“Couldn’t agree with you more,” he said. And then added after a beat, “So what’s with these puffy eyes of yours?”
I looked out the window again. “Guess the cucumber slices didn’t work,” I mumbled.
“You look like you’ve been swimming with your eyes open in a chlorinated pool. What’s he done now?” he asked.
I sputtered a bit, not sure how to get the words out quickly enough that I wouldn’t start to cry again. “He, umm.” I cleared my throat. “He says I’m distracting him and wants to take a break.” I looked over to Charlie, who was watching the road, his jaw tight. “He needs more space. From me. So he can study and be important one day.”
“He broke up with you?” The words were quiet, but there was so much anger behind them.
“I don’t know,” I said, my voice cracking. “I don’t think that’s what it was, but he only wants to talk to me once a week. And when I called last night, there were people in his room, and this girl he’s been hanging out with. He was drunk.” A muscle twitched in Charlie’s jaw.
“Let’s not talk about it,” I whispered, even though we had both been silent for seconds. Then I added with more certainty, “I want to have fun tonight. There’s one week left of summer and one of the best horror movies of all time ahead of us.”
Charlie looked over at me with a pained expression.
“Please?” I asked.
He looked back out the windshield. “I can do fun.”
The movie was Rosemary’s Baby, one of my favorites from the sixties, and not exactly the cheesy slasher film Charlie had expected. As the credits rolled, he stared at the screen, mouth hanging open.
“That was some messed-up shit,” he murmured and turned slowly to me. “You like this stuff?”
“I looove it,” I cooed. We had gone through a bag of salt-and-vinegar chips, a bunch of gummy worms and licorice and two slushies from the concession stand. I was amped from the sugar. It was the most fun I’d had all summer, which was shocking since I’d spent most of the day in the fetal position.
“You’re one disturbing girl, Pers,” he said, shaking his head.
“And that’s saying something coming from you.” I grinned, and when he grinned back, my eyes dropped to his dimples before noticing that his were on my mouth. I cleared my throat, and he quickly looked at the clock on the dash.
“We better get you back,” he said, starting the truck.
We spent the drive home talking, first about his economics program at Western and the rich kids he was sharing a house with in the fall, and then about how I felt like everyone was moving on to bigger and better things while I stayed in Toronto, following the path my parents laid for me. He didn’t try to make me feel better or tell me I was overreacting. He just listened. There weren’t more than a few seconds of dead air the entire hour drive back. We were cracking up over a story about his first school dance when he pulled up to the cottage. His dad had taught him the “proper” way to dance beforehand, which ended up with Charlie two-stepping a thoroughly freaked-out Meredith Shanahan across the gymnasium floor.
“You wanna come in?” I asked, still laughing. “I think there are a few of Dad’s beers in the fridge.”
“Sure,” Charlie said, cutting the engine and walking me to the door. “If you play your cards right, I might ask you to dance.”
“I only tango,” I said over my shoulder as I turned the key in the lock.
“I knew it would never work between us,” he said in my ear, scattering goose bumps down my arm.
We kicked off our shoes and Charlie took in the small, open space. “I haven’t been in here in ages,” he said. “I like that your parents have kept it as a real cottage. Well, other than that,” he said, pointing to the espresso machine that took up way too much of the kitchen counter. I walked to the other side of the room and flicked on the floodlight that shone up into the towering red pines.
“It’s my favorite place in the world,” I said, watching the swaying boughs for a moment. When I turned around, Charlie was studying me with a strange expression on his face.
“I should probably get home,” he said hoarsely, pointing over his shoulder.
I tilted my head. “You literally just got here.” I moved by him to open the fridge. “And I promised you a beer.” I passed him a bottle.
He scratched the back of his neck. “I’m not really in the habit of drinking alone.” I rolled my eyes and pulled the sleeve of my sweatshirt over my hand so I could twist off the cap. I took a long drink, then handed him the bottle.