“This relationship, huh? And how would you define our relationship?”
“Budding,” she says. “Hopefully.”
“Oh, I think we’re definitely budding.” The relief of confession gives way to a different kind of tension. I picture Charlie in my apartment, wrapped in nothing but my stolen shirt, and suddenly the miles between us feel like a physical ache. My fingers twitch with the memory of her skin.
“So, tell me, are you in a Tweety shirt, or in that sexy black lingerie?”
“You know the answer to that, Taio.”
“Tweety shirt. Got it.”
“Actually, Elmer Fudd tonight.”
“For shame, Charlie. Wearing another man while I’m over here missing you? Bad girl.”
“I’ll make it up to you when you come back. I’m not letting you out of my sight for at least a week. Just so you know. You’re going to be so sick of me.”
“Impossible.”
“We’ll see.” She chuckles.
“How about you make it up to me right now?”
The question catches her off guard. “What? How?”
“Are you alone?” My voice drops, taking on a playful edge.
“Yes,” she answers hesitantly.
“Where are you?”
“In the blanket fort,” she admits. “I live here now. I have a forwarding address if you’re interested.”
“Cute,” I say.
“I’m going to be sad when housekeeping rips it down. We head to Tampa tomorrow night.”
“I’ll build you a fort everywhere we go. I promise.”
Silence.
“Charlie, you still there?”
“Yeah, I’m here. I’m just swooning.”
I laugh lightly. “Well, take your time, I’ll be here.”
“Taio?”
“Yeah?”
“I really like you.” Her voice has gone soft, almost fragile. “In a way I feel like I’m not in control of. You’ve been in love before. Does it feel overwhelming all the time?”
“Overwhelming?”
“We haven’t known each other long. Why can’t I remember a time when I wasn’t thinking about you?”
“What do you think about?”
