Play It Again, Charlie (6 page)

Charlie stared at the cashier, who had obviously heard that last part. Charlie scowled at him.

“Katia, I'm at the checkout.”

“I'm going, I'm going! You're so bossy!” she exclaimed, and Charlie swallowed, reminding himself that Katia was the baby and she got carried away sometimes. “I'll get Missy to watch Alicia, even if Alicia does like her Tio Lito better.” It was just a hint of guilt this time, but it was there. “I'll call you later, Lito.” Her voice softened, but he could still hear the worry she was pretending not to feel. “Get some sleep.” She made a kissing sound, and Charlie closed his phone before she could call him back, then turned to the smirking cashier.

“Paper,” he said when his few items were rung up, before the kid could say a word about anything else. He had to get home, and soon, so he could sit down and put the last twenty-four hours behind him.

Though it might have been tempting fate, Charlie was sure there was no way his day could get any more exhausting short of his new tenant turning the complex into a crime scene. It was just possible. The kid had been surprised to learn his friend was high but not surprised to see the drugs on him, and that said a lot.

As tired as Charlie was, he was also too awake, like he might have to find something to occupy his mind tonight until he finally fell asleep, something other than the exam booklets he should start grading— that he'd left in the backseat of his car.

The realization made him stop with his key chain in his hand, his arms around the bag of groceries that was only getting heavier the longer he stood there. All this walking might have been considered his exercise for the day, but it wasn't going to do anything to loosen up locked muscles and joints.

It had been over a week since his last workout. Tomorrow he'd use the school's facilities and come home so exhausted that he'd fall asleep almost immediately and not have to worry about what anyone else might be up to.

Tonight he'd go get those exams, possibly have a beer, and hope that it relaxed him enough finally get some rest.

“Hel-lo, gorgeous.”

The whispered greeting at his back made him twist around with his hand at his side before he felt the grocery bag slipping and moved quickly to hold it in place.

Will was grinning, but his attention went from Charlie's hands to his face and then, strangely, to his hair, while Charlie couldn't do much more than steady the bag and notice that Will had changed his hairstyle. The front part swept to the side; the back softly fanned out.

“You really, um, were a cop once,” Will observed with pleasure before Charlie could get out a single word about not sneaking up on people. He avoided the question in the green eyes and glanced around instead, certain he had seen no sign of Will anywhere in the courtyard when he'd walked in.

The crushed flowers were in his line of sight, however, a mess that only made him tense up even more and try to focus on anything other than the events of the night before. Not that it was at all difficult to bring his eyes to the man in front of him.

Will was in a T-shirt with some sort of bedazzled skull on it, the fit tight enough to show off just how much he worked out. Charlie felt his gaze skipping up past that leather cuff around his wrist, over the exposed golden skin of his arms, the black cotton, to the way Will's throat moved when he swallowed.

He brought his eyes up a moment too late and stood there for a moment, trying to think of something to say that wasn't about how beautiful Will was. The kid had to know already, and pointing it out in the clumsy way that Charlie was sure he would say it would only draw attention to just how beautiful Charlie wasn't.

It had been made clear over the years that he was too much trouble to demand much effort from anyone else, even at his best. He was a pushing-forty community college professor with an obvious limp and a family that took up most of his attention. His hair was too long and had too much gray in it, and the only new clothes he owned were the ties his sisters bought him every Christmas.

“Your friend get home?” He went with ignoring the last two statements out of the kid's tempting mouth and turned his back on him while he separated his door key from the rest of his key chain.

“Of course. Here, let me help.”

Charlie turned back when Will pressed closer and did
not
flush when he realized he was hugging his groceries to his chest. He fixed Will with a glare when the action put that stupid grin back on the kid's face.

“I can't imagine what kind of help you could offer that isn't chemical in nature,” he said, because in his hours of staring at his ceiling last night he'd also realized that Will had known
exactly
what had been in those plastic baggies.

Will lifted his chin to look Charlie in the eye, his brows coming together for a frown before he flicked his gaze away. He rolled his shoulders in a shrug as he looked back, his hands out in a similarly helpless gesture, as though he had no choice in the matter.

For half a second Will's expression was sharp, and then he was smiling again.

“I could hold your bag while you get your key,” he offered, sighing in a way that had to be exaggeration. Will stared at Charlie and spoke with perfect seriousness. “That is, if you trust me not to steal your eggs and sell them for drug money.”

It was just ludicrous enough to make Charlie blink.

“I didn't buy eggs,” he said back, then he cleared his throat as he thrust the bag of groceries at Will and looked at his keys.

“No eggs,” Will remarked from behind him as Charlie flipped through shed and apartment master keys, his car, his office, and found his door key at last. Will was apparently looking through his groceries with the same concentration. “Just cans, some bread, lactose-free milk, pasta, and... cat food?”

Charlie unlocked the door and half turned. He was holding the door open with one hand and could feel himself staring when Will ducked under his arm and walked inside.

For a few moments he stood there, not exactly sure when he had last had anyone over the age of six in his kitchen, damn sure he'd never had anyone like Will in it. Will was all smooth motion in front of the brown-and-white wood cabinets, trailing hands over the toaster and microwave like he'd never seen appliances before.

The only other colors in Charlie's small, simple kitchen were the pictures of his niece and nephew on the fridge and the blue dishtowels.

“Big bad Sergeant Howard has a kitty?” Will asked as he set the bag down on the counter, and Charlie managed to finally get himself moving again, hesitating before he closed the door.

“What are you doing?” The question slipped out as Will's hand disappeared into the paper bag. It slowly reappeared, holding the dry food that Charlie mixed in with Sam's wet food. At his question, Will was caught looking like a kid sneaking a cookie, guilty and adorable, and Charlie swallowed his next words telling Will to get out.

“So you've helped me,” he said instead, leaving the obvious finish unspoken. Will quickly directed his look at the ingredients list on the bag, then set it down and made himself busy glancing at the stove. He'd probably never seen one of those, either. And he was giving no sign that he understood what Charlie was telling him. “So thanks and"— Will looked up and Charlie changed what he'd been about to say—"I'll see you later.”

Will's eyelashes swept down in something that wasn't quite flirtatious, and when they came up, his eyes were bright with hurt. That the look was clearly well practiced didn't make it any less effective. Charlie stayed silent, and Will's expression shifted to faint shock at being kicked out that could have been real. Charlie really doubted anybody else would kick Will out of their homes.

Of course, for Will to leave, Charlie would have to move from the door, and he didn't seem to be moving. His kitchen was small— to get away he would have to slide past Will, and as he considered just how much of him would come into contact with the other man, he glanced up and saw Will doing the same.

It was the smile that spurred him forward. Charlie grabbed the bag and faced the stove, taking out his groceries one at a time. He turned to the fridge and put away the milk. The fridge seemed abnormally bright, and he remembered the lights and hit the wall switch before he looked back.

Will's gaze wasn't on him. He was at the edge of the counter, looking over the dining area, also known as the small table with two chairs, and the living room.

“Are those for your leg?” He was only aware that he'd gone silent when Will spoke. Will waved a hand at the top of the refrigerator, and Charlie didn't correct his mistake, focused on his pill bottles, reached out to hide the prescription before making himself stop.

“I'm not going to steal them either, silly bear,” Will chided him, glancing over. The sideways look through his lashes seemed familiar somehow, like something from an old movie poster. Charlie shut his slightly slack mouth and narrowed his eyes, pretending not to see the guileless expression Will was no doubt faking for him now. “If I were, I wouldn't have mentioned them, would I?”

A neatly logical trap that increased Charlie's confusion, since Will could still be lying by drawing attention to the prescription bottle, except that that would have been quite the double bluff and made Will into some sort of criminal mastermind, and even if he had wanted to, Charlie couldn't manage to be that paranoid.

He did give Will another careful look, but Will had his intelligence tucked away again, was wringing his hands like a damsel in distress. “What you must think of me.” He lowered his voice and let it tremble, momentarily helpless.

He knew he was staring, but his mind was spinning with a hundred questions, wondering if Will was like this with everyone and why, wondering if Will meant for him to be this curious and what it meant that he was.

That last thought was what made him keep himself still, close to biting his tongue to keep from asking the biggest and most obvious question, not sure he wasn't imagining it all anyway. But the kitchen was warm with Will at the edge of his vision, somehow filling it.

“What are you doing here?” He jerked his gaze down to the cans, turning to open his cabinets. He just heard the whisper of motion over the sound of his own nervous breathing and looked to see that Will had entered his living room. If he'd answered, Charlie hadn't heard it.

He froze again, watching Will take in the other room. Charlie's apartment was only a single bedroom, and the living room was meant to serve as a central space. He used it as an office, mostly, so while there was an entertainment center against one wall, there was a desk against the short wall with the kitchen on the opposite side.

He supposed his desk might be the only personal touch in the room, if he didn't count his books or the pillows on the overstuffed couch. Not that those had been his choice, though they at least matched the upholstery.

Will took few steps, picked up one of the pillows Ann had made, and stared at the needlepoint cat on the front of it. It matched the rest of the pillows spread out on the couch and on the floor next to it. They were kitschy and tacky and, more than that, itchy.

“Into cats, huh?” Will said finally, placing the pillow back where he'd found it, and Charlie flinched; the bland tone said a lot when Will was normally so exuberant. He shut his mouth before he could ask if Will really thought he seemed like that much of a loser.

It wasn't like he could tell Ann they were ugly. She'd cry, and Charlie did not make his sisters cry.

“No.” He left it at that and stacked a few more cans without taking his eyes off his uninvited visitor. Will glanced back at him.

“Gift from an admirer?” His question was soft, but before Charlie could think of what to say to that, Will moved on, stopping at the first of the shelves that lined most of the available space on the wall. He ran his hand along the spines and then angled his head up without turning around.

“Have you read all these books?” The disbelief in his tone was surprising, and then irritating. Will might know people who kept books for show, but Charlie wasn't one of them. Not that it was any of his business what Will was like with others.

“Yes.” Charlie stopped fussing with the cans and turned the rest of the way around so that when Will let out a short, surprised laugh, he could see how the motion traveled down his back. Will's jeans weren't skin tight, but they were tight enough. Charlie caught himself staring at his ass, but not quick enough, and looked up to see Will's gaze on him.

“And big on conversation too,” he remarked after a moment, lifting an eyebrow in a way that was more playful than sarcastic, though it was that too. “I knew it. Something about the way you threw me against the wall screamed
intellectual
.”

The second the words left Will's mouth, Charlie was remembering it, how Will's mouth had been just under his, their bodies pressed close against the wall, sharing heat and air. He swallowed, though his throat was tight.

“I didn't— ” The rasp of his voice made him stop, wet his mouth. When he breathed in, even the air was hot, just like it had been then, and he made himself focus on the words and not the way Will wet his lips too. “I did not throw you against the wall.” He hadn't even touched Will, no matter how much his hands had itched to.

There was only the counter behind him; he had nowhere to go. Will hadn't moved.

“I
know
,” Will commented, pushing out his lower lip to make a sad face, as though he'd wanted Charlie to.

Charlie could feel Will's sharp inhale against his chest again, the spark in his eyes when Charlie had had him between his arms, the way he'd had to focus to speak. His pulse rushed in his ears.

“I didn't... hurt you, did I?” he asked the counter, picking up the bag of pasta and shoving it somewhere. He looked back over, frowning harder when he found Will staring at him. “Not like... your friend.”

“No, Charlie.” His name was different in the kid's smooth voice, like something caught in honey, and then Will gave a short, happy sort of sigh that was honestly only more confusing. “No, you didn't.” Will blinked and then quickly turned on his heel, moving to another bookshelf. “Anyway, I doubt he would have hurt me. I mean, he's a darling the rest of the time.”