T H R E E
I set my tape gun down and glanced around my room. It is in utter shambles. My mattress is pressed against the wall and my floor is littered in brown boxes. I taped the two little drawers of my microscopic desk shut, and I wrapped my hanging clothes in black garbage bags. All that’s left to do is get a trolley for the service elevator and load up my car.
The front door opens without a knock, but I can smell the goodies he has in his hands.
“Banks,” he calls. “I got one of those buggy things.”
I roll my eyes to myself. Of course, he did.
I set out from my room to see Charlie, setting down two cups of coffee, a brown bag tucked between his teeth, and a trolley taking up the majority of our—Kai’s—living room. His hair has grown long again, and it flops around, so Charlie has the top half pulled back in the tiniest of buns, but his curls make it appear larger. I already know the first thing I will be doing once I’m moved in is trimming his hair. He’s wearing a red flannel under a black corduroy jacket with a few wet drops from the dusting of snow.
His blue eyes beam at mine, grinning as he pulls the bag from his teeth. “Hi.”
“Hi,” I reply, humorously reaching for one of the cups he sat down. The writing on the side caught my eye. In pretty handwriting is the name Brie with her phone number. I watch him grab the other and see the same thing is written on his .
“Well she had to be positive you got her number.” I shrug, taking a sip.
“Huh?” Charlie murmurs and I twist my cup for him to see.
“It’s on yours too.”
He frowns, glancing at his own then rolls his shoulders. “I figured we could take a load over then head up to Ikea?” He completely bypasses the note. “I texted one of the other neighbors, who offered to help me with your bed later.”
“I can do it,” I say. “I’m stronger than I look.”
Charlie grins. “Save your muscles for your patients, Banks.”
“I can’t already be asking favors from neighbors I don’t even know.”
“He’s cool,” Charlie insists. “His girl is pregnant so he’s trying to suck up to everyone now so when their baby is screaming at three in the morning, we don’t all gang up to evict them.”
“Are they my direct neighbor?” I cringe, as a nurse, I need as much sleep as I can get.
“No,” he says. “They’re mine. A whole three floors between you.”
I sigh with relief.
“So don’t be surprised if I come banging on your door at midnight needing somewhere quiet to crash.”
“Speaking of that, I need to look at a couch.”
“Any other heavy lifting you’re going to require of me, Banks?” He smugly takes another sip.
“Let me think on that,” I murmur, reaching for the bag that I knew had cinnamon rolls inside .
I pull them out, grab a plate, and stick them in the microwave. I love that Charlie always brings me sweets. He knows the way to my heart is sugar.
“Kai invited me to your parent’s house for dinner on Sunday.” Charlie throws out after shoving a piece of gushy cinnamon roll in his mouth.
“I’m surprised it’s taken him this long.”
“Do you not want me to come?”
“I don’t care,” I say. “You know that. The only reason I haven’t before is because my mom is going to bombard you with a million questions.”
“I don’t mind,” he replies. “I could pick you up from work if you want to ride together?”
The suburb my parents live in is about thirty minutes outside the city, and it would be pointless for us to all drive separate cars.
I nod. “Sure. Kai too?”
“He said he’s going over early to help your dad with something.”
“Oh okay.”
Charlie, while had always been Kai’s friend, morphed very quickly into more so mine. It’s never occurred to me what Kai might think of that. The three of us hang out together often enough, I always assumed Kai was okay with it. If we were to ever call dibs, Charlie would be mine though.
“Why don’t you talk to him more?” I ask.
“Kai?”
“Yeah.” I pull apart my cinnamon roll. “I know he’s busy but you’re always with me.”
“You need me more,” he utters .
“I do not need you, Next-Door-Charlie.”
He scrunches his nose at me. “Yeah, you do. And I’m hanging out with him tomorrow. He’s going to tattoo me.”
My eyes widen. “You’re getting a tattoo?”
“Yeah?”
“I’ve just never heard you once say you wanted one.”
He shrugs “You can see it when it’s done.”
I pretend to not be all that interested but, on the inside, I’m adding to the list of things that make Charlie a real-life made-up man.
Nice hair—check.
Sweet—check.
Funny—check.
Ripped—check.
Tattoos?
Check!
Check. Check. Check.
I finish my cinnamon roll with a grumble, and then I tug on my pale pink puffer as we load the trolley with boxes. Most of them could be shoved into my car, the same white Honda I’ve had since high school, and then some of my hanging pieces and my desk would go in Charlie’s.
The one big problem with Charlie’s truck is that it’s lifted for tall people. I am small. Height-wise anyway, and I have to take a running start to even get into his truck. I practically threw the hangers into the back since the seat came to nearly my chest. Charlie still finds it rather amusing every time I attempt to climb in.
I follow him the few blocks over to what is now our apartment building. It’s an old brick structure that was once an industrial space. About twenty years ago it had been renovated into lofts. Charlie is on the top floor with nice balconies and a spacious layout. I’m in the middle, in a cramped studio but the finished roof made up for my lack of balcony. The small adjacent parking lot would make it easy for me to find a spot with my odd-hour shifts as well. At Kai’s place, it can be iffy to get a spot after eight o’clock. But honestly, I rarely use my car, unless it’s to go to the hospital or to visit our parents. Everything else I need is within walking distance.
Charlie goes inside the entry, grabbing another trolley that we then load up and take the service elevator once more. I’ll take the stairs when I’m not carrying loads of books and crap. Charlie, however, never does, being on the top level of an eight-story building. His lazy bones slump into the elevator every time.
I fish my new keys from my purse when we stop outside of 4B, my new home. The door is dark gray with gold letters. I open it and am met with the open space and concrete floors. I would need to add a rug to my list at Ikea.
Immediately to my left is my kitchen. Nothing special, a stainless-steel stove and fridge, along with a small round sink. To my right is the long wall that all my books will be decorating. I plan to set my bed on the left wall facing the books and get a small couch to sit in front of the half-wall windows that cover the wall parallel to the door. Lastly, the bathroom is also on the far wall, but luckily the windows are frosted, so the entire neighborhood can’t see me shower.
We put everything on the right wall, till my bed is here, and I can start putting things away.
“You might want a dresser,” Charlie suggests.
“More heavy lifting for you,” I wink .
The one thing the studio lacked was closet space. Beside a tiny pantry in the kitchen, there is none.
I shrug out of my jacket after Charlie all but threw me into his truck. He kept the cabin toasty warm as a few speckles of snow hit his windshield.
“Thank you,” I tell him. “For taking the day off and doing this with me, I might have sounded bitchy before, but I am grateful for your help.”
Charlie flashes me a grin. “Might have?”
I lightly punch his arm.
“I know you are, Banks,” he glints.
Like I said, sweet.
First stop, Ikea café.
With hot dogs in hand, we walk through the showroom.
“I like this one.” Charlie stands before a pale green loveseat, while I’d been eying a beige one five feet over.
“Green?” I question him.
It is a pretty green, somewhere between a pastel and pistachio. The style is traditional as he slumps down on it.
“It’s comfy,” he confirms, his arm landed on the rolled one of the couch. “Come sit.” He pats the spot beside him. It’s small, a two-seater as I reluctantly sit down next to him, our thighs just inches apart.
“It is comfy,” I sigh. “But green?”
Charlie rolls his neck. “Don’t fill your place with boring beige, Banks,” he says. “You’re colorful, your space should be too.”
“Coming from the guy whose entire apartment is black and gray. ”
“I’m a guy.”
I huff, standing and glancing at the price tag. “Say a prayer for my credit card,” I murmur, snapping a picture of the bin for pickup in the warehouse.
“Come on.” He wraps an arm around my neck. “Let’s go find shelves.”
I decide on some cool-toned wood ones, snapping another picture of their tag while we stroll onward. Charlie disappears after a while when I’m looking at lamps, only to reappear with a panda ushanka hat on his head, holding a matching one for me and a huge stuffed lion.
“You found the kids section, I see.”
“Rawr.” He bops me on the nose with the lion paw.
“What are you doing with that?”
“It’s for you,” he says, putting it in our cart. “To protect your apartment.”
I stare at him as he puts the matching hat on my head.
“Find a lamp?”
“You’re actually a child.”
“I think this one is nice.” He points to a clear one, that happened to be the one in my hand. “Hey, is bedding close? I need a new comforter.” He starts toward the arrows, leaving me there with a lamp in my hand and a freaking panda on my head.
When I finally catch up to him in bedding, he’s eying a dark gray comforter set, completely unbothered by all the looks he’s getting because of the toddler hat on his head. Mine is now sitting on top of the massive lion in my cart.
“No,” I tell him.
He hums, lifting a brow. “If I am getting a green loveseat, you are getting something other than gray. ”
“It’s all sort of…” He looks around. “Girly.”
I push the cart onto his side and walk over to the white duvets. I grab a simple one and shove it at him. “Girls like white beds,” I tell him. “You’re welcome.”
“That’s the trick?”
He cheekily smirks while throwing the duvet set in the cart.
“I just needed to change the color of my sheets?”
“As if you have any lack in that department,” I mutter under my breath.
Charlie disappears one final time, coming back as I pick up a cute faux plant just before the warehouse, with some dark green and toffee-colored throw pillows and an area rug thrown over his shoulder.
My eyes expand. “Charlie...”
“My housewarming gift to you,” he winks, holding a cozy rug bigger than him. The very rug I decided was out of my price range, no matter how dreamy it felt against my fingertips.
“No, you can’t.” I insistently shake my head as he throws the pillows into the cart. Charlie disregards me all together and continues into the warehouse, grabbing one of the larger carts to haul the pieces of the couch, shelves, and little dresser I’d found. He sets the rug down and pushes it, not bothering to wait for me.
“Next-Door-Charlie!” I snip, and I can hear him chuckling as I chase after him.
Soon we’re attempting to grab all the correct boxes for my loveseat when a cute statuesque brunette moves to Charlie’s side, as he sets down the box he had just grabbed. I’m almost too impressed by her stealth skills to be annoyed at her.
“Hi,” she almost squeaks. “Could I bother you for a moment? I can’t pick up this box and I was hoping maybe you could help me out?”
I peek out from behind the plant and lion, finding Charlie staring me down. I then sink back behind my plant.
“Sure,” Charlie agrees.
“I like your hat,” she flirts as they pass me.
Sometimes the fact that I am no taller than the average houseplant works to my advantage. I push back the leaves and watch as Charlie moves to the next aisle over, still chatting with her as he grabs a box no bigger than a shoe box off the floor. My eyes knock back in their sockets. She fully just wanted a reason to talk to him as I suspected.
He sets the box in her cart, and she palms his arm. Her body language is open and welcoming while Charlie is a bit stiff. A half-smile on his lips but still his body is tense. She continues to touch his arm while giggling. Charlie glances through the very sliver of space that I watched them through. His eyes tell me something. I take a leap that we are on the same page and walk over to the gap between products.
“There you are!” I exclaim and the girl whips around, seeing me with horror in her eyes. I step on a palette to make myself taller. “You already have two baby mamas. Are you really trying to go for a third?” I puff my stomach out as much as I can manage and palm it. “Let me tell you,” I eye the girl. “Two seconds and I still got saddled with his demon child.”
Her eyes widen as her jaw ticks .
My eyes land on Charlie, whose have also widened, but they twinkle with a pearl of hidden laughter.
“Thanks,” the girl scoffs, grabbing her cart and speed-walking away.
I shrug and go back to my plant as Charlie rounds the corner, snickering. “I just wanted you to get her to go away, not paint me as a two-pump chump.” He rubs his neck.
“I had to think fast,” I counter. “Don’t like my methods, don’t ask me for help.”
He shakes his head and grabs the last box for my loveseat. Setting it on the cart he moves to my side to push it. “You’d be pretty cute preggers, Banks,” he winks at me to mess with me more.
“Oh, shut up,” I bark, grabbing the handle for the other cart, and patting my lion’s head before we started toward checkout. The lines were astronomical as usual so while Charlie held our spot, I walked back over to the café to get slushies.
“Banks?”
I twist my neck at the sound of my name, only to find the doctor from the hospital that all the nurses have been fussing about, behind me.
Dr. Stevens.
His blonde hair is trimmed short and styled attractively out of his eyes. He wore a nice tan peacoat, that likely cost more than my loveseat back there and glanced at me with a grin.
“Dr. Stevens,” I smile. “Hello.”
“Ryan.” His eyes warm. “We’re off the clock.”
“Right. ”
“How are you?” he asks softly. “I haven’t seen you at the hospital in a few days.”
Dr. Stevens and I often cross paths, but we rarely speak. It’s normally just a hello here and there.
“Good,” I reply. “I’m moving so I switched shifts with Vickie.”
He lightly bobs his head. “I take it you’re here getting furniture?”
“Guilty,” I say. “Are you getting some new furniture as well?”
He smirks, showing me the bedspread, I hadn’t noticed was tucked under his arm. It’s gray.
I blush a little.
“I should get some new furniture though,” he adds. “I’ve had the same stuff since college. My mother keeps nagging me to give up the bachelor pad.”
I knew he didn’t wear a wedding ring, but part of me just assumed he was married. He always seems to deflect when one of the gals makes a move on him and logically my brain went to married, rather than choosing to not mix business with pleasure.
“Sounds like mine,” I murmur. “Though she’s only on my case, she could care less about my brothers.”
“Mine says they do that to their favorites.”
I snort. “I promise you I am not the favorite.”
“Me either,” he chuckles, smoothly. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you out of scrubs.” He peers at me with a sharper eye and my feet shift. “I’m sorry,” he shakes his head. “I didn’t mean to make it weird.”
“I’ve never seen you out of scrubs either,” I say for both our sakes, and he relaxes a little .
“Would you be open to getting dinner with me sometime?” His cheeks fade a little from the pink that rose before.
I stared at him for a second, unsure I had heard that correctly. Was he really asking me out on a date? Randomly at that?
“Or not.” Ryan blushes again when I take too long.
“Sorry,” I quip. “I’m just… surprised is all.”
I move forward in line, Ryan on my heels. “Why would you be surprised?”
“It’s not exactly a secret that all the nurses are trying to get your attention,” I inhale. “I just assumed you were married or you’d have taken interest in one of them.”
“Not married and I am,” he says, his pale blue eyes peering down at me. “I’m interested in you.”
I blink at him. “You want to have dinner? Like a… date ?” The word date comes out like I said enema.
His teeth press into his bottom lip. “Yes, Banks. Would you be open to that?”
“Urm…”
“What about a lunch date at the hospital?” he offers. “Test me out before the real thing,” he grins.
“Alright,” it slips from my lips before I have time to truly think about it. “I guess… just come find me one day.”
Now at the front of the line, I order two slushies for Charlie and I.
“Make it three,” Ryan says behind me, handing the worker a few bills before I can get my card from my wallet.
“You really didn’t have to do that,” I tell him. “Thank you.”
“Incentive to get you to stick to our lunch date,” he winks. “Here with a friend? ”
I nod. “Yeah, helping me with a loveseat.”
“If you need help putting it together, I’d be more than happy to help.”
“I appreciate that,” I smile as three slushies are placed before us. I grab two while Ryan takes his. “I’m on shift again the day after tomorrow.”
“Me too,” he says. “Lunch?”
I nod again. “Lunch.”
“It was good to see you, Banks.”
“You too and thanks again.” I gesture the slushies.
He smirks. “No problem. See you soon.”
“See you soon,” I reply, and he turns, heading for the door as I exhale, questioning if the last five minutes actually happened.