“And your dad?”
Her mouth tightened. “He’s trying.”
“Bullshit.”
“Ryan.”
“Bullshit, Charm.”
She folded her arms. “You weren’t there.”
“You didn’t want me there.”
“That was the point. I needed to do it myself.”
“And I respected that.”
“Then respect what I’m telling you now.”
“I would if I believed you.”
The hurt on her face landed exactly where I knew it would. I kept driving anyway.
“I’m not calling you a liar about everything. I’m telling you I know you’re lying about this.”
“You don’t know that.”
“I know you ignore your mother.”
“She texts constantly.”
“You used to answer constantly.”
“That’s called setting boundaries.”
“Good. What happened that made you finally set them?”
Charm didn’t answer.
I nodded once. “Exactly.”
“Can we leave this alone tonight?”
“No.”
Her head turned sharply. “No?”
“You heard me.”
“You don’t get to decide that.”
“You’re right. You can refuse to talk, and I can decide what your refusal means for me.”
Her face changed, and I knew she heard the boundary beneath my answer. I wasn’t threatening to punish or abandon her. I was telling her that pretending forever wasn’t an option.
By the time I parked outside my apartment, neither of us had spoken again.
Charm got out before I could walk around to her side. She ran through the rain and up the stairs while I followed. After unlocking the door behind her, I tossed my keys into the bowl.
She stripped off her wet jacket and turned toward me. “Fine.”
I closed the door. “Fine what?”
“You want to fight? Let’s fight.”
“I don’t want to fight.”
“You’re doing a great impression of someone who does.”
“I want you to tell me the fucking truth.”
“I have told you the truth.”
“You’ve told me the version that lets everybody keep pretending Thanksgiving isn’t going to be a disaster.”
Her face drained, giving me every answer she had refused to say aloud.
I pushed away from the door, forcing my movement to remain gentler than I felt. “What did they say, bebé?”
“Ryan.”
“What did they say about me?” I shouted, slamming my palm against the door.
Charm looked away, and a humorless laugh tore out of me. “I fucking knew it.”
“They apologized.”
“That wasn’t my question.”
“They said they overreacted.”
“Still not my question.”
Charm dropped her purse onto the chair. “My mother has called me almost every day.”
“I know.”
“She keeps saying she wants to give you a chance.”
“Then let her.”
Charm stared at me.
I stepped closer. “Let them give me a chance.”
“You don’t understand.”
“Then explain it.”
“They say they want to try, and then my father asks if I’m sure. My mother asks whether I’ve thought about what Flint means long-term. Then they apologize again and say maybe they judged too quickly.”
“So?”
“It’s exhausting.”
“I’m sure it is.”
“They’re trying.”
“Great.” My voice sharpened. “Then let them meet me.”
Her expression tightened.
“If they meet me and don’t like me afterward, I don’t give a fuck.”
Charm blinked. “You say that now.”
“I’ve had people hate me for less my entire life. Your parents aren’t special.”
“That’s not funny.”
“I’m not joking. I lived that shit on repeat for almost a decade. I don’t give one fuck whether Lance Harlen likes me.”
She started pacing toward the kitchen, and I followed.
“If they meet me and decide I’m an asshole, fine. I usually am.”
“Ryan.”
“If they decide they hate tattoos, hockey players, Mexicans, poor kids, foster kids, or whatever other category they want to shove me into, that’s their problem.”
“They’re not racist.”
“I didn’t say they were.”
“You implied it.”
“I listed the shit people have judged me for.”
“You’re doing exactly what you accused them of doing.”
“No. I’m telling you I don’t care which reason they pick.”
She stared at me.
“They don’t get to choose who I’m with, and they sure as fuck don’t get to choose who you’re with unless you keep handing them a vote.”
“That’s not fair.”
“Neither is this.” My voice rose despite my attempt to control it. “I have spent weeks watching you disappear inside whatever happened at that dinner.”
“I didn’t ask you to.”
“That’s the fucking problem, Charm. You don’t ask. You smile and tell me everything is fine. You send screenshots from Klein, tease me about being her favorite student, and tell me you miss me in Spanish while pretending this giant thing sitting between us doesn’t exist.”
“I’m trying to keep things good between us.”
“They aren’t good if you have to lie to keep them that way.”
Her eyes filled, and every instinct inside me tried to soften. I nearly let it happen until I remembered the nights I had stared at her through a phone screen, knowing she was hurting and allowing her to convince me not to push.
I shook my head. “I’m not backing off because you’re crying.”
“I didn’t ask you to.”
“You don’t have to. That’s how this always works.”
Her mouth fell open.
I scrubbed one hand over my face and stepped away before my temper got ahead of me. “I fucking love—” The word nearly escaped before I caught it. “I love what we’ve been doing.”
The room went still. Charm knew how close I had come to saying something else, and so did I.
I forced myself to continue.
“I love coming home to you. I love that your shit is all over my apartment. I love that you use my books, send me voice notes, and somehow turned my Great Lakes mug into your fucking wineglass.”
Charm wiped beneath one eye.
“I love that when I have one day, I know exactly where I want to spend it.”
Her breath caught.
“But I’m not doing this halfway forever.”
She stared at me. “What does that mean?”
“It means you need to decide.”
“Decide what?”
“Me.” The word struck the room hard as I stepped closer. “I don’t mean deciding whether you like me, want to fuck me, or miss me when I’m gone. We settled that.”
“Ryan—”
“You need to decide whether you’re willing to choose me when choosing me costs you something.”
Her eyes widened. “I have chosen you.”
“Then why do I still feel hidden?”
“We aren’t hiding.”
“The Frost knows because you kissed me beside their bus. Your parents know because you told them at dinner. Do Bliss and Aura know you called me your boyfriend?”
Charm stared at me, and the pause before her answer cut deeper than it should have.
“They know we’re together.”
“That wasn’t what I asked.”
“They know what you are to me.”
“Do they know I’m your boyfriend?”
Her gaze dropped.
A bitter laugh left me. “Fuck, Charm.”
“It hasn’t come up like that.”
“You live with Aura.”
“She has her own problems.”
“You talk to Bliss every fucking day.”
“I wasn’t trying to hide it.”
“You weren’t trying very hard to say it either.”
Her face crumpled. “It’s just a word.”
“Then why can’t you use it?”
“I did use it.”
“With me and your parents.”
“I kissed you in front of your entire team.”
“I know, and that mattered.” My voice roughened. “It meant enough that I’ve been holding on to it every time this starts feeling like some private life you visit when nobody else needs you.”
“That isn’t what this is.”
“Then tell me what it is.”
“You’re my boyfriend.”
My jaw clenched. “Say it to them.”
“I will.”
“When?”
“Ryan.”
“That’s what I thought.”