Play It Again, Charlie (57 page)

“I know he's welcome.” He just wasn't sure that Will would
want
to be there. Will had said he wanted to meet her, but he had also been teasing Charlie at the time. The way he teased with all his questions. Will didn't pretend he wasn't fascinated whenever Charlie took a call from his sisters when he was around. He'd prop his head on his hands and listen without making a sound until the call was over, and then Charlie would have to play off whatever the conversation had been about and bring the topic back to Will.

He now knew exactly how Will liked his pizza, and that Will's sister had a dog, and that Will liked to go to up into the hills at night sometimes and admire the view of the bay. He'd admitted to Will that his sisters called him for advice on what to do about just about everything, from Daniel's career problems to Katia's bad taste in men. He didn't mention that, according to his grandmother, it was something Katia and Charlie had in common, or that his sisters called him a lot. Though Will had been around him enough now to witness it, and he was only growing more curious each time Charlie would drop what he was doing to take their calls.

Will had slept with him every night but two and had even helped him make sandwiches for dinner one night, handing Charlie slices of tomato with delicate concern, but meeting Charlie's family, finding out about the reality of Charlie's life, was something else.

“I don't want to make plans this early. It's too soon.”

“Ay, Carlos— ”

“Please, Nana.” Charlie scowled down at the floor, then at the counter. “I'll come out this weekend and see you.” If he was alone with her, she'd ask about Will, and if he told her, he'd feel worse when she never got a chance to meet him. He could already feel words rising out, stupid things about Will he wanted to tell her.

Will got so absorbed in movies, even movies he'd seen before, that sometimes his mouth fell open. He laughed out loud at them, too, and liked Charlie's fingers in his hair, at his back. His hand slid over to Charlie's stomach when he was sleeping, every time.

“I'll... . Will you be the only one there this weekend? If I... ?”

“I am watching Alicia. Your sisters will not be here. But you can't hide from them, Carlos.”

He could and he would, as long as he could get away with it or until they really needed him. But she wouldn't agree with him that they'd scare Will off, so he didn't bring it up.

“I'll come out on Saturday, okay?” He looked up, over, though he only had the setting sun through the window to tell him it was getting late. “I should go. I have to make dinner.”

She sighed, but let it go.

“Te quiero. Te vere este fin de semana.”

“I love you too. I'll see you Saturday,” Charlie told her, waiting for her to end the call before he set down the phone.

He had everything else put away and something in the oven when Will knocked at the door. It was a jaunty sort of a knock, and it made Charlie smile as he opened the door and Will rushed in, as usual. He came back a moment later for a kiss and dropped a bag of his own on the counter.

He pulled out chips and salsa like they were made of gold and then some bottles of beer. “It's, um, almost dinner.” He gave a ta-da gesture. Charlie couldn't help himself.

“If I'd only known you were taking care of the food tonight, I wouldn't have prepared my casserole.” His voice was dry, but he grinned as he stepped over. Will actually looked worried before he saw the smile. He narrowed his eyes.

“Considering you are eating cookies right now, I'd say you can't judge.” Will looked around and gave a small, fake huff before leaning over to kiss Charlie again. Will had seemingly decided, sometime recently, that he liked kissing Charlie. A lot. Charlie couldn't make himself mind that, either.

He raised his head too fast at the thought and pretended not to see Will's slight frown. He directed his attention elsewhere, feeling silly.

“I stopped by the video store to return something, and they had a sign up saying they were going out of business.” Will was looking at him funny. “I didn't own those titles, so I bought a few. You ought to go down there, to add to your coll— ”

He didn't get a chance to finish. With a jump, Will was looking through the stack of movies, occasionally glancing up in a way that made Charlie turn and deal with the package of cookies to explain his red face.

Will held up
The Maltese Falcon,
and Charlie licked his lips.

“With the late fees, I practically owned it anyway.” Any hope of Will not seeing through him was dashed when Will's mouth curved up. He looked back down and then let out a long, loud sigh to see
Sabrina.

“I still haven't seen it,” Charlie added quickly, but he suddenly felt obvious in a way he hadn't since the first time he'd talked to Will.

“Well,” Will pushed out, then he stacked the movies again before turning to put his back to the other counter. He raised his eyes slowly, and even if he had learned that move from Garbo, Charlie couldn't look away. “Well,” he said again, as though he was breathless. He was perfectly still.

Charlie moved his hands restlessly, just needing to do something to take Will's attention from his face.

“Will... .” If Will didn't want this, he'd say so, and that would be the end of it. Charlie could take it. He just had to wait it out. “I didn't make a casserole.” He turned as he said it, irritated with himself. He glanced to the side and watched as Will hesitated, then came over to take the food from the bag. He leaned against Charlie as he went to put his beer in the fridge, not asking, not that Charlie would have told him no. He pulled out two of the ones Charlie had just put in, made a noise when they weren't cold enough, but brushed Charlie again as he put them on the counter.

He opened them too and clinked the bottles together before taking a sip of his.

“For Bogie,” he offered, and Charlie looked up in time to watch Will swallow. Will met his eyes, then did it again. It might have been part of Will's routine, but Charlie mimicked him anyway, swallowing dryly. It was like having Will in his kitchen that first time, but at the thought he looked away again.

He opened the oven for no reason, then closed it. Nana was right, of course she was.

“Have plans this weekend?” he asked a little too casually and reached for his beer. It was warm, but he didn't care. Will gave him a suspicious look but shrugged.

“Nothing solid. You know, it's only Monday, and people who schedule things on the weekend tend to change their mind.” Will waved a hand, then opened his bag of chips and popped one in his mouth. “Do you?” he asked around his crunching.

Charlie took another drink, but nodded. “I'll be going out to my grandmother's.” Will blinked and put down his drink, then picked it back up and leaned nonchalantly against the counter. “Just for a day. Saturday.”

“Oh.” Will's eyes were right on his face. Charlie wished he knew what Will was looking for. “Is everything okay?” he asked, genuinely concerned, and Charlie let out a breath. He nodded again, and Will slowly leaned his head to the side.

Charlie let himself be studied, barely breathing.

“So you won't be here on Saturday?” Will seemed disappointed. He stuck out his lower lip in a pouty, sad expression but nodded. “Okay. I'll just have to lo— wait.” He straightened and brightened all at once. Charlie straightened too, his palm damp against the beer bottle. “Wait, your grandmother? Your nana, um, abuela?”

The way Will said that, pausing to exhale it, like he'd been practicing. Charlie wondered if he had been. He kind of thought so, because this was Will, and Will would want to get it right.

“Yes.” He said it more for Will's accent, and inhaled sharply at how delighted Will seemed for that. He was practically preening for a minute before he said something about someone he knew who spoke Spanish and
Dora
.

“So you might be busy?” Charlie touched Will's arm and watched Will shiver. He put down his beer and moved in closer, as if Charlie had invited him to.

“Um, nothing that's set in stone. Why?” He looked up, and then his eyes went wide. Charlie tried to his best to appear calm, but Will didn't bother. His mouth shaped a soft “oh” before he breathed in.

“Did you want to go?” Charlie had to ask, make sure it was clear. He stared at Will's face, watching amazement come and go, then worry, and finally, alarmingly, a smile. The alarm faded as Will went for sly.

“To your nana's house? Is this you asking me? Is this... .” He gasped too loud to be believable. “Were those movies a
bribe
? Why, Charlie, my Charlie. I had no idea you cared so much.”

“Will.” His face was burning. Put that way, he felt about fourteen. He tried to shift away, but Will's hand on his chest stopped him.

“I'd love to,” Will told him earnestly, then he bit his lip. “I can change my hair by then. You said traditional.” Charlie spent a dizzy moment contemplating that Will had remembered something he'd said weeks ago, and then shook his head, because Will didn't need to change anything. Will ignored his frown and kept going. “I should get something too. My mom... well, she said you always bring something. I don't know. Wine? Oh, I could bring her some of our flowers.”

“
Will
.” Charlie's anxiety was making his chest tight, but he could feel it easing when Will quieted and spent a moment with his head down. He should have known better. Will was practically glittering when he looked up. Charlie tried to cut off any questions before they could come out. “So, do you want dinner?”

“Dinner,” Will repeated blankly, his smile dimming only to get brighter a moment later. He shook his head. “You are seriously... . Yeah. Okay. Let's get something in you that isn't cookie.”

“I ate today.” Charlie let himself be distracted, though his frown intensified when Will leaned over to push his beer away.

“Uh-huh. And maybe no more beer until you eat. Though it is fun to watch you deny being tipsy.”

“I wasn't tipsy,” Charlie immediately protested, flushing hotter when Will laughed. But his heart was slowing, and Will was moving on as though the matter was settled, smiling to himself as he went into Charlie's cabinet to get out plates.

He didn't think Will noticed the small sign as they drove past it, any more than he'd noticed when they'd left the main road. They'd driven through town about ten minutes before, and Will had looked around with interest, but when Charlie had said they were close, Will had resumed his fluttering, checking his reflection and his hair every minute or so and then changing the music to get himself in “the right mood.”

Trying to keep an eye on him and quell his own nerves wasn't easy, and when they started down the long drive toward his family's farmhouse, Charlie swallowed and tried not to grip the wheel so hard.

He noted that the main fence needed some repair and that it had been some time since they'd cleared the brush by the entrance and knew he'd have to come back out for that, not that he wanted to think about what his next trip out here would be like.

The rows of valley oaks along the road meant that the heat was slightly lessened, but Will fiddled with the AC anyway, then the music again, which was coming from the MP3 player he'd hooked up before they left.

His choices were very Will— songs from musicals, music from the forties— but it didn't seem to be helping him calm down. He smoothed his hair again, which was still short but now flat and curved forward into something both young and respectable, then he leaned forward to unzip the bag at his feet.

He pulled out mascara, then changed his mind and put it away again. He hummed as he sat back. Charlie's attention momentarily went back to that bag. Will had grabbed that at the last minute too, darting over to his car and then sliding back into Charlie's passenger seat.

“I spend a lot of time driving,” he'd explained with a fast smile, stowing it at his feet. When he'd gotten in the car, he'd unzipped it to show Charlie some of the contents. For road trips and emergencies, he'd said, but it was packed with more than just flares or snacks.

Seeing the change of clothes in there had been startling. Charlie supposed he'd wanted to forget how transient Will's lifestyle was, how someone like Will might need to keep clean clothes in his car, but those fresh clothes stayed on his mind, though he'd fought down the sickness when he tried to think of Will settling anywhere and had been able to offer calm words whenever Will had asked for his opinion on his hair, or if the flowers in the backseat were wilting or his shirt was conservative enough.

Before they'd left, he had tried telling Will that he didn't need to dress down, or up, but Will had been a buzzing bundle of anticipation, and no amount of reassurance seemed to be working.

Charlie's stomach tightened again. Will was making a big deal of it. It
was
a big deal, but Will reacting like this was just reminding him that Will had never been in a relationship long enough to meet anyone's family.

It was too soon. It was probably a mistake. Nana would put pressure on him, or he would see that this was all there was to Charlie and he'd leave. Or she would like him, and when Will left, Charlie would have to explain to her, again, that he hadn't been enough, or too much.

The too much haunted him, no matter how often Will demanded more, and Charlie glanced over again, just as Will peeked back into the mirror.

“What do you think?” he wondered, either to himself or to Charlie, and Charlie said the same thing he'd been saying all morning when Will had asked that question.

“You look good.” His voice was too warm. He felt another surge of panic at the idea that he was still messing up somehow, then jerked his eyes back to the road when Will turned to him. He flattened his voice, made it calm. “Don't worry.”

“I'm not,” Will answered, too fast, and Charlie wanted to stop the car. He could. He could pull over and get his arms around Will and not let go, at least not until he was calm again and there was no blood rushing in his ears. “I just... I don't know much here, you know. And I could totally change if I knew— ”