I try and figure it all out

Forty minutes later, I was standing outside her front door, my mind a mess. But luckily, I wasn’t going to get the chance for my thoughts to stew for much longer – within a few seconds of me ringing the bell, the door swung open and Charley appeared.

She smiled, surprised. “Luke?”

She kind of looked like she was about to go somewhere – I could smell her intoxicatingly sweet perfume from a few paces away, and she had a brown leather jacket over her dark floral dress, with twin braids in her hair. She was so obscenely gorgeous it made my heart ache.

I instinctively leaned down to kiss her lightly, as I supposed was normal for us now. But afterwards, all of a sudden, I realized that this had been the first time I’d initiated it outside of sex. I pulled away quickly, struck with the irrational fear that she’d recoil in disgust or something.

But she just peered up at me, looking a little bemused. “You okay?”

“Yeah … sorry for dropping by out of the blue. I was just in the area,” I lied.

“Oh. From meeting your mum?”

“Yep.” Now that I was actually here, standing in front of her, I realized it was kind of crazy how I’d just come all the way across London and swooped in unannounced. “I’ll go. I’m sure you’re busy.”

Charley rolled her eyes. “Don’t be ridiculous.” She waved me in, and now feeling a little more relaxed, I followed her over to the dining table. The kettle was already boiling, and after a minute or so she fixed us both cups of Earl Grey.

“How was it?” she asked tentatively. “Seeing her, I mean.”

“Good. Talked about uni, some event she’s doing. Also asked her why her and Dad got divorced.”

“The fuck?” Charley spluttered, **** on her tea. “How the hell did that come up?”

I shrugged. “I dunno. We’d just never talked about it before, and I felt like asking.” I sighed theatrically. “She told me it was all my fault.”

“Luke!” she gasped.

“Just joking,” I laughed. “Well, kind of – she did actually say that. But not in a bad way. She said they just wanted to do what was best for me.”

“Right …” Charley scratched her head awkwardly. “So … how do you feel about it now?”

I smiled. It was cute how she was always trying to make me feel like I could open up to her if I wanted to. “It’s okay, Charley. You don’t have to. I’m all good.”

“You sure?” she breathed out, relieved. “It’s just this topic in particular – as a member of your other family, it feels like I should steer clear of it.”

“Makes sense.”

“Anyway …” she rested her hands on her hips. “What do you wanna do?”

I eyed her getup again. “You sure you don’t have anything else to do today?”

“Nope.” She looked away. “You know what – might as well take the opportunity to watch something, like we talked about.”

She quickly got up and scurried over to the couch before I could react and whipped out her phone. After a few seconds of furious typing, she slid it back in her pocket with a **** air of nonchalance.

“What was that about?” I asked as I sat down beside her, even more suspicious now.

“Nothing,” she replied, clearly lying. Trying to act natural, she turned the TV on and began scrolling through Netflix.

“Charley…”

Dropping the remote, she crossed her arms and turned to me with a glare. “Okay, officer,” she grumbled. “I was going to meet some friends soon, so I told them I can’t make it.”

“You really don’t have to,” I said, feeling bad.

She waved me off. “It’s fine. I see them all the time.”

“You see me all the time too.”

“Well, still not as much as I’d like,” she quipped. “Anyway, why are you always coming at me with the inquisitions? What are you, a law student or something?”

“Nice,” I chuckled.

“Oh!” She paused, attention back on the TV. “They have The Hateful Eight on here! It’s the only Tarantino movie I haven’t watched yet. You down?”

I shrugged. “Um … I haven’t seen much of his stuff. I watched Once Upon a Time in Hollywood and never felt the urge to look into the older films.”

“Luke, you cute little simpleton,” she groaned. “Tarantino is a genius. You really don’t see it? Every line of his dialogue is perfectly crafted; the rhythm, alliteration, metaphors – he’s like a fucking poet. I mean goddamn, the bar scene in Inglorious Basterds, I would have thought as a Brit you of all people would understand that…”

It was clear she was going off into a rambling monologue, so I subconsciously began to tune her out. Instead, my thoughts went back to what I’d been preoccupied with before I got here.

I’d pretty much sidelined all my worries as soon as she’d invited me in. It was that simple. But sitting here, hearing her lecture me about various cinematic techniques or whatever, it struck me that nothing had changed. Every single second I spent with her was just as unconscionably gratifying as always. And similarly, I studied her face as she passionately rambled on, and she was so unbelievably stunning.

I leaned in and kissed her, even now almost in disbelief that this was something I was allowed to do. For a second, she froze in surprise, before melting into it with me. There wasn’t anything sexual about it – just pure affection.

When I pulled back she involuntarily let out a little whimper, and after immediately catching it, she blushed. “You interrupted me,” she mumbled.

“Sorry,” I replied. “I just really wanted to kiss you. Carry on.”

Charley stared back at me, her face still only a few inches away from mine. “I lost my train of thought.”

“My bad.”

We sat there in silence for a moment that felt like it went on forever, as I continued to try and resolve what was happening with us. Is it love? Real love, romantic love? I just couldn’t put my finger on what I was feeling, though every time I tried to deduce it, I arrived at the same question. If this wasn’t love … what the fuck was? It felt to me like it wasn’t humanly possible to care about another person more than I cared about Charley.

“Just do it again,” she said quietly, interrupting my deliberating.

“Do what?”

“Kiss me, dumbass.”

I shot her a slight smile and leaned in again to do as she asked.