Page 117 of The Charlie Method

So I push away the insecurities and focus on enjoying the holiday with my family.

Later that night, I curl up in my childhood bedroom and take in the familiar surroundings. I was always a little extra when it came to the posters on my walls. No masking tape on the corners for Charlotte, thank you very much. All my posters are framed. Even the one of Mollie May, which shows her at age sixteen during her first live concert. I was obsessed with her when she first hit the scene. She’s in her early twenties now, and I’m still sort of obsessed. Her last album slayed.

My phone buzzes with a text. I take one look and let out a groan of distress.

They started a group chat.

I rub my forehead and roll onto my back, wishing there were an easy answer to my Will and Beckett predicament. I haven’t stopped thinking about that night. The memory of it swarms my thoughts at least once an hour. God. The sex was mind-blowing.

But…mind-blowing sex isn’t a good enough reason to feel bad about myself again.

I’m about to delete the message, but curiosity wins out. Groaning softly, I give myself permission to read the words on the screen.

BECKETT:

Hey. It’s Beckett. Will gave me your number, so I’m creating this group chat. But I promise this will be the only message in here, unless you want more. I just wanted to say—it really upsets me that you feel shame because you didn’t do anything to be ashamed of. I—we—loved every second of being with you. You’re beautiful, smart, funny, exciting. I could write an entire paragraph about how incredible you are. Which says a lot, because I don’t usually do this sappy shit, as Larsen can attest. Don’t judge yourself for having a good time. Fuck what the rest of the world thinks and the people who might judge you. Your wild, fearless side is my favorite thing about you. You’re beautiful inside and out, Charlie. Never forget that.

CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

CHARLOTTE

Unfamiliar world

ON THETUESDAY BACK ON CAMPUS AFTERTHANKSGIVING, IDO THEunthinkable.

I skip class.

Classes plural, in fact. I’m not only bailing on Climate Policy, but I’m not planning on attending my engineering lab either. Beckett’s message has been haunting me for days. I don’t want to see him or Will today. My emotions are too raw.

And what better balm for the affliction of raw emotions than lunch with the biological brother you never knew existed until a month ago?

Maybe I should have just gone to class.

But it’s too late to back out now. Harrison is already waiting for me outside Della’s Diner when I round the building from the parking lot. He’s bundled up in a black down jacket and plaid scarf, his cheeks reddened by the frigid wind. When I approach, he greets me with a tentative smile.

“Hey.”

“Hi.”

We stand there for a moment, eyeing each other. This is…a lot more awkward than I anticipated.

“Should we go inside?” Harrison finally asks. The amused note in his voice cuts through some of the discomfort.

“I don’t know. I figured we would stand outside in the cold for this,” I quip. “Really heighten the intensity of the moment.”

He snickers and reaches for the door handle.

We find a quiet booth in the back and shrug out of our coats, sliding in across from each other.

“Green tea, please,” I tell the waitress when she arrives to take our drink orders and deliver some menus.

“I’ll have a coffee,” Harrison says. “Thanks.”

Once she’s gone, he clasps his hands together on the tabletop. Neither of us speak. We’re back to eyeing each other, as if we’re both trying to discern the resemblance. Or at least that’s whatI’mdoing.

He doesn’t look like the male version of me, but I do note similarities. We have the same mouth. The way it turns slightly upward at the corners, like we’re sporting a perpetual smirk. His hair is the exact shade of black as mine. His eyebrows are the same shape, though mine are thinner.

Tears prick my eyelids.

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