Twenty-Four
Three days later, with no word yet from Wes, she comes across an LSAT prep book buried under a pile of textbooks at the foot of her bed.
Flipping through the pages, she recognizes Wes’s handwriting in some of the margins, and when she opens the front cover, his name is scrawled across the top like they’re in elementary school.
Unless he has other materials, he hasn’t been studying. Given his dislike of the LSAT, she’s unsurprised. Part of her doesn’t want to return the book to him, but the other part—the louder, more insistent part—wants to clear the air. And to see him.
She knows she could text, but another part—smaller, quieter—fears he won’t respond. Which is probably what she deserves.
All through her shift at the clinic the next day, she weighs the pros and cons of stopping by his apartment after work. Even as she’s stepping off the bus and heading in the direction of Avalon Place, the book heavy in her work bag, she wonders if this is the right call.
She signs in at the front desk, then takes the familiar path to the sixth floor. She tells herself she’ll leave the book in the hall if he doesn’t answer, but his door swings open not even five seconds after she knocks.
“Charlie!” Emilia throws her arms around her. A black beanie covers her blonde hair, which is draped over one shoulder in an elegant fishtail braid. “Come in! Wes didn’t say we were expecting you.”
Before she can respond, Emilia pulls her inside, and with a start, she sees that Wes’s sister is not the only unexpected presence in the room.
“Oh, hello!” Rebecca stands from where she perches on one of the kitchen barstools, greeting Charlie with a peck on her cheek. “What a pleasant surprise!”
Charlie forces a smile, scanning the room.
Gabriel, dressed in a gray suit, sits on the couch watching a basketball game on the TV, nursing a tumbler of amber liquid.
Wes stands in the doorway of his bedroom, a devastatingly well-cut black sweater stretched across his torso.
Charlie registers a moment of surprise on his face before he rearranges his features, giving a polite nod and averting his gaze.
Her stomach twists as she returns her attention to his mother. “It’s nice to see you again, Mrs. Quinn.”
“Please, dear, call me Rebecca.”
“I don’t mean to intrude. I probably should have texted first.” Placing her bag on the counter, she rifles through it and pulls out the book.
“I found this in my apartment and wanted to drop it off for Wes.” His gaze snaps to it when she sets it on the counter.
“You must have forgotten it after our last tutoring session,” she adds.
Wes’s eyes widen, and only at the last second does she realize her slip.
From his spot on the couch, Gabriel looks at her for the first time since she arrived. “Tutoring? You’re tutoring Wes?”
The disbelief in his voice is a little offensive, but she nods. “Yes.”
His brows rise. She looks at Wes, hoping he can provide some kind of guidance on how to navigate this situation, but he simply regards her with an unreadable expression before crossing the room and tugging his peacoat off the hook on the back of the door.
“We should head out or we’ll be late,” he says.
Rebecca squeezes her forearm. “Charlie, you should join us.”
“For what?”
“Wes’s birthday dinner,” Emilia says, pulling on her own black peacoat.
Charlie stares at him. “It’s your birthday?”
Wes shrugs, focusing on buttoning his coat. “It’s not a big deal.”
With a start, she realizes she did know his birthday.
She packed the information away in the back of her mind months ago when he visited the clinic for testing.
Yet she forgot, too preoccupied with navigating all the items on her to-do list and trying to remain aloof and distanced and separated from her insuppressible feelings.
“Wes has a thing about birthdays,” Rebecca adds with a fond smile at her son. She pulls on her black heeled boots. “Doesn’t like the attention.”
He leans against the wall, appearing more like a put-out child than a twenty-two-year-old man. “They’re not a big deal to me.”
“You should come to dinner so he’ll be in a better mood.” Emilia winks.
“Emilia.” Wes glares at his sister. “I’m sure Rogers has much better things to do than sit through dinner with our family after a long day.”
A tense pause follows this declaration, during which Wes glances at Charlie before directing his irritation at the ceiling as if it has personally wronged him. Emilia shifts her gaze back and forth between the two of them with too much curiosity, while a smug smile plays on her lips.
A hand rests on her shoulder, and she jumps.
“We’d love to have you,” Rebecca says.
“I’m not exactly dressed for dinner.” She gestures to her white sneakers, leggings, and gray Archwood hoodie.
“Oh, come now. You’re beautiful, as always.” Emilia grins gleefully. “Right, Wesley?”
Wes’s expression turns murderous.
Charlie’s pulse ratchets skyward, feeling like she’s suddenly been thrust under a microscope. Rebecca and Emilia beam, Gabriel eyes her curiously, and Wes seems miserable.
She looks at him, and he finally looks back at her. Something passes between them as if they can each hear what the other is thinking.
Should I?
Do you want to?
Only if you want me to.
Wes gives the slightest of nods before turning away. The tension Charlie’s felt from the moment she stepped through his door lifts slightly. Perhaps they’ll talk later.
“Sure.” Charlie shoots Rebecca and Emilia a look somewhere between a grimace and a smile, hoping it looks convincing. “I’d love to go.”
On the short ride to the restaurant, Emilia chats easily about classes and asks whether Charlie has visited the new bar that recently opened. When she replies in the negative, Emilia holds out a hand for her phone and plugs in her number.
“We’ll go together soon,” she replies, handing it back to her.
Emilia’s magnetic energy reminds Charlie of Syeda. Charlie can easily imagine being friends with her regardless of who her brother is.
“If I didn’t know better,” she says, “I wouldn’t believe the two of you are related.”
Wes, staring out the window, asks, “Why?”
Charlie glances at him. “Your sister is very charming.”
He looks at her for the first time since leaving his apartment, his lips curving into a ghost of his usual smile. “I can be charming, Rogers,” he murmurs, his voice more seductive than it should be.
Charlie flushes and stares out the window the rest of the ride.
The Italian restaurant a few miles from campus is quiet with soft lighting and an ivy-covered exterior.
She sits beside Emilia and across from Wes, who slides into the chair next to his father.
Gabriel rests a hand on his son’s shoulder and murmurs something in his ear.
Wes simply nods, his face impassive, then looks up, catching her watching him.
He holds her gaze until the waiter arrives, then turns his attention away.
Rebecca orders a slew of appetizers and two bottles of wine for the table. When the waiter leaves, Gabriel leans forward and trains his full attention on Charlie. She thought she could coast through dinner under little to no scrutiny, but she now sees she is mistaken.
“Are you the same Charlotte Wes always talked about freshman year?”
Charlie glances at Wes, but he’s considering the complimentary bread basket with the utmost seriousness. She smiles, strained. “Maybe? We studied together a few times—”
“Bex.” Gabriel reaches for a piece of bread. “Remember how he used to talk about a girl he was hanging out with? Said she was much smarter than anyone else he knew?”
Charlie sips her water, suddenly warm. Her gaze snags on Wes’s fingers as he dips his bread in olive oil. When he looks at her, his green eyes shine with an intensity she can’t decipher, and she feels like she’s standing too close to an open flame.
He talked about her to his parents? Freshman year?
Why?
“And now you’re tutoring him.” Gabriel’s tone is genial, but Charlie doesn’t like the sharp edge to his smile. “Wesley was very tight-lipped about who it was.”
Charlie keeps her face neutral, twisting her napkin in her lap. “It’s not a big deal.” She glances at Wes again. He rests his cheek on his palm, drumming the fingers of his other hand on the table, watching her. “Wes asked for my help, and I was more than happy to give it.”
Wes’s lips quirk at her version of the truth. Her skin feels like it’s incinerating under his gaze.
“Where do you want to go to law school?” Rebecca chimes in.
“I don’t—” She pauses when the waiter arrives with their wine, and she takes a moment to steady herself. She accepts a small glass, citing an early class the next morning—not untrue—while Wes nearly fills his glass to the brim.
“I don’t have class tomorrow morning.” He raises his wine in a mock salute. “Plus it’s my birthday.”
His parents laugh. Charlie sips her wine, her cheeks flaming.
“So, no idea where you want to go yet?” Rebecca prompts again.
“No.” Charlie sets her glass on the table. Wes’s wine is already half gone. “I’m taking a year off to work on my sex education program.”
Rebecca leans forward. “Oh yes. Tell me more about that.”
A surge of warmth blooms across her skin at the obvious interest in Rebecca’s voice.
So used to trying to convince people to care about sex ed, Charlie sometimes worries she comes across as shrill and reductive, but she’s proud of everything she’s worked so hard for, if only to be able to give a detailed explanation to this important US senator.
Once a week for twelve weeks starting in September, she and her team will teach an hour-long lesson at a high school outside of Baltimore on an array of subjects—anatomy, sexual desire, contraception and pregnancy, STIs, and respect, consent, and bodily autonomy.
“That’s phenomenal, Charlie,” Rebecca replies with a proud smile. “Your parents must be so proud.”