“Didn’t you live together for years?”
I hum absentmindedly. I don’t want what’s inside the boxes. I feel like leaving Anthony behind was a key part of starting over. Things have never been important to me—maybe that’s the curse of being unwanted at a young age. I lift my head to look up at Charlie, finding only kindness and warmth in his gaze. He’s steady and loving, and I bask in the glow of his obvious adoration.
“Help me put these into the garage?”
“Sure.”
We each grab a box and load them onto one of the back racks in my pop’s garage. It smells like engine grease and home, the scent that’ll always remind me of summer dayshelping Pop fix up a new beat-up car. I stare at the boxes for a moment and shake my head.
I grab Charlie’s hand and tug him back outside, closing the garage door behind us with the code at the pad. We stare at each other under the warm autumn sun, his thumb sweeping across my knuckles. I want to say so much, yet nothing at the same time.
“What if I dye my hair silver?” I ask softly, remembering all the times Anthony controlled every single one of my actions, how he made me feel less than just for being me. How when I did something he didn’t like, he’d punish me by moving shit around in the bathroom. Other times he’d whine about having sex until I gave in because he liked the power of me not wanting to, but feeling like I had to do it to keep him happy.
Charlie tugs me toward the truck and swings our hands together. He’s quiet for so long that I wonder if he didn’t hear me. But I can tell by the considering look on his face that he’s just thinking his words over carefully.
We climb into his truck, Cupcake patiently sitting in the back with the windows down. “I like you. No hair, long hair, blue hair, black hair, I don’t care. It’s your body. Every iteration of you will be attractive to me. Okay?”
“Okay,” I say softly, feeling the odd urge to cry.
We return to Charlie’s house, feed Cupcake dinner, then get ready for our date. I take a long shower in the guest room so I smell amazing, instead of like a coffee shop and posthurricane cleanup. Charlie does the same. I apply extra cologne and stand in front of the mirror once I’m dressed. I’m wearing a violet cardigan that’s fuzzy but will keep me warm at night, as well as a tight black T-shirt, dark blue jeans, and a trusty pair of Converse that have seen better days but are still perfect to me.
When I open the guest room door, I find Charlie opening his door too, both of us staring at each other in the orange-colored late evening light. He’s wearing dark blue jeans that perfectly hug his hips and thighs and a black-and-white flannel shirt. Surely, we shouldn’t go together, but we do, like some sort of matched set. Charlie’s grin is soft, stirring up those giant fucking butterflies in my belly that could no doubt lift me off into space if I let them.
“You look handsome,” Charlie says roughly, gaze caught on my lips.
“I like your flannel,” I say back, a squeak in my voice.
Going slow has never seemed so tortuous. Charlie takes my hand in his, entwining our fingers gently, and tugs me toward the front of the house. He spends a moment making sure Cupcake is comfortable, all tucked into her dog bed in front of the fireplace. Cupcake looks at me expectantly, so I dip down to kiss her wet nose. She snorts in my face, which only makes me laugh, and in turn makes Charlie’s grin turn soppy and happy.
Charlie opens the truck door for me, and I hop in with a grin. “Let’s take the truck, but I’ll play navigator.”
“Hmmm, okay. Suspicious.”
I point at myself. “Me? Suspicious? Never.”
Charlie just laughs. I’ve laughed more the past few weeks than I have in years. I think that’s more healing than anything else here at home. I give Charlie directions, easily navigating him toward the marina. Thankfully the hurricane wasn’t much of anything, so the marina is open, and the water is gentler now that the hurricane has moved away and inland.
Charlie raises one eyebrow as he parks. “Boats?”
“Better than that, you’ll see.”
We hop out of the truck at the same time. The air is cooland my hand warms right up as Charlie tangles our fingers together. I swing our hands back and forth a few times, trying my best not to grin at him like a fool. The marina is mostly empty, because not many people are biting to go out on the water on a Wednesday evening after a hurricane passed through. Seagulls caw overhead as we walk silently toward the catamaran I know has one of my favorite people on it.
“Yooooooo!” Scott calls out with arms wide open. “She’s all yours tonight. Well, except for me, because I’m the captain, but yeah. I won’t be watching. I also won’t ask about football.” Scott mimes zipping his lips and then throwing the key away. “Erica gave me a stern talking-to, don’t worry.”
Charlie turns a slightly frightened gaze toward me.
“If he bothers us, I’ll kill him,” I say loudly so that Scott can hear, which only makes him chuckle and dip behind the wheel.
We climb aboard, me first, with Charlie’s hand in mine as he follows me on board. Just like I’d asked, there’s a basket of food on the netting at the front of the catamaran, two blankets, and what looks like sparkling grape juice. I look back at Scott, give him a thumbs-up, then smile when he disappears from view so we can’t be seen.
“Tucker,” Charlie says softly as he stares down at me with so much hope in his gaze that my chest aches a little. “This is really sweet. Thank you.”
“I’ve never taken someone on a date before. I’m glad my first time is with you.”
Charlie lifts his hand to my face, swiping his thumb across my lips before dipping down to kiss me gently. Butterfly kisses will never get old. When he pulls away, I grin up at him in sheer happiness. We settle in on the netting, tossing theblankets over our respective laps. Scott undocks the boat and lets us out of the marina with his expert skill.
“In high school Scott got us lost on the coast in this thing,” I say as I open the basket.
