“I’m not the one who named my dog Chewie,” Charlie said, shifting a little closer to Scott’s side and yawning widely.
Scott finally found the Wookiepedia page he wanted and skimmed the first few paragraphs. “Okay, so… you’re right, it stands for twin ion engine.But, apparently the comparison to bowties came up in the extended universe, so…”
“So we’re both right.”
“Sorry.” Scott grinned. “Bowties inStar Wars.”
“I’m not a hundred percent convinced, but I do like the idea of Harrison Ford in a bowtie. Or anything, really.”
Scott chuckled. He was starting to get a picture of Charlie’s taste in men, between Marcus and a few other guys he’d mentioned.
He wasn’t so stupid that he couldn’t see how he fit into it. Broad-shouldered and a little awkward seemed to be Charlie’s thing.
“Not Oscar Isaac?”
“I’m not saying I’d kick him out of bed.” Charlie hummed thoughtfully. “And Ihaveseen red carpet photos where he looks great all dressed up, but I actually like him better when he’s sweaty and covered in engine grease.”
“That’s gross,” Scott said. “I mean not… not being attracted to him in the first place, but engine grease is gross.”
“In the fantasy world in my head, it smells faintly of rosewater,” Charlie explained. “I know it’s gross in real life, but I’m never going to screw a resistance fighter pilot in real life.”
“I guess.” Scott frowned to himself, unsure about the strange, uncomfortable feeling in the pit of his stomach. It didn’t bother him that Charlie was attracted to men in general, but apparently it bothered him when he talked about specific men.
Maybe that was just something he needed to get past. Maybe it was just because he wasn’t used to it.
“Well, I need to get home,” Lanie said, draining the remainder of her glass of wine. “Big day tomorrow.”
“Your sister’s coming to visit, right?” Charlie asked.
“Yep.” Lanie smiled wryly. “We’ll see how that goes. I might need you to help me bury a body later.”
“I’m good with a shovel,” Scott responded. He assumed it was a joke.
“I like him, you can keep him,” Lanie said, standing and shrugging her coat over her shoulders. “Wish me luck.”
Scott couldn’t help smiling at that. He liked being accepted by Charlie’s friends. Hopefully, he’d be able to call them his own friends soon enough.
“Good luck, and good night,” Charlie called after Lanie and Amber, raising a hand lazily to wave at them. He felt heavy against Scott’s shoulder, like he would have liked to be in bed hours ago.
Scott could feel himself fading, too. It’d been a long week, both at school and work. Bed was starting to sound awesome.
“Come on,” Scott said, straightening up and swallowing his last few mouthfuls of beer, shuddering at the bitterness of the last few drops. “Time for good boys to be in bed.”
“It’s sweet that you think I’m a good boy,” Charlie said, standing and stretching his arms high over his head so his sweater rode up, revealing a clean white undershirt beneath it.
Charlie really knew how to dress himself. His taste in clothes was a little odd, but they were always clean and neat, always fitted him to within an inch of his body. He clearly looked after himself.
“You’redefinitelynot a bad boy,” Scott said, grabbing his coat. They’d both remembered to bring one this time, so at least the walk home wouldn’t be as cold.
“I dunno.” Charlie turned to lead the way out of the bar. “I’m covered in tattoos. I do own a faux-leather jacket, somewhere. I could get a motorcycle.”
“And you’d still be a sweet librarian under it. You could wear bad boy as a Halloween costume, but you’re a sweetheart all the way from the ends of your hair to the tips of your toes.”
“That’s easily the nicest thing anyone has ever said about me.” Charlie held the door open for Scott, following him through it into the cool air outside. Fall was coming up fast, some of the trees around town already turning yellow and orange.
“Can I walk you home?” Scott asked. “It’s dark, you’re tired, I don’t want you tripping over and spending the night in a ditch.”
“I’m not gonna refuse an escort,” Charlie said.
