Seasons (3 page)

“You are adorable when you ramble,” he blurts out.

“Thanks? I think,” I say quickly moving to unbuckle and get out of his car. The sweet look in his eyes is unnerving me. Why does he make me nervous? No other guy has ever made me nervous before. He gently touches my upper arm, halting me in place before I get out. I look back at him questioningly.

“We should hang out sometime. You know, without the other guy molesting you and the puking part.” He smiles a straight out of a toothpaste ad smile showing all his perfect straight white teeth and his panty-dropping dimples.

“Are you sure? I thought tonight was a blast.” I grimace at the memory. “Well, I’ll see you around school next week.”

“You’re not going to give me your phone number?” he asks seeming wounded

I smile my most mischievous smile. “Maybe eventually. Look, Charlie, I caught my boyfriend, well, ex-boyfriend, with another girl tonight. I appreciate you taking care of me and everything you did for me tonight. I just don’t have any room for anyone new in my life, other than a new friend maybe? If you want my number, you’ll figure out how to earn it.” I lean over and peck his cheek. “Thanks again.” With that, I hop out of his truck and run up to the house just making it by curfew.

I grab the screen door so it doesn’t slam as I come in. I peek out the side window and watch as Charlie backs out of the driveway. His headlights come back on, and a second later, he’s gone. I release a deep sigh before I drift to my room with a head full of confusion. What a night.

*   *   *

Sunday morning, I wake up feeling better than I should. Likely, it’s because I purged all the alcohol I drank from my system the night before. Uggggh. I start to remember the events of the night before. Oh, my God! I puked on Charlie Salazar’s shoes! I roll over covering my head with the sheet and groan. I should probably just end it. This is horrendous. He asked for my number after I puked on him, too. What is wrong with him? I owe him some new shoes, I think as I fall back into the abyss of hangover sleep.

A few hours later, I wake when I feel the end of my bed dip. “Brynn, wake up, honey. It’s almost noon. I’m going into town to go grocery shopping. Do you want to come with me?” Mom asks.

“Noooo,” I groan out.

“Rough night?”

I sit up and shoot a look at her. “Well, I ran into Ian at the party.”

“Isn’t that a good thing?”

“He was there with his girlfriend.” I spit out the word girlfriend as if it’s burning my mouth.

Mom’s mouth drops open. “His girlfriend, you?” she asks.

“No. No, not his girlfriend me.”

“So who does the blue truck belong to then?” she asks. I flinch.

“This really nice guy named Charlie from school. He offered me a ride and before you ask, no, he wasn’t drinking. And no, he doesn’t do drugs.”

“Hmm…You know you could have called me.”

“I know, Mom, but I didn’t want to wake you. Charlie was safe. Promise.”

“Are you okay with the whole Ian thing?” Mom asks, looking me in the eye to gage the truth behind my response.

I think about it for a moment and then respond, “Oddly, I’m okay. I feel kind of relieved.” I shrug.

“Now you don’t have to take out the trash?” she asks with a smile.

“What? Have you been talking to Mel? Geez!” I lie back down and snuggle into my pillows flinging a purple sham at Mom as I do.

“Don’t stay in bed all day,” she says as she tosses the pillow back at me.

I groan and reach over to grab the remote control off my nightstand. I spend most of Sunday watching a bad Lifetime Movie marathon. Around dusk, Mom joins me in bed with cartons of Chinese food for dinner. We watch some movie about a man who kills his wife and covers it up while we eat orange chicken with chopsticks in bed. And this makes for a perfect lazy Sunday.

*   *   *

Monday, I wake up early to finish the paper I had only made it halfway through prior to the weekend. After I hit print, I shower, get dressed, and then head downstairs for a bagel on the go. I stuff my work into a folder and into my bag before calling out a goodbye to Mom as I rush out of the house.

Melanie is outside waiting, and I slip into the passenger seat. “Morning, bitch, hit it!”

“Well, hello to you, too,” Mel says with annoyance. I ignore her and enjoy the warm sun on my face as we drive to school.

“Hello? Are you going to tell me what happened with Charlie on Saturday night?” Mel breaks me from my respite.

“Nothing to tell. He drove me home.” I don’t look at her.

“Brynn Rose Carsten, don’t lie to me! Girl, have you forgotten I can read you better than the latest issue of Cosmo? Out with it!” she scolds.

I think for a moment before I speak, but decide to spill. It’s better she hears it from me than through whispers at school. “Okay, so you know I was a little tipsy from playing Battle Shots.”

“Understatement of the year, but go on.” She smirks.

“Yeah, yeah, so anyway, I went outside to get some air with Tom?”

“Tim,” she interrupts.

“Whatever, I went out for air with Tim. We were sitting on a swing outside. I must have passed out. The next thing I know, Charlie is yelling and Tim goes flying through the air hitting the railing of the deck. Charlie must have come out as Tim was trying to take my shirt off, I guess.” I shrug and look at Mel, who looks like she’ll need help picking her mouth up off the floor. “Anyway, it was totally embarrassing and it gets worse. Charlie took me home, and I totally puked on the side of his truck…and maybe a little on his shoes.”

“You what?” She gasps.

“I know! It was awful, but he was so nice about it. And get this! He asked for my number when he dropped me off! I puked on his freaking shoes! Why would he want my number?”

“This is classic. You seriously threw up on his shoes?” Mel is laughing hysterically now.

“Gah, it was so embarrassing. I wanted to die.”

“So, did you give him your number?” Mel questions.

“Nope. I told him about the Ian thing and that it was too soon. Then I told him if he really wanted my number he’d find a way to earn it.”

“Back the truck up. Are you nuts? Ian, Shmian! Charlie is gorgeous. He saved you from sleazy Tim and drove you home. You puked on his shoes—on his freaking shoes! And he still wanted your number! You should have given it to him. You stupid, stupid wench!” She’s screaming by the time she finishes her rant.

“I don’t want to just jump to a new guy like that. I know Ian wasn’t anything really serious, but still. I told him we could be friends.”

“Well, I hope while you are being his
friend,
someone else doesn’t snatch his fine ass up!” She sneers.

I turn up the song on the radio letting Mel know that I’m done discussing it for the moment.

*    *    *

I truck through the halls to get to my locker and to class. I come out of second period Spanish, which is just down the hall from my locker. I turn right coming out the door and impact with a wall of muscle. “Gosh, I’m sorry. I wasn’t paying any attention,” I start to apologize. I’m stunned speechless when I look up into two dark eyes that suck words and all the breath right out of me. “Oh, hey, Charlie,” I almost whisper.

“Looks like we’re even.” He smirks.

“Huh?” is all I can manage as I look at him confused.

“I smacked you with a Frisbee in the park. You just smacked me with, well, your whole body. We’re even now,” he says. He gives me a panty-dropping smile showing his dimples and a teeny, tiny birthmark next to one that I had never been close enough to really notice before.

“Yeah…I’d say I still owe you big for the creep at the party and showing you my dinner on the way home.” I cringe as I remember the events of the weekend. As the recollection of that shit show rolls through my head, I feel a sudden urge to get away from him out of embarrassment.

“I was only kidding. I told you already, don’t worry about the party. We’ve all been there,” he says, looking at me with kind eyes. He has the kindest eyes I have ever seen. How can a guy this attractive also be so genuinely nice? “So, you have Señor Diaz for Spanish? I had him last year for Advanced 4. He’s pretty hardcore,” he states. “If you ever need any help, I’d be happy to help you study.”

“Yeah, the final is going to be tough. Wait, you had Advanced 4 last year? As a junior?” I ask.

“Spanish is my first language. My parents are from Ecuador.”

“But you’re white,” I blurt out and then blush from the sheer stupidity that just fell out of my mouth.

Charlie laughs. “We come in all shades.”

“Oh, yeah, of course. I knew that. I just wouldn’t have thought,” I trail off. “Well, I should get to class,” I say as I try to recover.

“I’ll walk you,” he states rather than asks. I think he can sense my embarrassment and desire to flee. He looks me in the eye, as if he’s asking permission, and he gently takes my books from my arms. I stare at him like a doe caught in headlights. Charlie brushes my arms with his fingertips as he takes the books out of my grasp, which warms me all over. He turns with my books in his arms and starts down the hall. I follow in tow until we get close to my locker.
“I have to switch my book really quick,” I say. He stops at my locker. He knows which locker is mine, I think to myself. I switch out my book for the next class, and he takes the new one from me. We walk in comfortable silence, not looking at each other, to my third period class. At the door, he turns to me, gives me my book, and smiles his amazing smile. “Have a good class.”

“Thanks for carrying my books. See you later?” I smile a shy smile back.

“Definitely.” He turns and I’m left standing there wondering what in the world just happened. Something feels peculiar. Something has shifted.
What was that?

I go through the rest of the day in this haze of confusion. Why does Charlie affect me like this? He barely brushed me with a touch of his fingertips, and I felt like he touched inside me somewhere. It warmed my entire body. I have never felt anything like that before, not even when making out with guys I’d dated before. He carried my books like some old school gentleman. What is he going to do next, pin me? Ask me to go steady or wear his letterman’s jacket? I’m thinking too hard about this. We are friends, just friends.
Get a freaking grip, Brynn.

“Hello. Come back to Earth, B,” Mel whines next to me as we drive home.

“Sorry. I’m just stressing over finals coming up,” I lie.

“Yeah, right, Miss Straight A’s,” Mel scoffs. “Like you even need to stress.”

“Diaz is a hard ass and Spanish doesn’t come easily for me,” I rebuff her.

“I’m sure you’ll be fine,” she reassures me. “Chick, what is really going on in that head?”

“How do you always know when I’m keeping something from you?”

“Brynn, we have been friends since the fourth grade. I just know.” She shrugs. She’s right. We have been best friends since her dad retired from the military and her family settled in Heatherwood Harbor. It goes both ways—we can have an entire conversation with just a look.

“I saw Charlie today. I just about ran him over in the hallway, and then he carried my books to class.”

“That is the cutest thing I have ever heard. He carried your books. What is this, 1960? I’m not sure if I’m going to puke from jealousy or if the cuteness factor of that is just making me sick.”

“I know, but we’re just going to be friends. He was just being nice. Okay? Don’t make a big deal out of it, capiché?” I ask sternly.

“Got it! But just for the record, and then I’ll leave it be, you should totally hump that hot boy’s brains right out of his skull! Okay, I feel better. I’ll drop it now,” she says with a shit-eating grin before turning up the song on the radio and belting out lyrics to ‘The Thong Song.’

I fall into a fit of giggles and cannot help but join my crazy best friend in singing along.

*   *   *

The rest of the week went as normal, wake up, run, shower, school, study, repeat. Only it wasn’t normal, really. I had this nagging voice shadowing me everywhere saying “Charlie, Chaaaarlie.” I couldn’t stop thinking about him. I had to figure out a way to shut that bitch up and get him out of my head! I mean, honestly, I’m not even sure I like how I feel when he’s around. I do and say stupid things, and it’s flat out embarrassing. Speak of the devil,
I think to myself when I look up and see
HIM
walking down the hall toward my locker Thursday afternoon.

“Hey.” He nods and drops one of his brilliant smiles on me like a bomb.

“Hey.” I smile back

“Are you ready for finals?”

“I think so. I’ll be studying all weekend. It must be nice not to have to take them.”

“Yeah, graduation is next Saturday, and no finals are a pretty sweet end of the year senior perk.” He looks down in thought and looks back up into my eyes freezing me in place. “I could help you study for your finals this weekend if you want?”