Page 64 of Charlie and Her Sweet Escape
Of course he did.
She pulled her knife from the holder on her belt and handed it to me.
“I’m not going to hack your hair off.”
“Please? I don’t have a mirror. It’ll look even worse if I do it.”
I didn’t want to do this, but I also didn’t want to be the kind of guy (cough—Greg—cough) who didn’t listen to Charlie and trust she knew what she was doing. “Alright, sit here. And drink the rest of your water, please.”
To my surprise, she crawled over my legs to sit between them. They were stretched on either side of her, and when she crossed her legs, her knees rested against my calves.
I had to swallow before I could speak. “How short do you want it?”
“Above my shoulders.”
I blew out a nervous breath as I held a small chunk of her hair and let the knife glide through it. Luckily, the knife was new and sharp, and the hair didn’t give any resistance as it fell.
I paused to see if Charlie flinched or changed her mind, but she only hummed a song she and I were making up in the evenings before we went to bed. The tune was a mash-up of three of Lia’s songs, and the words were mostly about the foods we’d eat if given the chance. It was a true work of art. Lia was definitely going to want to license it for her next album.
“Maybe we should add a verse about salt,” I mused. My fingers grazed the back of her neck as I lifted some hair that hadgotten stuck under her shirt. She shivered, and I didn’t know if it was from my touch or the breeze.
I did it again, on purpose this time, and saw goose bumps rise along arms. Satisfaction rolled through me. She was as affected as me.
But why was I playing with fire?
“Mmhmm,” she said, her voice raspy. “Salt.”
Her shoulders relaxed as I cut her hair. I allowed myself the pleasure of sliding the backs of my fingers along her exposed skin—her neck, her cheek, her ear—as I separated out more hair to cut.
Her breathing hitched as my knuckles brushed against her collarbone. “Is this okay?”
“Yes.” She breathed out the word more than said it. She visibly swallowed. “It already feels better.”
She knew I hadn’t been talking about the haircut, but I’d let her pretend. Ineededto let her pretend. Because it was all pretend—even if it didn’t always feel like it.
I knelt in front of her to cut the rest, needing the space to bring my brain back into working order. Charlie closed her eyes, deeply breathing in the fresh mountain air. Her eyelids were still swollen from crying.
Being out here, in nature, was centering. Cleansing. And that’s what I hoped all of Charlie’s crying was for her, too. A way to purge the sadness and heartbreak of Greg, and to find a path forward where she’d be even happier. She deserved it so much. She deserved the world.
“It’s going to get better.” I gently combed my fingers through her hair to find any strands I’d missed. She let out a pleasurable hum when my fingers scratched her scalp.
“What is?” Her voice was dreamy with relaxation.
“All this sadness. Not at first. At first, it hurts so much, it feels like survival is a constant decision, but then one day you wake up, and it’s not quite as bad as it’s been.”
“Was that how it was for you after Lily …” She looked up at me and met my gaze.
“Said no to my proposal.” No one wanted to ever finish that sentence, and I couldn’t blame them. I’d proposed to her privately, just the two of us, but the rejection felt as public as if I’d knelt in front of the Jumbotron at a Peaks hockey game. “I may have wallowed much longer than advisable, but it really did get better.”
“Do you regret proposing?”
I continued to let her hair slip through my fingers, the act of it calming. I didn’t like talking about this, but I was the one who’d brought it up. And maybe it was finally time. “Yes. I wish I could say no and be all wise about experience and who I’ve become because of it. But honestly, if I knew how it was going to turn out, I never would have proposed.” In fact, I would have run in the other direction instead of asking her out all those years ago.
On the day Lily and I had our first real conversation, I’d gone to their house to pick Charlie up for a softball game, and Lily had been there instead. We started talking—she’d even convinced me to skip the softball game that night—and that was it for me. By the time Charlie got home from class, where she’d been held up by a TA who wanted her to redo an entire lab, Lily and I were holding hands on the couch, and I was counting down the minutes until I could see her again.
“Lily and I weren’t a good fit, but I thought she was everything I wanted. She has this way of taking charge and being bold, and I liked that. It was easy to be in a relationship with her.”
Lily was Charlie’s cousin, and I knew she adored her, for good reason. Lily was the kind of person who would come to her cousin’s last-minute wedding, even though it was to her ex, and not try to talk us out of it. She was willing to stand in as maid of honor with Rosie, even though the two fought like rabid raccoons.
