Page 93 of Nerdplay
Charlie is gone when I wake up. The rain has stopped, thank goodness. I’ll have to make sure none of the other cabins flooded during the night and assess the damage to Charlie’s cabin.
I get out of bed and pad to the bathroom, grateful for the return to privacy. Having Charlie in my space was tough—for multiple reasons. I brush my teeth, unable to get the image of him out of my mind. At one point in the night, I woke up in a twisted position to find my leg crossed over his. I swung it back to my side and pressed my back against the wall to keep it from happening again.
Our talk last night was the most open and honest one we’ve had since his arrival. I’m grateful he felt like he could talk to me. A small, critical voice in my head wonders whether to believe him, that maybe his vulnerability is part of the con. It wouldn’t be the first time a man used my compassion against me. I found it hard to trust after that, especially when it’s someone I’m attracted to. Maybe the attraction is coloring my perception. I’d have to talk to Gloria or Ben, except then they’d know I had the hots for Charlie. I can’t share that information with the others.
Angela might be a good candidate for a confession. She’s no-nonsense when it comes to men. If she thinks Charlie is full of shit, she won’t hesitate to say so.
I resolve to speak to her in private the next chance I get, but without divulging the specifics. I don’t want to break Charlie’s trust just because he might be breaking mine.
The more I think about it, the more I think his stories were real, especially the one about his father’s critiques. He actually seemed surprised by the memory, like maybe he’d repressed it. I have no doubt there’s an unhealthy amount of repression going on in the Thorpe family.
I bring a stack of towels to Charlie’s cabin and leave them on the floor to soak up the remaining water. He’s already returned his duffel bag to the room, but there’s no sign of him. No one else reports flooding in their cabins, so I decide to knock on Angela’s door before breakfast.
“Come in, honey.”
I open the door and enter the cabin. “How did you know it was me?”
Angela pokes her head through the bathroom doorway. “I didn’t, but everyone here is ‘honey’ to me.”
That tracks.
I stand in the doorway as she puts on her makeup. She peers at her reflection in the mirror and groans.
“What?”
“I look like I have two of Tom Selleck’s mustaches above my eyes.”
“How could Tom Selleck have two mustaches?”
She glares at me in the mirror. “You’re missing the point. My eyebrows look like very hungry caterpillars that have eaten their way through a picnic.”
“Think of it this way then: soon they’ll transform into beautiful butterflies and fly away. Problem solved.”
She squints at herself. “You’re not wrong. I’ve seen makeup artists on YouTube do amazing work with eyebrow pencils.” She starts to dig through her makeup bag. “I don’t think I brought one.”
I lean against the doorjamb. “I need your advice.”
She whirls around to face me. “This is about Charlie, isn’t it?”
My head jerks up. “How did you guess?”
“You can’t be serious. You two have been circling each other like horny sharks all week.”
I don’t love the image of horny sharks. “How do I know whether I can trust him?”
“Oh, sweetie. Is this about Patrick?”
I shrink back at the mention of his name. “No, I’m asking about Charlie. Why would you bring up He Who Shall Not Be Named?”
“Because that’s why you’re wondering. You trusted Patrick, cared for him, and he betrayed you. Now you’ve developed feelings for Charlie, and you’re scared.” She flicks a finger. “Been there many times over.”
“You?” I laugh. “You’ve never been scared when it comes to men.”
“I’m like a duck, darling. All you see is me gliding across the surface. What you don’t see are my little webbed feet splashing frantically beneath the water.”
Her confession shocks me. It hadn’t occurred to me that Angela would be afraid of anything.
“You’re thirty-two, darling. When was the last time you went into the city or had a date?”
