try to come up with the best way to say this. There isn’t one. “I had sex with Sam. Last night.”
Charlie’s brows disappear beneath the sharp edge of her bangs. “I know I heard that wrong because there is no way you, of all people”—she leans in to whisper-hiss—“would sleep with a married man.”
“Apparently he’s not. I mean, he was but they’ve been divorced for about three years. The girls I heard him mention are hers, but with her new husband. Twins.”
Knocking back the rest of her drink, she eyes me shrewdly before reaching for my hand and pulling me toward the door. “Follow me, young lady.”
Outside, we head down one of the trails that lead away from the Community House. The sun is gone entirely now, and the light is soft and diffused, like the world is suddenly wrapped in a blue filter. Charlie pulls her sweater tight around her body against the chill.
“So,” she says. “You and Sam. Hot dates.” She narrows her eyes at me. “Lovers.”
“Not exact—”
Charlie holds up a hand. “Tate Jones, do not lie to me right now, or so help me I will throttle you. You told me you slept with him. With Satan.”
I take a deep breath, knowing that straightforward is best with Charlie. “He was weird yesterday during the love scene, so I confronted him and asked what his deal was.”
The protective glint in her eye is visible even in the fading light. We pass one of the small cabins where smoke rises from the chimney. The little rectangular windows glow against the dark wood. “He was jealous,” I say.
“Huh.”
“Yep.”
“Wow.” She lets this sink in for a few more steps, long enough to reach where the path narrows, running beneath the overstretched branches of two apple trees. Fallen leaves are pressed into the ground beneath our feet, and crickets start to chirp from the fields across from us. “What did you say?”
“I don’t even remember what I said. I was yelling and then he was yelling and then we were at the truck he rented and—”
She stops. “A truck?”
In hindsight, I’m not sure how to explain how it happened. The decision was more sensation than thought, a bubble of longing that expanded in my chest until I couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think of anything but the feeling of his hands on me again.
Charlie looks away, down the trail toward the apple orchard. I don’t need to ask what she’s thinking—it’s written all over her face.
Turning back, she searches my expression. Her cherry-red mouth—usually open in laughter or a cutting remark—is pulled into a firm line, her eyes tight with worry. “I just want you to be happy.” Her features soften. “This makes me worry.”
“I know.” I take a breath, attempting to form words around the feeling that’s been building inside my chest. “Despite everything that’s happened, whatever was there . . . it hasn’t changed. It was like being back in that garden, being eighteen again.”
“You know I’m always on your side. If you think this is a good idea and will make you happy . . . I’ll work on it.” She shakes her head. “I can’t believe you had sex in a parking lot.”
Footsteps sound on the trail and we glance over as Dad comes into view, hands tucked in the pockets of his jacket.
“Hey, kiddo,” he says, leaning to place a kiss against my forehead. “You two headed into the party?”
With a thumb over her shoulder, Charlie motions toward the muffled sound of Top 40 behind us. “As a matter of fact, I was just heading in. Need to find Trey and make a game plan for when we get home.” She turns to me. “Tater, we’re not done talking about that thing.”
Dad frowns. “ ‘Thing?’ ”
“Nothing—” I say, just as Charlie says, “A truck. Tate’s thinking about buying a truck. Took it out for a test drive last night and everything. Said the stick shift stuck a little but the ride was goo—”
“Right,” I cut in. “Thanks a lot, Charlie. Your advice was very helpful. Have fun inside.”
Charlie waves over her shoulder and walks away with a little bounce in her step. I decide to unscrew all her foundation bottles later.
When she’s gone, I turn back to Dad. “Were you going to the party?”
“I was.”
“Okay, well.” I motion for him to lead the way back down the small hill, and fall into step behind him. “Is Marissa coming?”
“She left last night, actually. Couldn’t miss any more class.”