Page 133 of The Charlie Method

“Exactly. It’s just leggings and a sweatshirt,” I say petulantly. “That’s not your usual outfit. Where’s the thigh highs? Where’s the pleated skirt? You’re supposed to be fulfilling my schoolgirl fantasy.”

She snorts and punches me in the chest, then bypasses me to step inside. “Sorry, but I don’t dress up for you, Ice Boy.”

“You should start, sugar puff. I dress up for you.”

“Oh really? You wore those gray sweatpants for me? And this T-shirt that’s so thin it looks like it’s going to fall apart if I pull on it?” As if to emphasize that, she tugs the fabric teasingly.

I grin at her. “I actually did wear this for you.”

“Oh really?” she repeats as she trails me into the living room.

“Statistically speaking, a woman’s sexual arousal heightens by three hundred percent at the sight of gray sweatpants.”

“The stats don’t lie,” Will calls from the sectional.

“Where are your sweatpants then?” she challenges. He’s wearing loose pants in a dark plaid and no shirt. Will runs hot.

“I didn’t want to arouse you too much,” he says with a solemn look. “It’s also common knowledge that too many sweatpants are overkill.”

“Stats don’t lie,” I concur.

“Hey,” she says as she sits in the middle section of the couch, “why can’t you trust a statistician?”

“Why?” Will asks suspiciously.

She pauses for effect. “Because they’re always plotting something.”

He sighs. “Why do I like you?”

Charlie breaks out in a smile. It’s nice to see her smiling. She seemed so down last time I saw her, at least before her distraction by orgasm.

Guilt pokes at me. I want to bring up her brother and ask how she’s doing, if she’s having an easier time processing everything.

Instead, I offer her a drink. “Green tea as usual?”

She lifts a brow. “Just because I had it once doesn’t mean it’s my usual drink order.”

“Okay, what do you want to drink then?”

“Green tea, please.”

My grin’s so big, my face actually hurts. This girl is too damn cute.

I go to the kitchen to turn on the electric kettle, then lean against the doorway between the two rooms while I wait for the water to boil. This time, I find the courage to broach a serious topic.

“You feeling any better about the whole brother situation?” I ask.

“Maybe a little.” She hesitates for a second. “Harrison told me my Korean name. The orphanage in Seoul didn’t bother including it in any of the adoption papers, but he remembers it.”

“Yeah?” I’m intrigued. “And?”

“It’s Hae-Won.” Pink splotches rise in her cheeks, and I can see the emotion in her eyes. This means a lot to her.

“Hae-Won,” Will repeats, a smile appearing. “I like it. That’s really pretty.”

“Thanks.” She smiles back, but it fades fast. “I still don’t know how to approach this, though. It’s so weird, suddenly having a sibling I never knew about. We’ve been texting all week, but it’s like trying to make friends with a stranger you met at a party one time. Trying to figure out what you have in common. What makes the other person tick. And it doesn’t help that Harrison had a really, really bad childhood.” Charlie wears a guilty look. “It’s a lot of effort, and a part of me wonders if it’s worth it. Like, I went twenty-one years without having this guy in my life and I was doing just fine.”

“I get that.” I offer a shrug. “But look, I’m an only child, and I spent a lot of time growing up wishing I had a sibling. I still think about it sometimes.”

---