my legs up under me. From the corner of my eye, I watched Charlie work the paper, his brow wrinkled in concentration. I could feel myself smile as I stared, it was as though he was in his own world there; unable to escape until the image did.
“Addie?” A hand was shaking my shoulder. “Hey, Addie?”
My eyes peeled opened and I saw Charlie sitting in front of me. Whatever he was drawing must be done now, because the sketchbook was closed and the pencils put away.
“I’m gonna take off.”
I stretched, “Okay.”
He hesitated and looked over his shoulder. “I’ll be across the hall. Make sure you lock the door and don’t go nowhere.”
I closed my eyes and think I might have nodded a bit. Truthfully though, I was only concerned with the potential of going back to sleep. “Yeah, got it.”
I felt him smile through my closed eyelids and saw the lamp go dim. When everything went dark, a blanket was placed over my shoulders and I snuggled deep into its folds.
Chapter 7
Something was tapping on my head. Naturally I tried to swat at it—a fly perhaps. But it continued to come back, performing a sort of rap-tap-tapping on my forehead.
I turned over in the bed and tried to pull the worn quilt over my head, but whatever it was found me again and continued to dance on my flesh.
Tap. Tap. Tap.
I heard myself groan, and now tried using both of my hands to swat away the tapping, but it was relentless.
Then Charlie began to laugh.
I opened my eyes and saw him there, only one leg slung on the bed while still sitting next to me, and naturally his sketchbook and pencil in hand. I now understood the culprit of the tapping was a pencil—I lunged for it in an effort to destroy it. However, with my lack of balance, I misjudged my target and nearly toppled over the entire bed—luckily, though, Charlie caught me. He seemed different today. There was no longer that resistance to touch me, and needless to say I was considerably surprised to see him be so bold as to be sitting on the bed next to me. I realized immediately that I didn’t mind it in the least. But more than that, I was happy to see him in such high spirits.
“That is a very rude way to wake someone up!” I had to inhale sharply to keep from laughing.
He released my arms and pushed me back. “I had to,” he laughed. “Your snorin’ was ruining my thinkin’.”
I stopped struggling against him, “I do not snore!”
Charlie just laughed harder, “Yeah, yeah, you do.”
“Take that back!” I kicked him with my foot.
He went back to his sketch. “Nope.”
“You big jerk!”
I threw myself against him with the hope that maybe I could upset his drawing, but I managed to unbalance him enough that his leg slipped against the blanket and he went tumbling to the floor. Unfortunately, as I went to survey the hilarity he pulled me along with him, forcing us both to land in a crumpled heap on the floor.
With him beneath me, I could smell the dull remains of aftershave, soap, and the sea. I inhaled deeply. I could feel his heart pounding beneath me, sticks at the center of a drum. I could imagine the blood pumping in his body to every essential organ and limb, keeping him steady and sure. In that moment, my senses betrayed me with how attractive I found him. I wanted to kiss him so very much. I scolded myself—a psychologically healthy person shouldn’t have been thinking that way. I still should have hated him, and because I didn’t, I sincerely disliked myself.
Before I could embarrass myself further, I rolled away from him, instantly missing the feeling of his body against mine. For a moment more he lay there, swallowing hard before pushing himself back up again in a single motion.
An idea occurred to me as I glanced back and forth between Charlie and the door.
“Hey.” I looked at the door again. “Wasn’t the door locked?”
He flopped back down on the bed. “It was.”
I rested my hand on my hip. “Then how exactly did you get in here?”
He looked at me as though the answer was obvious. “Picked it.”
Being skeptical, I walked over to the door and examined it closely. The keyhole didn’t appear to be damaged in any way. Even when I turned the knob over, the lock didn’t turn with it, suggesting that it hadn’t been tampered