S I X
“You are not wearing those on a date, B,” Perry barks from my phone screen, perched on my shelf.
“I think the white.” I ignore her, holding up the white Nike rather than the pink and red one.
“Banks!”
“I'm a sneakerhead, Perry. That's not changing because a doctor asked me out.”
I wore a white long-sleeve with a mock turtleneck under a pale pink slip dress that fell to my mid-calf. I styled my hair in a low ponytail, letting a few pieces hang in my face. I did my usual makeup, only I wore a pale pink lipstick as well.
“Where is Charlie?” she huffs. “He'll agree with me.”
“No, he wouldn't,” I giggle. “And I don't know where he is.”
I reach for a dainty gold chain that I secure around my neck before I put in a pair of thin threader earrings that I loop through all three of my lobe piercings.
Perry can see me standing in the bathroom as I survey myself. I feel pretty, even if my hips are a little too round for this satin fabric, pulling it slightly taut.
“Where are you going?” she grunts out.
“He's taking me to a Greek restaurant that just opened.”
“Fancy. I'm still surprised you even agreed to go out.”
“You and me both.”
“He must be pretty hot. ”
“He's nice,” I say. “Doesn't appear to have any obvious red flags and yes, he is very attractive.”
“Well, I am happy for you. It's time you got out there.”
“I'm anxious,” I admit.
“Of course, you are,” Perry exhales. “Just remember most guys are assholes but not all of them.”
“I don't get why he wants to date me.” I scrunch my nose, shutting off the bathroom light. “I think Stacey is much more his speed.”
Perry dramatically rolls her eyes. “Why can't you see yourself clearly? You're a catch, Banks. Just as deserving as any other girl.”
“I know,” I groan. “I just...”
“Just nothing.”
“I like Ryan. He's sweet,” I decide.
“Are you just now convincing yourself of this?”
“No…” I murmur. “Maybe…” I bite my lip. “I kind of had a fight with Charlie and it's got me a bit preoccupied.”
“About what?”
“He just—” I grunt. “He doesn't really talk to me about anything. If it's not right here in the moment, he acts as if it doesn't matter.”
“Maybe he's just really private.”
“I get it,” I say. “I know it's not fair to expect him to spew information like I do, but I want to know. I feel like he doesn't trust me.”
“Banks, Charlie loves you,” Perry blatantly puts it. “He is actually perfect for you if you two could take a step back for two seconds and see it.”
“You always say this and you know we're just friends.”
“He does face masks with you. ”
“So.”
“He reads your books.”
“So do lots of other people.”
“He's with you nearly every day. You talk to him more than you talk to me.”
“He doesn't have a lot of close friends.”
“By choice,” she points out. “Charlie could make friends with anyone. He chooses to stay at home with you.”
“What are you getting at, Perry?” I say with a puff.
“I'm just saying there is proof right before your eyes that some men are decent. I'm glad you're going on this date. I don't want you to do the kink thing. Give him a chance but if he does turn out to be a slime ball, you still have Charlie.”
“You make him sound like he's second best.”
“Charlie's the goal, Banks.” She stares. “I would kill for Dan to act like Charlie does.”
“Then go find a Charlie,” I suggest.
She purses her lips. “I'm in love with him.” She shrugs. “I can't get my stupid heart on the same page as my brain.”
“Why are we like this?”
Perry giggles. “Hopeless romantics or some stupid shit like that.”
Just then my intercom buzzes, telling me that Ryan is downstairs.
“He's here.”
“Okay, remember, give him a chance.”
“Yes, yes,” I nod.
“I want details later. Love you.”
“Love you, bye. ”
I tuck my phone in my purse, sling my jacket over my arm, and lock the door behind me. I take the stairs, wanting a few more minutes to gather myself.
Perry's right.
Charlie is proof that not all men are misogynistic jerks. I would have to give Ryan a fair chance. I don't read romance books wanting to be alone my entire life. The only way I'll find it is to go out there and search for it. Charlie stumbled into my life and has made it very easy to fall into a rut. I'm comfortable with him. I don't have to be anyone or anything but myself. I don’t have to put myself out there because whether I like it or not, Charlie drags it out of me regardless. But I’m not going to find a happily ever after cooped up with the last possible person that would date me.
I hate it, but Perry does have a point; Charlie would be perfect for me. A made-up man in the flesh. If only—
“Wow.”
I almost toppled down the stairs, my saving grace being that I snatched the railing before it happened. I became so immersed in my own thoughts I didn't realize that between the third and second floors, someone was walking up the stairs as I was walking down.
“You look... Wow, Banks.”
His eyes angled up at me with a takeout bag in his palm. A beanie is tugged over his head and his shoulders are a bit damp.
Why is he on the stairs?
Charlie never takes the stairs.
“You're taking the stairs?”
“Nothing better to do.” He shrugs, and I move down the remaining steps between us .
“Thanks,” I murmur, regarding his comment.
“Leaving for your date?”
I nod. “He's waiting downstairs.”
Charlie sticks his free hand in the pocket of his jacket. “I best not keep you then.” He sidesteps me.
“Charlie,” I whisper, and he peers at me from the corner of his eye.
“Goodnight, Banks,” he murmurs softly before continuing up the stairs.
My body tugs.
Suddenly, all I want to do is run up behind him and see what he has in that takeout bag.
I poke around with my fork, pushing pieces of lettuce around the bowl while Ryan rambled the last twenty minutes about a patient. Normally, I would be fascinated with this. I didn't become a nurse for nothing, I just couldn't focus on Ryan. I kept seeing Charlie's eyes, dark with an unreadable cloudiness.
“Do you have any siblings?” I ask in a free breath. I needed simple small talk.
“No,” he answers. “Only child.”
“So, you are your mother's favorite,” I jest.
He nods. “You?”
“Older brothers,” I reply. “One is married with a baby and the other is a tattoo artist.”
“Can I ask you a question?” He tips his wine glass to his lips. “Working with kids, I hear all sorts of crazy baby names. I find the stories behind them fascinating. How did you get your name?”
“You think my name is crazy?” I tease but Ryan sees through it and chuckles. “My mom saw it in a baby book when she was pregnant with Hawke, but my dad wouldn't hear of it. She tried for it again when Kai came along, but he still didn't feel like it fit. When she found out about me, they had planned to name me Malie. When I was born and my dad held me for the first time, he glanced at my mom and said 'This is Banks' and the rest is history.”
“That's cute.”
“I like it,” I smile.
“Your parents seem like interesting people.”
“They are characters,” I nod. “Yours?”
“Doctors.”
“Enough said.”
He laughs.
We fell into a comfortable conversation then. We ate and talked. And ate some more. I did enjoy myself, I laughed and felt like Ryan truly saw me as a person.
“I hate to cut this short, but I have rounds in the morning,” he murmurs outside my building.
“Understandable,” I smile, noting that it's nearly midnight. I reach for the door handle of his fancy sedan and Ryan meets me, shutting the door for me.
“Can I walk you to the door?”
“Sure,” I say before we rush out of the drizzle.
“I had a lot of fun tonight, Banks,” he tells me just as we slip under the eaves of the building.
“I did as well,” I murmur, seeing his pale eyes flicker from mine to my lips.
“Enough to do it again?” He smirks as his hand brushes my cheek .
“Yes.” I tilt my chin up.
I want to be kissed.
I want to be desired.
“I like you very much, Nurse Matsumara,” he sings into my grin as he closes the distance between us.
His kiss is soft and welcoming. I can taste the wine and vinegar from dinner on his breath. His touch is delicate till he groans.
“You're driving me crazy,” he murmurs, reluctantly pulling away.
I grin. “Goodnight, Dr. Stevens.”
“Goodnight, Banks,” he says, giving me a lingering glance before jogging back to his sedan.
I bite back my smile as I walk up the stairs and slump into my apartment. I feel hopeful for once. Maybe Ryan was the guy I'd been waiting for.
I tossed my jacket off and changed into some pajamas before washing my face. I yanked out my ponytail, giving my hair a good ruffle when I heard a knock at my door. My body tenses, knowing it's now well after midnight and no one should be knocking on my door.
I move softly to the peephole and let out a sigh of relief when I see it's just Charlie. I undo the deadbolt and yank open the door.
“Why are you still—” I lose my words as I take him in.
His eye is turning black, his lids heavy, his hair a spiked damp mess. He's wearing a black long sleeve and a pair of sweats that have blood on them. The blood coming from his hand that is currently wrapped up in a dirty dish towel.
“Charlie! ” I gasp. “What happened? ”
“I didn't want to bother you,” he says quietly, moving past me. “But I think I might need stitches.”
I all but slam the door, rushing to grab his hand. He winces a little at the force at which I tug it to me.
“What happened to you?” I repeat frantically, pulling back the towel. “Were you attacked?”
Behind, I find two deep cuts between his first and second knuckles.
“No,” he says. “It's nothing. Really. I'm fine.”
I look up at him with a grimace. His face is pale as I cover the cuts again, applying pressure.
“I'm fine, Banks,” he says once more.
“Go sit in the bathroom,” I scoff. “I'll grab my kit.”
He heavily nods and goes while I grunt for a moment to myself.
He's not fine.
I stare at his back till he sits on the toilet. His eyes stay on the floor as I finally move, grabbing my kit from under the sink in the kitchen.
Silence hangs between us as I spread my kit across the sink, grabbing gauze and alcohol before I pull back the towel once more. I began cleaning the wounds, Charlie quietly taking the pain as I pressed and poured alcohol over them.
“Did you have fun on your date?”
He finally finds a voice and that's what he chooses to say.
I glare at him.
“C'mon, Banks.” He attempts to smile. “Tell me about it.”
“You have a black eye, could have nerve damage in your hand and you want to talk about my date?” I hiss.
“I'm okay,” he repeats softly .
“You won't even tell me this?” I glower, tossing some bloody gauze in the trash, reaching for fresh.
Charlie sighs, his nostrils flaring as I ready my tools to stitch. “I'm technically not trained to do this,” I warn him. “The most I've done is observe and practice on dummies when I'm not supposed to.”
“I trust you,” he says.
I then place his hand on the sink. “It's going to hurt.”
He just nods and I begin. He doesn't flinch as I do my best, knowing he'll likely have scars regardless.
“Why didn't you go to the ER? They could have had a plastic surgeon do this.”
“No ER,” he grunts, biting back the pain. “I just need you.”
“I'm not a doctor, Charlie,” I gripe, staring his knuckles. The tops of them already bruising in the manner that typically happens when someone punches something.
“You're good enough for me,” he breathes as I glance up at him.
“Were you in a fight?”
He looks away, staring down at his feet.
I bite back another growl and close the first wound before moving to the other. It's the smaller of the two and will likely only need three sutures, so I make quick work of it, cleaning them one more time before I cover them in a bandage. I raise Charlie's hand wrapping it in between his fingers and then around.
“Don't be mad at me, Banks,” he whispers.
My hard tired eyes find his, also tired and pleading.
“What happened?” I murmur again.
“I'm okay,” he responds. “I promise you. ”
My chest roughens as I close the wrap and drop his hand, cleaning up my kit. “You should go to the hospital,” I mutter. “Let them make sure you don't have nerve damage; just don't tell them I did this or I could be fired.”
I grab the waste and toss it before walking out of the bathroom.
“Banks,” he calls after me.
I keep my back to him, putting my kit back and washing my hands for the second time.
“I don't want to leave with us fighting.”
I chew on my cheek. “Then tell me what happened to you,” I demand under my breath.
“It's not serious…” he attempts. “Just an accident.”
He's lying.
I can feel it in my bones. I just wish I knew why. Why he thinks he must.
I gaze over my shoulder, to find him hunched over in the middle of my apartment.
“Don't be mad at me, Banks,” he pleads again.
I shut my eyes and turn with a hesitant beat. “He took me to a new restaurant. He's nice.”
“You like him?”
“I think I could,” I confess, finally opening my eyes.
Charlie hums, bobbing his head. “Does he measure up?”
“To what?”
His blue eyes dance toward my bookshelves. “To the made-up men.”
My lips part.
I wanted to say the only man I've ever met to measure up is the one before me.
The one who is keeping secrets from me .
The one who is my best friend.
The one who sees me for who I truly am.
The one who won't let me in.
“He might.”
Charlie nods. “I want that for you, Banks,” he says calmly. “You deserve someone like Jeremy or Misha or Tom.”
He stands there rambling off the names of the men in some of my favorite books.
“You finished it?”
“You were right, Misha was tame compared to the guys in Credence.” His lips curl a little.
“Kai finished the tattoo then?”
He nods. “Do you want to see it?”
I am a bit greedy when Charlie offers any bit of himself, but now it feels like a bargaining chip.
“Maybe later. I just want to go to bed,” I say aloofly.
“Alright,” he utters, stepping toward the door.
“You need to ice,” I respire. “To keep the swelling down on your eye and hand, take some ibuprofen for the pain.”
He changes course a little, stopping in front of me for a moment before wrapping his arm around my neck, and forcing me into a hug. My cheek hit his chest.
“Thank you,” he says into my hair. “You're amazing.”
I say nothing.
“I don't know what I'd do without you, Banks.” He gently pulls away. “I'll let you get some sleep.”
I watch him reach for the door. “Night, Banks.”
Night, Charlie.