Page 32 of Hope for the Best

"Come in!" I called.

"What's up," Charlie said, coming in.

"What's up with you?" I replied from the kitchen. My laundry closet was in my kitchen and I closed the folding door just as he came inside. "I was picking up some clothes," I continued. "I took a shower when I got home."

He crossed to my kitchen, and I smiled at him. He made my apartment look small. He had filled out some in the last few months. He had on a shirt that seemed a little tighter on him than it was last month. It was a cream-colored shirt with a faded fishing logo on the front. I read the logo, staring at the shapes of his chest underneath. I had seen him without the shirt earlier in the night, and I had been a little distracted by his chest then and now.

I tore my eyes off of him. Stacy had me all wound up about kissing men—I told myself that was the only reason I was noticing Charlie's chest, and his arms, and his mouth. I continued looking away, busying myself in the kitchen.

"Would you like something to drink?" I asked.

"Water is good," he said.

I grabbed two glasses out of the cupboard and filled one of them with filtered water from the fridge before handing it to him.

"Thank you," he said.

He took it from me and during the transfer, our hands barely brushed.

What was wrong with me?We touched each other all the time. We were friends and we hung out all the time.And now I'm noticing when his hand touches two of my fingers?I thought of Stacy and the fact that I wouldn't be aware of any of this had she not been hyping me up.

Then I remembered Savannah, and I remembered I couldn’t be with Charlie. I thought of her, and again I saw Charlie as only a friend.

"You did really good tonight," I said, feeling proud of him. "And your hair looks great. I didn't get to say anything, but I really like it."

Charlie ran his hand through his hair. It was shorter now, but not as short as it used to be.

"It's a nice haircut," I said. "It makes you look fancy, like you should've come over here on a yacht."

Charlie smiled. "I have yacht hair? I'm not sure if that's a compliment."

"Sure it is. Yacht-anything is a compliment."

"Your face, too," I said.

Charlie rubbed his jaw. "I have a yacht face?" he asked reluctantly.

I laughed. "No, you shaved. I was noticing you shaved, but I didn't get to mention it. It looks good. You've been working your way there, anyway, getting shorter last week."

He nodded since my assessment was accurate.

"Do you want to go walking?" I asked.

"Sure," he said. He tilted his head back and drained his glass before setting it on the counter next to him.

"Right now?" I asked.

He shrugged. "I'm not in a big hurry. What's this? I noticed it the other day when I was here, but I didn't ask." Charlie pointed at a small painting of a flower on my kitchen wall.

"It's by one of our little patients," I said. "She's got a bunch of health stuff going on, so we see her regularly. Oh, I've told you about her. Little Jade. She painted that for me for Christmas last year."

"And this?" he asked, pointing at a cartoon drawing on my fridge that was drawn with a ballpoint pen on a napkin from Stacy's restaurant. It was a character—a hot-pepper-looking character, but he had a face and arms and legs. He was riding a skateboard.

"That's by Landon."

"Did he copy it off of something?" he asked.

"No, he likes to draw food with faces. I think on the other side there's a…" I reached up and took the napkin off of the fridge and turned it over. There was a drawing of a long, skinny churro with a top hat. I flashed it at Charlie and he laughed.

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