I chuckle as she finishes, and my shoulders relax. “You wanna keep me a secret, pumpkin?”
She rolls her eyes, and my dick has the audacity to twitch.
Charlie rolling her eyes? Really? That’s what’s doing it for me these days?
“It’s not a secret. They’re the ones who pushed for this to begin with, which also means they’re highly invested. I think not knowing will annoy them, which I’m fine with, but it’ll also give us the security of knowing there aren’t four other people involved.” She doodles something on the corner of the page and then covers it up by scribbling all over it. “Does that make sense?” She scrunches her face up as she draws a square around the doodle, coloring that in more carefully.
“Yeah, carrot cake, that makes sense. Do we need to sign this thing? Make it official?” I keep my tone light, thankful she’s moved on from my outburst, and my nerves have, too.
“Uh, no? I mean, we can just have a verbal agreement, right?” She sits back, shoulders stiffening.
I keep fucking this up. “Yeah. Yes. Of course. Sorry. I was joking. It was stupid. I make stupid jokes sometimes. I’m sorry. But please don’t put anything in there about not being able to make jokes because, I swear, I can’t help it. It’s a factory setting that can’t be toggled off, you know? Shit. There I go again. That was a joke. Jesus. Fuck. I gotta stop. I’m sorry. Dumb things just come out of my mouth sometimes, and then they just keep coming. I’ll try harder not to be such an idiot.” I feel the sweat build on my palms and rub my hands on my thighs as I try to calm down. Apparently, the anxiety from before hasn’t fully left my body yet.
“I’m going to add a number four in here. We will ask for what we need, and the other person will respect it, period, no questions asked,” she says as she writes quickly. “I need some time and space to process. And if I had to guess, since I’ve never seen you this flustered before, I would say you need them, too.” She sets the pen down. “Am I right?”
It feels like there’s jet fuel running through my veins right now. “Yeah. You’re right.” I need to go for a long run. A very long run.
“Right. I’ll go, then.” Charlie stands, and I do the same. I watch as she packs her things back into a bag. She takes off in the direction of the front door, and I follow. “We can text and sort out our next meeting,” she says as she walks away. She slips her shoes on and adjusts her bag on her shoulder. “And Rafael?”
“Yeah?” I look up at her face, finally, finding her slightly flushed.
“You are not an idiot.” The way she says this like she’s stating a fact as true as the color of the sky, has me swaying on the spot. “I’ll see you later.”
And just like that, she walks out of my house.
I don’t bother putting shoes on. I rip off my socks and walk to the backyard, where the skipping rope is hanging.
And I skip.
I skip until I can’t catch my breath. Until the bottoms of my feet hurt. Until I’m too tired to think of anything other than my exhaustion. Until I can wipe her words clean from my brain.
14/
you actually like something about me?
rafael
CHARLIE:
Hi. Can I ask some questions about your dyslexia?
I’m sorry if that’s rude.
I just haven’t been able to stop thinking about it, and the research I’m doing isn’t exactly clear since this seems to be a little different depending on the person.
It’s been six hours since Charlie left my house. After skipping, I worked out for nearly an hour, then ate enough food to feed a family of four, and still, my brain has not stopped replaying the last five words she said to me. This seems to be a recurring theme in my life since meeting Charlie—the words that she says stick to me like they’re feathers, and I’m covered in Elmer’s Glue.
CHARLIE:
Okay. That was rude.
I’m sorry.
You don’t have to answer me.
But can you also not ignore me?
Because it’s hard for me to deal with rejection, and being ignored feels like rejection.