“Me neither,” Scott said, turning to head into the kitchen, still holding Chewie close. Maybe he shouldn’t have been babying him, but it was hard not to. He was so innocent and helpless, Scott couldn’t stop himself from wanting to swoop in and protect him.
Charlie followed him, and the rest of the dogs followed Charlie. They’d give up on him when they realized he didn’t have anything for them, but in the meantime, Charlie seemed to be enjoying the attention.
While Scott filled the coffee pot, Charlie sat down on the edge of the kitchen table, the dogs still gathered around his feet. He kept petting them, telling them how good and cute they were, and they were all lapping it up.
Being good with dogs was the sign of a good person, Scott thought. Dogs could smell people’s intentions on them.
Of course, he’d already known Charlie was a good guy. He didn’t need his dogs to tell him that.
Scott kissed the top of Chewie’s head, then put him down on the floor. He ran to Charlie immediately, who bent down to pick him up and settled him in his lap, crossing his legs so he was sitting completely on the table top.
It was easy to watch him while the coffee maker worked its magic, happy and laughing and bringing joy and warmth into the house. It was good to have someone else around for a while.
“You’re definitely a dog person,” Scott said, pouring two cups of coffee from the pot.
“I just want to be loved. Dogs love you no matter what.”
“Yeah. They’re great like that.” Scott walked around the kitchen counter and over to the table, holding out a cup of coffee for Charlie.
Charlie took it, holding the cup close to his chest. “Thank you,” he said, smiling warmly up at Scott, his eyes glinting in the darkened room.
Scott hadn’t bothered to turn the light on in the kitchen when he came in. The one in the hall was more than bright enough to see by, and he liked the dark.
He was standing too close to Charlie. He knew that, he knew that now that they were inside, being close enough to share his body heat wasn’t really a polite distance.
He didn’t move. Instead, he stared into Charlie’s eyes, transfixed by the way the light from the hall hit them. Even with only the reflections to go on, they still seemed so warm. So kind.
Scott leaned in. It was only a tiny movement, no more than an inch or so.
Charlie met him halfway, pressing his lips against Scott’s. The still-cold tip of his nose pressed into Scott’s own, the frames of his glasses dug into his cheek as Charlie’s lips parted, sliding over Scott’s with a firm, gentle pressure that made him gasp.
Charlie’s hand came up, cupping his cheek, holding him in place, and Scott stood there like an idiot, letting it all happen. His heart pounded in his chest, so loud that he was sure Charlie could hear it.
The moment stretched out in front of him like an eternity, and for every impulse that told Scott to push Charlie away, there was another one that wanted to lean in, kiss back, beg for more. He was paralyzed with indecision, unsure how to react, panic and arousal warring in his gut.
After just a handful of heartbeats, Charlie backed off.
Scott could see his reflection in Charlie’s glasses, staring open-mouthed, unblinking. Not reacting.
Still not sure how to react.
“I’m straight,” he said, his mouth getting ahead of his brain. It was the only thought he could form right now.
He was straight. He was definitely, totally straight.
Kissing Charlie should have been weirder, right? It was weird, but not nearly as weird as it should have been.
Charlie’s whole expression changed, horror dawning over his face.
Cold regret settled in Scott’s stomach, wiping away all other feelings. He’d screwed up.
He didn’t know exactly how, why, or what he’d screwed up yet, but he could see a path not taken closing off in front of him. This felt like a mistake.
“I’m so sorry,” Charlie said, easing himself off the table, his chest brushing against Scott’s as he did so. He put Chewie on the floor and his coffee up on the counter, the latter making a dullthunkas he set it down, a drop of coffee splashing out over the side.
“I have to go,” he added, straightening his sweater and turning away from Scott.
Scott, who was still standing there, useless. Still paralyzed.
