Page 173 of Love at First Fright

“Charlie, listen to me.” I caught his free hand, intertwining our fingers. “We have mere hours before you walk out that door and I never see you again. You are the best thing that’s happened to me in twenty-seven years of monotonous hell. I’m not wasting a single second chasing answers I might not even get.”

His shoulders sagged, defeat written across every line of his body. “I just want to help you.”

“You have helped me,” I said, bringing his knuckles to my lips. “So much, baby. You’ve helped me feel alive again. And now I get to live with that memory forever, even if I can’t have you.”

Though even as I said it, a treacherous voice in the back of my mind wondered if this taste of happiness was worth it—whether I’d be absolutely despondent when Charlie left, knowing what I was missing.

Charlie sighed again, this time heavy with resignation. “Fine!”

“Come here.”

I wrapped my arms around his waist, trying to ignore how he shivered at my touch. Another sliver of self-hatred pierced through me—for what I could never give him. A warm body. A life outside these walls. A future that extended beyond tomorrow afternoon.

My gaze fell to my guitar propped against the wall. “Take my guitar when you leave.”

“But—”

“It would make me so happy, to think of it out there in the world, being played by you.”

Charlie nodded, then reached up to capture my chin between his fingers. “Any other requests? Want to taste some more food together?”

I curved my lips into my most devilish smile. “Hmmm. Well, there are other things I want to taste again.”

“Oh yeah?” That lovely flush adorned his cheeks, spreading down his neck.

I backed him towards the bed, hands on his hips. He went down easy, and I followed, knees bracketing his thighs. Solid. Real. I concentrated—pulled substance into myself, let gravity remember me. The mattress dipped. Charlie’s chest compressed beneath my weight, and he gasped, hips jerking up.

“Would you do me the honour of letting me fuck you again, Charlie Hayes?”

Out of Charlie’s mouth came a tiny moan, and he bucked his hips up again, this time in a slow grind against me. “I thought you’d never ask.”

He caught the hem of my T-shirt, yanked it up and off my head so quickly that the fabric snagged on my ear piercings.

“Fuck!” I yelped, pressing my palm to my ear.

“Sorry, sorry—” Charlie’s hands fluttered around my face, checking for damage.

“Just kidding. I can’t feel pain.” I winked. “So feel free to hurt me as much as you like.”

“You little shit,” he said, reaching to attack my jeans.

“Wait.” I snatched up both his hands. My gaze flicked to the bedroom door. “I don’t trust that asshole not to come and disturb us.”

Charlie scrunched up his nose. “He’s already seen me come all over your face. If he wants to watch you rail me, then he’s welcome to the show.”

Upon hearing there would be railing, my cock twitched to life, but I stroked across Charlie’s face, thumb tracing the sharp line of his cheekbone. “Nah. I don’t want Brad’s horrible beady eyes on your lovely body.” I tugged Charlie up and off the bed. “Let’s go to the attic.”

Charlie’s eyes widened, pale blue deepening to stormy grey. “The attic? There are so many spiders up there…”

I pressed a kiss to his nose. “Remember my promise to protect you?”

Charlie sighed. “Okay. The attic.”

We gathered up the duvet in a tangle of limbs and fabric. Charlie grabbed his rucksack whilst I found more blankets stuffed in the bottom of the broken wardrobe—moth-eaten wool things that smelled like old roses.

We crept through the corridors, listening for Brad’s heavy footsteps, but who knew where he’d fucked off to. Probably sulking in the garden or torturing some other poor spirit with his ridiculous equipment.

The attic stairs creaked under our weight despite Charlie trying to step lightly. I floated beside him, arms full of blankets, watching the concentration on his face as he navigated the narrow steps.