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I gulp down two glasses of water from the sink and then fill the third one up for Charlotte.
“Here,” I offer.
She takes the glass with a grateful look and drains half of it before handing it back to me. I set it down on the nightstand.
“Now what?” she asks.
I glance at the clock. Our parents are likely to be home in a half hour. “Now we go to your room, and I lie like a nice boy on top of the covers while you’re underneath them.”
“What’s the point of that?” She raises an eyebrow.
“It makes us look good. Like we’re not fooling around, just spending innocent time together.”
“My dad only thinks one of us is innocent.”
I wink at her. “Me, right?”
She tosses a pillow at me, but it falls far short. I pull on my discarded sweatpants and a T-shirt and gather up her clothes. Tossing them on the bed, I head to tell Nick where we’ll be going.
“Over to Charlotte’s for the night,” I say. “Thirty minutes until the ‘rents are home.”
I hear enough scuffling to recognize that Nick’s got another person in his room.
“Who’s in there with him?” Charlotte whispers to me. Turning I see she’s dressed and her hair has lost that just-fucked look that I am starting to love. I suppose I’ll find long strands of dark hair in my brush tomorrow but rather than being irritated, I’m kind of looking forward to it. Not that I’m going to weave a friendship bracelet, but I like having things that Charlotte’s touched in my possession. I figure it will make our separation easier.
“Don’t know.” I shrug. I take her hand and walk down the hall toward the service hallway. “Don’t care either.”
There are a few girls in our building that Nick could be nailing, but I’m not going to guess which one. He’ll tell me in the morning. I wonder if Charlotte knows what a manwhore he is. Probably.
“I wonder if it is Josie,” she muses. Yup, she knows all about Nick’s tendencies. We’re as close as one family, so secrets are hard to keep around here. Our newfound physical connection isn’t one we’ll be able to keep from our parents for long. I wonder how bad Uncle Bo will hurt me when he figures it out. He is my godfather, but I’m guessing he won’t go light on me.
Maybe Dad will intervene and explain that it was inevitable, because it was. Our timeline just sped up because Charlotte got sick and now she’s leaving. I know I need to tell her about my plans before she goes, but I don’t want to ruin everything now. I’ll wait. I’ll tell her about the recruiter the day before she leaves. If she thinks about it, she’ll know that this is as inevitable as us getting together.
“What kind of treatment are you going to get over there?” I ask as we climb into Charlotte’s bed.
“Just chemo and radiation followed by intensive physical therapy.” She snuggles under the blankets, her thin body needing the extra heat that mine does not. “What’ll you do this summer?”
This would be the time to tell her that I plan to enlist in the Navy right after she leaves so that I’ll be able to start boot camp immediately upon graduation. The Delayed Entry Program allows me to sign up before graduation and then request the earliest possible boot camp date. It’s the one secret I’ve kept from everyone except Nick, but I’ll need my dad’s signature on the papers since I’m seventeen. I know if I say this that she’ll beg me not to go, and I’ll cave because I’ve never been able to say no to Charlotte. Not ever. But if I enlist then I’m bound by a contract to the U.S. government to not only go to boot camp but stay in the military for four years. I’m hoping that contract is enough of defense against her.
“I’m planning for our future,” I say.
“I love you,” she whispers as I pull her against me, the blankets serving as a pretty damn effective barrier. I can’t feel even one curve of her body through them.
“Love you too,” I say and kiss her temple. As we fall asleep, my mind wanders to that scene in another old movie where the elf princess wanders through the forest, grief stricken because she outlived her king. That’s not going to be Charlotte and me, but the image persists and despite all the evening activity my sleep is restless.
17
Charlotte
Nate is gone when I wake up. He was restless last night, but I pretended to sleep. Cowardly I guess. I was afraid he had regrets, and I didn’t want to hear them. I have no regrets. Sitting up, I enjoy the pull on my muscles. The muscles in my upper back are tight from clutching his shoulders, and between my legs I’m sore in places I didn’t realize got sore. My lips curve up in a sly smile. I feel so knowledgeable this morning. Like every risqué joke ever told finally makes sense.
