Page 14 of Charlie Sunshine
“Have you done that at work before? I can’t say I’ve ever noticed.”
He elbows me and chortles, and I watch him affectionately. We’ve been friends since the day we met as green newbies, and I’ve never met anyone who seems less suited for the world of banking and investment. He’s perennially cheerful, laidback, and easygoing. He’s also extremely posh and would probably be at his happiest pottering around on his country estate with an equally posh wife and twenty kids running everywhere. However, his father decreed that he had to have a career, and Rupert drifted into finance. Luckily, he’s excellent at it. He’s got a genius for the markets.
He leans closer. “Eat your cake,” he murmurs. “Your scowl is attracting attention.”
I look up and find Charlie watching me anxiously while Harry hangs on him and shoots me a smug smile. Harry seems to think that by going out with Charlie he’s won some sort of contest with me. If I didn’t know how brilliant Charlie is, I’d have suspected Harry was with him to get back at me. As if we were still at school. But I know he’s mad on Charlie with the emphasis on the wordmad.
He’s obsessed with Charlie’s looks to the extent that he ignores everything else that makes Charlie brilliant. And, yes, Charlie has aface that makes people take second and third looks, with high wide cheekbones and full lips and all that hair. But his face is also full of kindness and an easy acceptance, and that’s the true source of his beauty. It certainly brings all the boys to his yard.
I also have the unpleasant knowledge that if it came down to a competition between Harry and me with Charlie, then Harry would win. I’d found that out when I voiced my opinion of him too loudly, and Charlie had turned on me.
People might think that Charlie’s soft and gentle, and he’s certainly all that, but he’s also the most loyal person you can meet. Of course, the person to whom he’s most loyal is his boyfriend—a fact that, as his best friend, was hard for me take. It had been a horrible realisation that one day someone would take my special place at his side, and I’d be relegated to the support acts.
“Hello, Harry,” says Jesse over-enthusiastically. “I haven’t seen you since quiz night at the King’s Head.” Zeb nudges him, and Jesse obviously recalls that it was the night that Charlie and I had the stand-up row at the bar about Harry. “Such a nice night amongst good friends,” he says vaguely, and Zeb snorts.
“Harry,” I say in a smooth voice. “How lovely to see you.” I pause. “In my flat. And not at work. With your shoes off. Getting comfortable. In my flat.”
“Misha,” Charlie says warningly and Harry grabs him, one hand lowering and squeezing his arse.
Like he’s checking it to see if it’s ripe, I think sourly.
“Don’t worry, babe,” Harry says. “It’s just Misha being funny.” He kisses Charlie’s neck.
“That’s me,” I say coolly, suppressing my frown. “Sofunny.”
I bite into my cake to break up the awkwardness and then groan under my breath at the taste and take another quick bite. When I look up, everyone is watching me.
“Do you want us to give you some privacy?” Zeb asks dryly, and I raise my middle finger at him.
Charlie switches his attention to the TV. “Yay,” he says happily. “It’s bread week.”
“Whatever,” Harry says with a chortle, pulling Charlie down to sit on his lap.
Charlie immediately looks rather awkward, and I narrow my eyes.Trouble in paradise? Good.
Harry squeezes his arse. “Good job you’re pretty, babe, because your TV choices aren’t exactly highbrow.”
Charlie immediately looks embarrassed, and rage stirs inside me at Harry.Patronising wanker. “What the fuckishighbrow?” I ponder. “Unless it’s a receding hairline, in which case Charlie has no worries with all that hair of his.”
Harry holds up one hand. “Whoa. No need to go on the defensive. I was just teasing, wasn’t I, babe? Charlie knows how much I love his brain. He’s the full package.” He cups Charlie’s groin, and Charlie immediately wriggles away, glaring at Harry.
I watch them, aware of the frown on my face. Charlie glances up and our gazes clash. His eyes are a stormy blue, and I immediately look away in case he decides to chastise me for sticking up for him.
The space around us provides plenty of distractions. The lounge is so drastically different from the way it looked last week. Then it had been black leather and clean lines. Now the exposed brick walls are covered in the bookshelves we’d bought this afternoon, filled by the colourful spines of Charlie’s books. The orange velvet sofa looks warm and bright against the wide wooden planks of the floor, and even the white walls look warmer somehow.
Charlie’s jacket is slung over the leather chair in the corner, and his shoes have been kicked off under the window. Usually, I’d go ballistic about any mess, but somehow it seems right. Like a home, I realise. There’s even a candle burning on the small table next to me. I roll my eyes. One day the world will run out of matches to light Charlie’s candles, such is his obsession with them. This one smells sweet like honey and reminds me of the way his bedrooms have always smelt no matter where he lived.
Rupert nudges me. “You’re deep in thought. Don’t you want to hear what Paul Hollywood has to say?”
“I’d rather eat my own tonsils.”
“I must say I’d rather eat those than your cooking.”
“So funny,” I lament as he chuckles, the sound as warm as his personality. “Why are you here, again?” I ask him. “Is it the cake too?”
He shudders and pats his stomach. “I’d be the size of a house if I lived with Charlie. How are you going to cope?”
“Add another gym session and a run.” I take another bite of cake. “It’s totally worth it,” I say with my mouth full.
