Play It Again, Charlie (16 page)

He should have known this would happen from the way Will had practically exploded with delight at his first glimpse of the nursery. He'd been like a hummingbird the second he'd seen the number of plants filling the building and the yard beyond it, making Charlie feel stupidly pleased that he'd chosen to go there and not to a big box store.

He could only assume, from the happy, stunned
"Oh"
that had slipped out of Will's mouth when they had walked into the store that Will had never been inside a plant nursery before. He'd instantly vanished and reappeared in front of a table full of what had looked like dahlias. Charlie had found him peering down into their petals with a studious look on his face before Will had wandered into the trees section, and then Charlie had lost sight of him. He'd been standing in line, his weight on the cane that Will had assumed he'd need, when he'd seen Will again.

Will had been talking to an employee in a green smock, his hands flying all over the place. He had had her laughing like they were old friends, though they didn't seem like they had anything in common just to look at them. She'd had on clothes meant to get dirty. Will had changed into ripped blue jeans and a faded, shrunken gray T-shirt with lettering on it. The shirt was a little too tight, though at least it had sleeves.

Charlie let his gaze drop, just a little, just for a moment, to Will's bare forearms, and then his flat stomach and waist that the shirt didn't hide. When he brought his gaze back up, Will was grinning at him.

Charlie cut another branch. The swirling in his gut felt a lot like nerves, like opening his front door and having Will's eyes sweep over him in a way that could have meant something.

Trying to get him to stick around by buying flowers was just embarrassing, was even more humiliating if Charlie considered that of all the flowers that had caught his eye that Charlie had decided to buy, Will had seemed the most impressed with his purchase of a pair of gloves. They weren't fancy, but Will had stopped while helping Charlie load up the car to examine them, as though he honestly couldn't wait to get a better look.

“You liked all the flowers?” It had been a stupid, obvious question, and it had made Charlie feel young, like he should be pinning those flowers to Will's prom dress, which was an image he didn't know how to process for so many reasons.

“Of course.” Will hadn't appeared to notice that Charlie had scowled after he asked. “Though they aren't the best part.” He'd pulled out the pair of work gloves by the tag holding them together.

Charlie had bought him a plain pair of gardening gloves, olive green with red stitching, and when Will's mouth had made a small circle, probably from disappointment, he had rushed into an even more embarrassing explanation.

“They're just gloves.” He'd switched his cane to his other hand to take the gloves away and then realized he had nowhere to put them, so he'd handed them back without looking over. “I don't really expect you to do this if you don't want to. But if you do, you'll need them. They don't need to be pretty. You just don't want blisters.” At least he'd finally shut up there.

“They're perfect, Charlie. Thank you.” Will had tucked the gloves into a back pocket instead of putting them in the bag again. “You know, I don't think a man has ever bought me protective gloves to keep me blister-free before,” he'd murmured with a straight face and shining eyes, then leaned closer to poke a finger at him and order Charlie not to move as he pushed the flatbed back toward the store.

They'd stopped for lunch on the way back, but once they'd arrived here, Will had put the gloves on and not taken them off.

Charlie watched them, Will's hands in them, as he illustrated some point to his captive audience.

He resisted the urge to look over Will's crazy hair, though it was starting to make sense now that he'd seen Will's “art” in action. Those flowers would only look like a mess if the person looking at them hadn't spent several hours watching Will fret and fuss over that patch of dirt, but Charlie now knew for a fact that each plant was exactly where Will wanted it to be. It wasn't much now, but in time he had no doubt it was going to be impressive. It had better be. Will was so particular that Charlie had given up about an hour in and gone to work pruning the roses.

From this distance he didn't have to listen to Will's criticisms and corrections, most of which, he'd realized too late, were directed at Will himself. All the “but it has to go here, because” and “maybe I could” and general mutterings made him more grateful that he'd had the sense to step back.

Will's future neighbors had better watch out. Flowers, Charlie suspected, might end up being as much art to Will as hair.

At that thought, Will ran a hand through that golden crown, too excited to notice he was sprinkling dirt everywhere. He looked over at Charlie while still talking to Mrs. Brown. Charlie stared back, then recalled himself enough to drop his gaze to the pile of stems and leaves at his feet.

It had admittedly been awhile since Charlie had been out with anyone, or even had a friend who wasn't from work, but he thought anyone might have been uncertain about Will's intentions. He wasn't certain Will even knew. He'd been antsy from the second he'd reappeared next to Charlie in line, evidently deciding that the awkward teasing from the female checker, who couldn't have been more than eighteen, was something to be dealt with for Charlie's own good. He had zoomed in to wrap himself around Charlie, not seeming to care about the public scene he was making or the fact that they weren't actually together.

The cashier had coughed. The woman in line behind them had been openly interested. Will's arm had stayed around Charlie's waist. He'd ignored them both.

“Oh,” he had breathed while looking at the flatbed overgrown with greenery. “You got all of them.” He'd raised his head and blinked rapidly before focusing on Charlie.

Charlie had gone still, his skin itching and warm. He'd swallowed to wet his throat while staring at Will in return, sure that he hadn't done anything to deserve a look like that.

“All of them,” Will had said again. “Do you get reimbursed for this, Charlie? Because this stuff can get expensive. There was a tree over there that cost more than a watch.”

Charlie still wasn't sure what he'd been supposed to say to that. All of the flowers Will had oohed and aahed over had been lovely and not that expensive. The last thing he'd been expecting to hear from Will was concern about the state of his bank account. “They were pretty,” he'd managed.

“And then there's the work that has to go into them.” Will had gone on as though Charlie hadn't said a thing, but his frown had lifted. “You have to protect them from insects and watch the soil. Did you know you have to monitor the pH levels in your soil?”

At least Charlie knew what Will and the employee had been talking about. He snuck another look over at Will, who was probably explaining that very thing to Mrs. Brown, who obviously did not care.

If Will
had
been annoyed with Charlie about the flowers, it had all been forgotten in favor of acid levels.

Will hadn't been kidding about the chemistry, Charlie reflected, trying not to remember the rest of that moment by the counter in the nursery and failing, because he was possibly still red.

“Charlie... .” Will had objected with a single word, drawing out Charlie's name until Charlie had given in.

“It's not a big deal. I just wanted them.” Charlie had been handing the pen back to the cashier and deciding he'd felt ridiculous enough for one day when she'd smirked at him.

“Wait!” Will had announced, and honestly, it hadn't been that loud, but Charlie knew he hadn't been the only one staring at Will, he had just been the one staring until his eyes had burned. Will was beautiful and strange and completely unlike anyone he'd ever met. Flaming, certainly, but he was also unable to contain his excitement over soil acidity. Will had stared back at him as though he wasn't aware they had an audience. “You said I'd need gloves, and I assume you didn't mean latex.”

Charlie had slowly breathed out.

“There's a pair of gloves already in here,” the cashier had informed Will helpfully, too helpfully, and though it wasn't the girl's fault, Charlie still blamed her for his blush and the way he'd stumbled as he moved forward.

Will had given a long sigh, as though the sight of Charlie blushing was enough to have him floating. “Isn't he the sweetest thing?” he'd asked the room at large, and if Charlie
had
wanted to feel like a sugar daddy, that would have done it.

He'd set his shoulders and headed out, with or without Will. He could only wish that what he'd felt had been disappointment when Will had followed after him, then slid in front of him. It had given Charlie the choice between letting Will slip between his arms and probably tripping over his feet and cane while inhaling the scent of Will's hair product, or stepping aside to let Will push the flatbed by himself.

“Enjoying yourself?” The snippy tone had returned, though Charlie hadn't felt angry.

“Somebody had to rescue you.” Will, naturally, hadn't bothered faking innocence. He had actually brightened.

Charlie shook his head at the memory and at his response as they'd reached the car.

“I'm capable of dealing with one flirty teenage girl. She was probably just out of high school.” He'd paused when Will had stopped and studied him again, head to one side. He'd realized Will was waiting for an explanation and cleared his throat. “My sisters were once that age.” Will had waited for more. “It was like once they were out of school they had to try everything.” It had been terrifying. “It's how people learn. At least I was there to help them.

“That girl would have already moved on to something else if I'd just left,” he had finished, with Will staring at him. “I can take care of... .” Feeling repetitive, Charlie had stopped. Will had filled in the rest for him, deliberately misunderstanding.

“Everyone else? I wonder.”

“You didn't need to embarrass her.” Rejection always hurt; public rejection was never necessary.

Will had raised his head.

“You're the one who was embarrassed,” he'd countered quietly, as though he'd known all along exactly what Charlie had been originally talking about. “I didn't realize you were so touchy about your public image,” Will had gone on, then he gasped. “You're not in the closet, are you?”

Charlie had glared down at him, not bothering to respond to that. Like not wanting to make a scene in public or humiliating someone else equaled being closeted.

A few moments later, clearly aware of that, Will had waved it off.

“Okay, okay,” he'd sighed as they'd opened the trunk. “I guess all teenagers do dumb things,” he'd commented softly, staring at the shivering leaves in his hands and then attempting a shrug. He'd glanced up, into Charlie's eyes, and then turned away to set the plant down carefully. “But maybe I was just in a good mood. Maybe, Charlie, I just used her as an excuse to be near you. Honestly, I'm glad I'm not the only one who needs a translator here.”

It was still a depressing thought. Charlie looked over again.

“But things are more than a first glance, you know? So this should be attention-getting from a distance, but something softer up close,” Will wound up, lowering his volume just a touch.

Will and Mrs. Brown were standing over the circular plot, with Mrs. Brown still holding her purse, because she'd stopped to ask Will what he was doing about ten minutes ago and hadn't been able to step away since. Charlie would have rescued her, but considering the number of times she'd waylaid him, a few minutes wasn't all that bad.

It wasn't often Charlie got to label someone else controlling, and the idea made him grin.

“This diz— ” Will swallowed, then rolled on, and Charlie glanced over in time to catch Will's chagrin. His eyebrows twitched up and then down, to see Charlie smiling. Mrs. Brown said something encouraging, and Will turned his head back toward Mrs. Brown, but his eyes stayed squarely on Charlie. “This nice woman at the nursery suggested I come back at the end of the summer, try other flowers if some of these don't make it, or to get some that bloom in the fall.” He jumped out of his own conversation abruptly, swinging all his attention to Charlie. “Hey, does that mean we're going to have to replant every season?”

Charlie's eyebrows went up too, though that had obviously been a slip of the tongue.

“No.” Charlie rejoined the discussion while picking at the loose leaves stuck on the thorns. The smile tugged at his mouth again. Will's gaze was on him, taking that in. “Luckily, you picked out perennials.”

“You picked out all of these?” Mrs. Brown seemed taken aback but recovered by the time Charlie shook the last leaf free. He could tell from the corner of his eye that she was watching him with a look that was probably universal to every grandmother, and he straightened. He hadn't done anything wrong. Not that that had ever stopped his grandmother from giving him that look, just in case he had. As he'd gotten older, he'd realized it had actually been a useful trick and had used it on his sisters and other people acting suspiciously. “Well, they're lovely, honey.” Mrs. Brown pursed her lips and patted Will on the shoulder.

Charlie opened his mouth but wasn't sure what he was supposed to say. He wasn't about to talk back to anybody's grandmother. Will hardly noticed, anyway. He tilted his head.

“Perennials? As in... ?”

It earned him another pat from Mrs. Brown.

“'Long as you keep watering them, they'll keep flowering every year.”

“Oh.” Will turned to Charlie. “Guess you're stuck with these.” He bit his lip, then streaked more dirt through what had been carefully tousled hair. “Sorry.” His hand was out, palm up, in an unconscious echo of his thoughts. “I didn't think... . Well, they might not turn out.”

“It's fine.” Charlie drew his eyebrows together when Will's hands fell to match his gaze. “Really. It saves me trouble.” Mrs. Brown could have given Nana competition for a stare that was both fear and guilt-inducing. “
And
... .” He wasn't done, but he took a deep breath and made his voice louder. Will was looking at the flowers, so Charlie spoke to her. “It's going to look fine.”