Total pages in book: 99
Estimated words: 93806 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 469(@200wpm)___ 375(@250wpm)___ 313(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 93806 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 469(@200wpm)___ 375(@250wpm)___ 313(@300wpm)
“You don’t have to answer to me, Charlie.” Her voice is quieter as she lowers her hand in defeat.
I step closer, and this time she doesn’t move, which is good. Pulling her to the side for more privacy, I back her against the wall. “I came tonight because Rachel texted me and said you’d be here. I’m here for you, not her.”
“She did?”
I nod, and a small smile grows as she processes that information, her features softening under my gaze. “I’m sorry. I overreacted. Tough week . . . for both of us.”
“Yeah, tough week.” I’ll blame the heaviness of the week if that makes it easier for her to accept her jealousy. “I’ll hold your drink and wait here if you still need to use the restroom.”
“Okay. Thank you.”
I watch as she pushes the door open, her body less rigid. She glances back over her shoulder, and our eyes meet before the door closes.
I get a few looks, but no one bothers me since it’s apparent I’m waiting for someone because of the two drinks in my hands.
When she returns, she’s smiling. “I don’t like this drink. Can I try yours?”
“Sure.”
I watch as her lips press against the glass, and she sips it oh-so slow. “That’s much better.” And with that, all the bad from minutes earlier seems to be forgotten.
“Let’s remedy that and get you one.”
We walk through the crowd, past Rachel and Justin, who don’t even notice us, to the bar. I’ve kept my hand on her lower back, not able to stop myself from touching her.
After I buy her another drink, she asks, “Do you dance?”
“Not if I don’t have to.”
That makes her laugh, and hearing her laughter makes me laugh, too. “I love to dance, but I don’t like the bump and grind kind of dancing unless I’m dating the guy. I don’t like strangers groping me.”
I look over at the dance floor. “That’s all they’re doing out there.” I lean in closer and whisper, “And I wouldn’t like strangers groping you either.” Her eyes seek mine, sparkling from the spotlights over the bar. I lean back, resting my elbows on the bar so I’m eye level with her. “What do you like to do for fun, Charlie?”
Smiling as if embarrassed, she laughs under her breath. Her shy side is back. “I like to bake. I know, I know.” She rolls her eyes. “My friends used to call me lame for it, but I find it relaxing. It’s a science to me, an experiment.”
How can I not like that? “What do you like to bake?”
“Cakes and cupcakes. Cupcakes are all the rage right now with all these cupcake bakeries popping up everywhere, but I still prefer to make my own.”
“I have a terrible sweet tooth. You might have met your match.” I’m not talking about baking.
“I should make you some. My coworkers have forbidden me from bringing any more in since they all gained weight.” She laughs again. “What’s your favorite flavor? No, wait! Don’t answer that. I’ll guess.”
“How about instead of guessing, you make some, and we’ll go from there.”
“A challenge? I like a good challenge.” She looks me over, analyzing everything about me physically as if that will lead her to my favorite flavor. The next thing she says takes me by surprise. “How about Wednesday?”
She’s setting a date. I like that. “I’m good on Wednesday.”
“You can come over after work—”
“I can bring dinner.”
“And I can bake.” She looks excited, probably because of the baking part, but I like to think it’s about us spending time together again.
I turn back to my drink, deciding I need to finish it and stop staring at the girl. I don’t want to creep her out. I order another, and we chat, getting to know each other in a different way. Although, I feel like I know her—the real Charlie—already.
When we talk about our work, she seems impressed. “Following your dreams. I love that,” she says, wistful.
After another round of cocktails, we look for our friends. A bit unsteady on our feet, we can’t find either of them and joke that they might be hooking up as we speak.
I can tell Charlie is heading toward drunk, so I offer to help her home.
“What time is it?” she asks as we walk out of the club, the brisk spring air hitting us.
“Late,” I reply. “It’s after one.”
“It doesn’t feel that late, and I’m not tired.”
I grab her elbow to steady her as she begins to sway. “It is, though. Let’s take a cab.” We get in the short cab line and wait.
“I can take a taxi by myself. You don’t have to worry about me.” She wraps her arm around my mine, holding me close, keeping her warm.
No way am I sending her in a cab this late by herself. I’m going with her. “No, it’s fine.”