Page 49 of Check You Out

Opening the trunk, she remarks, “Nope. I got it.” She holds up a hand to stay me. “Don’t say anything else before we reenact something from Abbott and Costello.”

I shove my hands in my pockets and climb back into the car, feeling useless. In the rear-view mirror, I watch her shove the stakes of the sign into the soaked earth.

I expect a conflict when Charlotte slides back in the car, shaking off water droplets from her hair and clothes, but she only flashes me a smile and says, “You do the next one?”

“Alright,” I reply.

We settle into a rhythm. I drive to the next house, and we alternate who sticks the signs in. I let her drive the conversation, which thankfully, she keeps light. She tells me more about growing up in Summerville, and she gives me the low down of the apparent counter movement led by the parent of my least liked student.

As we drive around the county, the anxiety about the argument we had earlier this week fades and courage builds in my chest. I’m going to do it. I’m going to ask Charlotte out on a date.

I can do this.

I tell myself that I will introduce the subject at the next red light. But then each light we hit ends up being green. As we fly through each intersection, I reassure myself again that the next intersection is going to be a red light. Each time, I’m disappointed.

Before I know it, we’re back at her door. A sinking feeling sits in my gut. One opportunity left.

“Thanks for helping me with the signs,” Charlotte remarks once I put the car in park right outside of the bookstore.

“Of course,” I say.

Do it now!

“So, uh, Aidan,” Charlotte begins, fiddling with the strap of her seat belt. “You, um, like coffee, right?”

“Yes,” I reply, tilting my head to the side and studying her. She knows I like coffee. “Why do you ask?”

“Good. Good.” She presses her lips together. “Do like getting coffee with other people?”

“Yes, on occasion, I do like to drink coffee with other people.” I suck in a breath of air, summoning courage. “Would you like to get coffee with me sometime?”

“I would.” She chuckles. “I’d like that a lot.”

I nod, grateful. “Awesome. When are you free? Weekends work best for me. Because school.”

Charlotte sighs with relief, although I’m not entirely sure why she would be stressed. “Um, maybe Saturday? At eleven?”

“That works.”

“Triple C?”

“Sounds perfect. I’ll meet you there,” I reply, smiling.

She nods and reaches to open her car door. “Great. I’ll see you Saturday at eleven at Triple C.” Without another word, she slips out of the car and into the bookstore.

As she waves from the window, the joy and sense of accomplishment hit me like a freight train.

I have a date with Charlotte Ferguson. Fuck yeah!

21

Charlotte

Two seconds after Aidan drives away, I bolt down the street to Little Bennett’s, the town’s bar. Water soaks into my shoes as I splash through puddles, but I don’t register it. Within moments, I’m across the town square and bursting through the doors. It’s always quiet on Monday evenings in this cozy bar, but it’s practically dead with today being Memorial Day. There are only a few patrons huddling in one corner.

Nicole is leaning on the bar, scrolling through her phone. Georgie, her uncle and the owner, is sitting in the corner watching an episode of Star Trek: The Next Generation on one of the wall-mounted TVs.

“I have a date with Aidan!” I exclaim, except it comes out in a worded garble because I’m out of breath and too excited. Water pools on the floor