Page 37 of Degrees of Control

She knew she was living on borrowed time. Her savings were dwindling and rent took almost her whole paycheck. In a couple of weeks she’d need to book her flight home. As much as she loved living in America, she couldn’t keep wearing battered clothes and skipping dinner to pay for the pill. It was getting downright Dickensian.

James re-entered the room wearing jeans and a plain black T-shirt that clung to him like cashmere. Feeling even shabbier by comparison, Charlie grabbed her handbag.

“Well, thanks for dinner and the encounter on your carpet,” she said as she tugged on her flats. “Do you have a number for a taxi?”

James put his hands in his pockets. “I’m giving you a ride.”

She shook her head. She was poorly funded, but she wasn’t anyone’s charity case. Especially his. “It’s okay, man, I’ll take a cab.”

James scowled. “I’m. Giving you. A ride.”

He looked so stern it was ridiculous to think that less than ten minutes ago she was embarrassing him over his preference for sexy underwear. “Well, thanks, James, more rice-money for me.”

They walked down to the car in silence. James’ brow was furrowed, as though something was weighing on him. Charlie had no capacity for awkward situations and desperately wanted to ask if he was okay, but forced herself to remember Sophia’s warning.He’s going to lose interest. Probably soon.As James himself had made clear, the two of them were fuck buddies, not lovers and not really friends.

“Where do you live?” he asked.

“Hartwell Street, Ashtown.”

Charlie scrambled into his ridiculously oversized truck and they traveled the first few blocks in silence, a warbling country singer aggravating her eardrums until Charlie couldn’t take it anymore. “Where’s your dog? I couldn’t hear him tonight.”

James frowned. “He’s not mine; I was watching him for my sister.”

The “don’t ask” couldn’t have been more apparent if he’d stamped it on his forehead. Fine. Charlie examined the glossy black dashboard in front of her.

Probably a present from his dad,she thought with a touch of bitterness.“Here, son, have a gigantic Tonka truck for Christmas so you can drive your lone wolf ass around.”

Money had never, and probably would never be, an issue for James. Like Sophia, he was from money, had a cushy job and probably owned his apartment and car outright. Charlie felt a pang of envy, knowing James lived so far away from her world of scrounging for rent and wearing your clothes to rags, they might have been from different planets. She tried not to be ungrateful about her lot in life, but it was hard not to idealize being born with rich parents. As she and James cruised the empty streets of Minneapolis, Charlie pictured his childhood. Horses, swimming pools, big birthday parties, brand-new clothes and luxury cars…

“Why don’t you have a bike?” James asked suddenly. “It would fit in with your whole…thing.”

Charlie smiled. “You mean my whole vegan, Birkenstocks, ‘save the whales’ thing?”

“Pretty much.”

She thought about being dismissive, but fuck it. If Mr. Bipolar wanted to act like everything was fine again, she’d go along with it. Tension was exhausting. “I’m scared of bikes.”

James huffed out a laugh. “Why?”

“When I was eight, I tied my Border Collie to my handlebars to try and power myself along. As anyone could have guessed, Butterscotch went mental and I ended up snapping both my front teeth in half. Haven’t been on a bike since.”

James opened his mouth and closed it again, a half-smile on his face.

“Are you dismissing my bike fear, James? Trying to make me all self-conscious?”

“Nothing like that, Miss Charlotte.”

“Plenty of people are scared of bikes, you know. It’s a dangerous way to get around.”

He laughed and her heart started pounding. Here she was trying to soften him up with humor once again. Clearly, she wasn’t just a bedroom masochist. He pulled onto her street. “Which is your place?”

“The house at the end—the dirtiest one on the block.” How she wished that was a joke.

James spotted it and made a low huffing noise that clearly denoted disapproval. Charlie couldn’t blame him, her whole street looked like a prison relocation scheme.

As soon as the car came to a complete stop she flung open her door and leapt out, her flats slapping on the sidewalk. “Okay, bye, James, see ya.”

She reached forward to shut the car door.

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