Page 139 of Whirlwind

Chapter 4

Carla

Carla opened his arms when Charlie started to pull away. But she looked so morose that he didn’t hesitate to pull her back in.

There was a huge difference between I’m not interested and I don’t think this is going to work. He would just have to show her that it could.

The loose folds of her flannel bunched up, but didn’t stop him from feeling the warmth of her skin beneath. Every muscle in her body was tight, but she still pressed back into his hands. He ached to massage those muscular shoulders and cover her in kisses. To worship her body every day until she knew that she was enough.

He wondered if she’d told that story to anyone else. It seemed like a dam breaking loose. There was so much hurt and shame that Charlie was carrying around, and he never would have known.

He could tell that there was much more to it. Long gaps filled with whatever she wasn’t yet ready to say.

He traced gentle patterns over her back, giving her the silence she needed until she was ready to open up. Just watching her turn things over in her head and waiting felt like it was hard work.

When she was quiet for a long while, he took a gamble. He let go of her hand and cupped her cheek. Sometimes showing was better than telling.

She let him turn her face up toward him, but didn’t press closer. She was clearly at war within.

“You shouldn’t… We’re not…”

Carla waited patiently, keeping his expression open and relaxed. He worked with high schoolers all day, many of whom were handling difficult family situations in addition to the usual drama of puberty, so there probably wasn’t much that Charlie could throw at him that would make him break his calm.

Charlie seemed to have run out of words, her mouth slightly open. But since they were already so close, he would barely have to lean in to brush a kiss over her soft, slightly chapped lips.

“I shouldn’t what because were not what?” he prompted gently.

Charlie blew out a breath and looked away. “You shouldn’t touch me like that because we’re not… we’re not right, um, together.”

“I think we’re extraordinarily right together. Tell me what you’re worried about.” Dozens of thoughts raced through his head. She could be asexual. She could be recovering from abuse or trauma. There were any number of things that could be holding her back, but he was pretty confident he could work with all of them. She was the one he wanted.

Slowly, he tugged her toward him, giving her plenty of time to react or pull away. Her eyes were wide as they flicked over his face with that curious mix of fear and desire.

He brushed a light kiss over her lips, but that wasn’t his destination.

He pulled her against his shoulder, her tense muscles resisting even as her body shifted toward him. “Breathe,” he murmured. After a long moment she did, relaxing into him on the exhale.

He loved how she was just a bit taller and thicker than he was, how his arm only barely spanned her wide shoulders. It made him feel powerful when she finally gave him the weight of her body and her fears.

He lifted his other hand and traced it along the soft line of her jaw. She trembled beneath his fingers, but her eyes closed in trust. Delicious.

“You feel just right to me,” he finally whispered.

She shook her head in disagreement while nuzzling further into his chest.

“Can you tell me about it?” He stroked her buzzed-short hair, shot through with grey, and the curve of her ear. Even with most of his attention on her words, he was still marveling that he, at last, could touch her.

She didn’t answer and he didn’t push, enjoying the feel of her hair, smooth on the way down and ticklishly rough on the way up.

“We’re both… I mean… who’s the girl?”

It took Carla a moment to process the question. It seemed almost laughable to him, with his long history of dating men, women, and every blessed variation in between or outside of that binary, but clearly Charlie lacked that confidence. Or even knowledge, though it was surprising with the crowd she was surrounded by. All due to growing up in the wrong time and place and Lacey’s gender normative bullshit.

“I don’t think either of us is the girl. I’m genderqueer all the time. I’m a Dom some of the time, but that’s not a gender role. What we do in bed doesn’t change who either of us is.”

Charlie mumbled something into his shirt.

“What was that?”