Page 10 of Man Glitter
He just shrugged like it wasn’t the most beautiful structure I’d ever seen. “I make all kinds of things, but my favorite jobs are when I can make a structure more than just a structure. I want everything I make to be a work of art that can be appreciated for decades.”
I shook my head slowly, seeing him with new eyes. The man was an incredibly talented artist. And I’d just cut his thumb so badly he couldn’t work. Tears filled my eyes, and I forced them back. No need to get all emotional just because I’d carelessly stolen someone’s livelihood. Not even stole. Just put on hold. A temporary pause.
“Ah, you got the good shit,” Charlie announced, having opened all the food containers from the diner. He threw some fried chicken, a biscuit, fried artichokes, and calamari, fresh from the fisherman that morning who supplied Auburn Hill with seafood, on a plate and handed it to me.
I nodded my thanks, happy to see his bandaged hand looked no worse for wear since I’d cleaned and re-bandaged it this morning. Taking a bite of the chicken, I groaned. The juices threatened to spill down my chin, and I tried to mop them up with my hand.
Charlie’s whooping laugh had me looking up, my mouth full. “Aren’t you glad I brought napkins?” He held one out to me and I took it gratefully. “Something hot about a woman chowing down on some fried chicken and groaning.”
“Oh shush,” I said around my bite, wiping my chin and blushing.
He sat down next to me with his own plate of food, the conversation dying out as we dug in. The pine trees around us swayed gently in the light breeze and not a sound could be heard that wasn’t from nature herself. It wasn’t an uncomfortable silence, which surprised me. Maybe Charlie and I were friends after all.
“Okay, it’s time for the really good stuff.” Charlie put his plate down on the bench and reached for the moonshine with his good hand. “Here. Open this and take a swig. Tell me it’s not the best thing since that fried chicken recipe.”
I took the glass jar and got the lid off, but shook my head. “I’m going to pass. I’m not exactly a moonshine person.”
Charlie scoffed, that damn twinkle in his eye sparkling. “Everybody’s a moonshine person, Doc.” He elbowed me in the side. “I bet you haven’t even tasted moonshine before.”
I sniffed. “You’d be right. I’ll just drink my wine, thank you very much.”
Charlie sat up tall, refusing to take the jar of moonshine. “Nope. I’m not taking no for an answer. Haven’t you ever heard of a ‘no thank you bite’? This here is a ‘no thank you sip’. Come on now, just a sip.” He reached over to nudge the jar closer to my mouth.
I rolled my eyes, no will power against Charlie’s peer pressure. “Okay fine. Just one sip so I can say I tried it.”
The cool liquid hit my mouth, and I sputtered as the taste slammed into me. The smell went up my nose and made my eyes water. I swallowed just to get it out of my mouth, coughing violently and nearly spilling the rest. The burn went all the way down my esophagus before hitting my stomach.
Charlie burst out laughing and rescued the jar from my hands. I wanted to hurt him as much as that shit was hurting me. I couldn’t even take a full breath. Everything in my body was on fire like I’d swallowed lit kerosene.
“What…the hell…was that?” I sputtered, pounding my chest to clear it.
Charlie whooped some more and Chester came by my side, whining, sensing I needed comforting. I pet his head and tried to regulate my breathing. Charlie took a large swig of the moonshine and I winced.
“How do you do that?”
He put the jar down and grabbed his phone. “I grew up on it, so it’s not that bad. I hear it’s an acquired taste so you may just have to keep trying it.”
I sputtered, “Oh no, I’m not drinking that ever again. I’ll just stick with my wine.” I unscrewed the top of the bottle I’d bought at the grocery store that afternoon and took a swig since I didn’t have a glass. He could have his moonshine and I’d have the wine.
A song started playing, making me jump. I swung my head around to find the source and saw tiny little speakers up in the rafters of the pergola. Charlie pocketed his phone after selecting a playlist. All the head swinging made me a little dizzy, and I wondered how much alcohol was in that moonshine.
“May I have this dance?” Charlie bowed formally, his palm extended, which looked ridiculous with all the man glitter still in his hair. The guy was a walking, talking contradiction.
“Oh no, I’m good. I don’t really dance.” Time spent pressed against that chest that drove me out of my mind? No way.
“Ah, come on, Finnie,” he whispered, that smirk speaking to the juncture between my thighs. The alcohol flowing through my veins softened my resolve to the point I had none.
“Fine…” I huffed, standing up and taking his hand.
He immediately twirled me into his arms, tossing me off balance. I landed against his chest, my palm landing on one smooth pec muscle beneath the worn cotton. And once I felt the goods, I felt compelled to keep exploring. My hand slid over his shoulder and then up his neck and into his hair. I could grab a fistful in the overgrown strands, so I did.
Charlie growled, more vibration than sound, pulling me in close and putting his hands low on my back. The move pressed him in tight, his obvious erection digging into my belly. My heart thundered in my chest and I wondered if he could feel that too. He shifted left, and I went with him. The beat of the song stayed slow and as we swayed, we stared at each other in silence. His blue eyes were hooded even as he kept the small smile in place. Even the crickets had quieted down amongst all that charged air between us.
Chester barked an alarm and scrambled to his feet, dashing off down the trail. I jumped out of Charlie’s arms, startled and breathing hard. What the hell was I doing? Charlie was my neighbor, and I was only here to doctor his hand, not dirty dance with him under romantic string lights in the middle of the night.
“D-do you think we should see where he went?” I asked, looking anywhere but at Charlie.
From the corner of my eye, he stood, still frozen in place where we’d been dancing. He didn’t even bother to look over to where Chester had darted off.
