We both fall silent as she walks away, awkwardness setting in.
Charlie’s cheeks are bright red and he huffs out a laugh. “I meant writing,” he mutters. “I’ve gotwritingto do.”
Pretty sure this evening can’t get any worse, so I meet Charlie’s gaze. “Can we start again?” He frowns, so I add quickly, “This is so not how I wanted this evening to go.”
“Oh? What were you hoping for?”
So many things I could say to that, I have to bite my tongue. I can’t help my smile, though, and thankfully, Charlie laughs even though he’s blushing again.
“Let me rephrase.” He opens his mouth, then scrunches his nose. “Actually, I think it’s a fair question.”
Okay then. “Honestly? I just wanted to spend time with you, nothing more than that.” Charlie tilts his head, probably wondering if I’m telling the truth or not. Maybe I need to be blunt. “We’re in a country pub. There’s not much expectation forpicking someone up for sex. Besides,” I add, because I might as well lay it all out there. “It’s not really my scene.” I realise a beat too late that if that’s what he’d been hoping for, I might’ve just ruined my chances.
I’m not lying though.
I’ve tried the casual-sex thing, more than once. After the initial high, I tend to feel a bit meh afterward.
Charlie takes a sip of his drink.
I half expect him to chug the rest of it and make his excuses to leave. He sets it carefully back on the table instead and flicks his tongue out to catch a drop of Coke from his bottom lip.
My gaze snags on the movement, a flare of heat in my belly catching me by surprise. I shift positions. And yeah, I might not like the aftermath of a hook-up, but Charlie is hot. Iwouldbe lying if I said I wasn’t tempted. When he still hasn’t said anything, I turn his question back on him. “Were you hoping for sex?”
I manage to ask him that just as he takes another drink, and the coughing fit that follows has Charlie’s eyes watering. I lean over the table and shove his abandoned Coke closer to him. “Shit, I’m so sorry.”
He grins, wiping tears from his eyes. “If I wrote this whole scene in one of my books”—he waves a finger between the two of us—“readers would call it unrealistic.”
I glance down at my cream-topped hot chocolate and his half-empty Coke. “Which bit?”
“All of it. Two gay—” He stops, raising a questioning eyebrow, carrying on when I nod. “—men meeting up for a Coke and a hot chocolate. And neither of them wanting the night to end in sex.”
Oh.
I have no right to be disappointed that he’s not after a hook-up either, but I am. My face clearly telegraphs everything because Charlie frowns.
“Right?”
Ugh. I scrub a hand through my hair and give him a wry smile. “It’s not that I don’t want it. It’s more, I don’t want the feeling that comes after.” I gesture to him, debating whether to say what’s on the tip of my tongue. Ahh, fuck it. “You’re really hot.”
His eyes widen a second before his smile stretches wide. “Thanks.” He deliberately gives me a thorough look, letting his gaze linger on my mouth. “So are you.”
That spark of warmth is back. So is my smile. I wish I wasn’t so fucking needy sometimes, but it is what it is. My self-esteem has taken a few too many knocks recently.
“So,” I say, feeling a little more confident that we’re on the same page. “With all that in mind, and the fact that you’re only here for a couple of weeks, I didn’t have anything planned for tonight other than getting to know you a bit better.” I sit back and take a drink, moaning at the rich chocolate and cream combo.
Charlie clears his throat. “Um... You’ve got a little cream...” He taps his finger at the side of his mouth, so I flick out my tongue to catch whatever he’s pointing at. He groans and shakes his head. “Not fair.”
It takes me way longer than it should to catch on.
Oh.
“I’ve spent the last eleven months regretting not asking for your number that night?”
Recognition sparks in his eyes. “I wasn’t in a good place.”
“I know. But I liked what little I got to see of you. I wanted to know if you were okay. If things worked out for you, or...” I let it hang there, leaving it up to him to answer or not. I doubtanything would’ve happened if we’d swapped numbers when we first met, but it felt like a missed opportunity, however brief.
He reaches for his drink, then sighs before setting it back down without having any. “If you mean did I get back with Dan—the bloke who drove off and left me—then no.”
