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“If you push her away again, you’ll lose her either way.”
He nods mutely. “I know.”
We sit in silence for a while, and he starts singing “Little Star” again. I hum along, still running my fingers through his hair.
“Trey?” he says finally, his gaze connecting with mine.
“Yeah?”
“Will you sleep with me in my room tonight?”
“Sure, buddy,” I say, and I help him up, and we head to bed.
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
LINCOLN
Charlie and I have come to an understanding. I told her I was sorry the day after my asshole moment on Thanksgiving night, but I wasn’t ready to talk about my issues, and she was certainly more forgiving than I deserved. I’m feeling extra guilty about the whole thing after Charlie’s panic attack with us. Her mom was clearly very important to her, and despite how I feel about Ellen Conner, I don’t want to damage Charlie’s memory of her mother.
As the Christmas holiday approaches, the three of us are practically inseparable—so much so that rumors are starting to spread about the nature of our relationship, but she either doesn’t notice (which is doubtful since Fiona is the queen of sniffing out gossip) or she doesn’t care. We all sit together during meals now—and I do mean all of us. Serenity and Charlie seem to have called a truce of sorts, so while they don’t acknowledge each other much, they at least seem civil.
I’ve also put a lot of energy into organizing Dr. Jackson’s final project, which has kept my mind busy. I connected the theater students with our English/film class so that they can start going over scripts, and I’ve been working with the film tech geeks to get all the recording equipment we need to actually filmthe student shorts. The whole thing has been more fun than I expected.
With finals coming up, my afternoons with Trey and Charlie are spent studying in the library, sprawled over beanbags like normal college students. Charlie laughs a lot, and so do I for once. And honestly, I’m soaking up the idea that maybe this is what my life should be like and could be like—though that line of thought always leads me back to the shit I’ve been keeping from Charlie.
I’ve decided that I need to talk to my dad about everything. As painful as it is, I never asked him about his side of the story, and I feel like it might give me some closure and the courage to actually confess to Charlie. Plus, I’m hoping it’ll help me to start to forgive him.
Today is a rare snow day in the Pacific Northwest, and Charlie manages to drag me from my comfort zone (but what else is new), showing up at our door adorned in a fuzzy green toque with a ridiculously big gray ball on the top and matching fuzzy mittens, her smile wide and infectious and her cheeks still rosy from the snow-laden air. She’s fucking breathtaking.
“You look like a child,” I say smirking as I pull on one of the long pigtails peeking from under her hat. She looks up at me, scowling, her forest eyes full of mock offense.
“I do not.” She gives me her best pout, and my heart unexpectedly flips in my chest. She shoves me back into the living room. “Now go get Trey and get dressed so we can play in the snow.”
I look down at her booted feet. “You’re dripping onto my floor.”
“You’re such a grouch.” She says and goes to push me again, but I catch her wrist, holding her in place. Her face is inches from mine, and I can feel her warm breath on my face.
Charlie leans forward and kisses me, her soft lips still cold from the outside air. I suppress a moan and swipe my tongue into her mouth, deepening the kiss.
Just then, an ice-cold jolt zips up my back and through my nerves like a full-body shock, and I jump away from her, yelping in surprise.
Charlie doubles over laughing.
“You play dirty,” I say, rubbing warmth back into my skin and giving her a dark look, but I can feel the smile tugging my lips. She lunges toward me with her ungloved hand.
“Don’t you dare touch me again,” I practically shriek, dodging her grasp and vaulting over the couch to put something between us.
“What the hell is going on?” Trey walks into the kitchen, rubbing his eyes sleepily. He glances between us, and I look over at him in outrage.
“Our girlfriend just ambushed me with her cold, undead hands.”
And then I freeze when I realize what I just said. We all do.
I look over at Charlie, who’s regarding me with raised eyebrows, and then back to Trey, who’s suppressing a laugh behind his hand.
Well, this is awkward.
I clear my throat and do what I do best—ignore the elephant in the room.
