Play It Again, Charlie (21 page)

“One what?” Charlie got out. Being called a sexy bitch had him hot all over, even knowing that that was why Will had said it. “What the... ?” He was in a family place. He went still and looked around, blinking away a familiar confusion, the feeling that he'd made a mistake, even if he couldn't pinpoint what. “Are you angry?” He should have asked, that was the easiest way to find out. He put his hands around his glass. It felt too cold, too much ice. “I'm sorry.”

Will just pointed to the plate he'd urged Charlie to try something from earlier, not looking even a little bit angry. Not quiet, though he spared Charlie a puzzled glance. “Come on, Charlie, finish up so we can go. Maybe we should get some of this to go too. Seems a shame to waste it.”

Charlie's heart kicked against his ribs. He blinked and focused back on the sounds of the party in the back, the fountain, Will talking and saying something about dates.

“You want to leave?” he asked, keeping most of that out of his voice, and more grateful now that he hadn't had something to drink since drunk, he wouldn't have been able to hide anything. Will angled his head to the side, perhaps finally noticing that Charlie wasn't following him, and then leaned forward once more. He picked up his chopsticks and used them to get a piece of his last roll and hold it out, obviously wanting Charlie to eat it.

Charlie didn't need to get fed, especially not in a busy restaurant. His face was hot, but he used his fingers to take it and put it in his mouth over the sound of Will complaining about him not taking it in his mouth, something so blatant he wasn't going to acknowledge it. His dates generally didn't end in being force-fed and hustled out of a restaurant. More like quiet goodbyes or equally quiet offers for coffee or a nightcap.

He swallowed. “No, we're not all like that.” He'd meant to say that earlier, after his attempt at humor, before Will had started acting like a maniacal butterfly.

Will dismissed Charlie's last comment; he'd known that all along. “Praise sweet baby J for that,” he remarked, sighing to himself. Charlie lifted his head and scowled at him. He was apologizing, and Will was acting as though he hadn't done anything. Christ. He wanted to scrub a hand through his hair and
barely
resisted.

“I thought you were starving,” he reminded Will, gesturing at the table for a distraction, and Will blinked rapidly. Like staying to finish eating, to finish talking, was the last thing he wanted to do.

“I thought you were too,” Will said back, quietly asking, staring with his head angled. He turned and smiled the second Bobby crossed over to them, but he kept his gaze on Charlie. Charlie looked up, found Bobby waiting on him too, and felt more than just his face grow warm.

He had to pause to clear his throat, strengthen his voice. He could see Will shifting in place from the corner of his eye. Impatient. Hungry. He couldn't even begin to think of what he'd done to earn a reaction like that. He wasn't sure he ever had, even on the dates that had gone on to coffee and sex. It was probably something unique to Will. And Will had been asking
him
if this had been a good date?

It had been, as far as he knew, albeit a short one. Or a long one if he counted this afternoon, he didn't really know. But he had been with Will all day, and Will was watching him with an expression on his face that made Charlie hot all over.

Charlie lifted his head. They were both still looking at him. Will seemed worried until Charlie turned to Bobby and tried a smile. Nerves twisted in his stomach all over again, but he smiled and kept his hands flat against the table.

“We'll need this to go.”

Will grinned.

Getting out of the restaurant had taken longer than he'd expected. Bobby had come out of the back with pieces of fruit soaked in a light wine and advice from his uncle who apparently worked in the kitchen. Charlie had left his dessert untouched and hadn't commented when Will had speared his on a toothpick and popped it between his teeth.

“What are you doing?” Will had asked a moment later, moving from where he'd been talking to Bobby at the end of the table to lean over Charlie's shoulder. His breath had been sweet and faintly alcoholic, and his hand had closed around Charlie's before Charlie could open his wallet. “Hold on, Papi,” he'd whispered, pleased with himself and laughing softly when Charlie had told him seriously that he wasn't his papi.

That he wasn't
anyone's
papi went without mentioning. Charlie had looked crossly in Will's direction at the idea that he wanted to be someone like, well, Grayson, but then Will had made it clear once more that that he didn't see Charlie as sugar daddy when he'd stopped him from paying for everything and handed him cash for his share.

Surprise had kept him silent when Will had scooted the check tray to the edge of the table and then slid his fingers through Charlie's to pull Charlie to his feet.

“Tricky, Charlie. Very tricky,” he'd remarked under his breath, as though Charlie had meant something by wanting to pay. He'd stared, but Will hadn't been drunk or even tipsy, just hotter and closer than before.

He'd kept their hands locked together until Charlie had opened the restaurant door and he'd had to walk through first. The earlier promise in his eyes hadn't been visible in the dark parking lot, which had already been filling with people heading to dinner or popping into the club before peak hours.

The streetlights by the apartment were on, though there was still the faintest hint of sunlight on one side of the sky. Charlie wasn't cold, but he watched Will as he closed the car door. There was no sign of fog despite the evening chill in the air. It was actually a beautiful night.

“I can't believe people are starting now. It's
early
,” Will commented, thoughts still on the bar. It was the first thing he'd said in a while. “Of course, that place is pretty low key.” He stopped on the sidewalk to study Charlie. “Your sort of club?”

Charlie's throat was tight, his voice thick. He had been mostly silent for the drive back, glancing over at Will in odd moments and watching him play with his phone.

“I don't really go to clubs.” Which made him sound like an old man.

“It isn't just about dancing,” Will tried to reassure him in the next moment, and Charlie let his mouth twist, because for once his hip wasn't the issue.

“I never thought it was.” The beep of the car alarm being set seemed loud, though cars were moving up and down the street. Music had been bursting out in the parking lot of the bar too, as people had opened the door to go inside, come outside to smoke.

“Did you want to go in?” Charlie had offered. Will had been moving slightly with each wave of sound as the bar's door and opened and closed, dancing without moving his feet. It hadn't seemed like a dumb question, even knowing what could happen when they went back to the apartment. Will might not understand Charlie's idea of dating, but Charlie could guess what Will was used to.

But Will had shot him a shocked look. “I'm good for right now.” He'd shaken his head and stopped. If it hadn't been for the headlights of an oncoming car, Charlie wouldn't have seen the color in Will's cheeks and how he wiggled his eyebrows. “Hey, Charlie, is cutting a date short a sign of a bad date or a good date?”

Charlie had curled his fingers into his damp, prickling palm.

“Never mind.” Will had skipped on before Charlie had been able to think of a clever response.

He still felt his words slipping from him. It wasn't like being drunk; it was more like the fuzzy cloud of his pills. Will hadn't touched him since the restaurant. He'd made a show of juggling the plastic bag of leftovers and his phone in the car, saying nothing but Charlie's name once inside the car, when the interior lights had grown dim, and Charlie still hadn't moved.

“Charlie.” Will slung the bag on one arm and peered up at him. Charlie shook his head, more at himself than anything else. Anyone else would have been ecstatic, would have jumped Will in that parking lot.

“I never got much of a chance to go to clubs when I was younger.” Charlie wasn't sure why he was explaining this now, or at all if Will wasn't interested, but Will stopped, and from the tilt of his head, he was listening.

Charlie hitched his shoulders. It didn't ease the tension. Will's phone had been returned to his back pocket, but he'd been making plans for later, and Charlie couldn't blame him. He didn't understand a thing about Will's idea of a good time.

“I had responsibilities.” He cleared his throat and moved. “And now, it's a little late to explore. I suppose the whole environment seems better suited to first glances. These days I don't think I make a good first impression.”

He sighed. The plastic bag crinkled as Will caught up with him. Charlie glanced at him and thought maybe Will was squinting at him.

“Well, now, Charlie, I suppose that
whatever
you are talking about, and believe me, I have no idea, depends on two things.” Will had that sweet tone in his voice, as light as the breeze shifting through his hair. “What the other person thinks is good, and what their first look at you is.” He hummed and glanced over, as though his first look at Charlie had been a good one. Since Charlie only remembered yelling at him, he frowned. “But you should give the bars a try. I'm telling you, they'd eat you up.”

Which made it clear about any more dates with Will. Charlie nodded slowly, unsurprised, and Will peered at him before turning his face away. “Though staying home is good too, away from those bitches.”

“You're just trying to get me drunk again.” Charlie paused to lift the overgrown branch of wisteria, though the path was wide enough that Will could have moved out of its way. He looked over again when they were through the gate. Will was smiling again.

The courtyard was quiet too, though a few lights were on above them. The flowers they'd planted were closed or dark, but the chaotic green explosion still stood out. They wouldn't have far to go to reach them, but Charlie slowed and looked up at Grayson's empty balcony.

“Most of the time, when you cut a date short, it means it was a disaster.” Charlie stopped across from the staircase.

“What? Oh.” There was only a breath in between the two words, but the tone went from confused to cool in less than that, making Charlie turn sharply. “Well, that was fast.” Will stopped close to him, not that he had been more than a foot away from him during the walk from the car.

“What?” Charlie put out a hand. Will's eyes were steady on him, with a hurt frown he had seen before. “No, I wanted... .” It was ridiculous, what he'd been thinking. Will had no reason to fake interest, and Charlie had thought what
he'd
wanted had been obvious this whole time. He took his hand away from Will. “If you wanted to"— he lifted his chin to finish it now that he'd started it, strong the way everyone wanted—"leave.”

“But we've got to refrigerate this before it goes bad.” Will held up his arm with the bag and shook it. He waited a moment and then turned and started walking again, away from Grayson's apartment. He gave Charlie a look over one shoulder. “And if that doesn't work, I could always offer to do your hair.”

Charlie's feet moved on their own, no matter how dizzy he was. He stayed on the cement, barely, and frowned for what he must look like, trailing after Will, not that it stopped him.

The security light switched off, then on again when he reached Will's side. He inhaled.

“Why would I want to leave?” Will asked before Charlie could say anything. He jiggled the plastic again in a frustrated gesture, but he kept his voice low. “After all of this, if you don't... I
swear
I do not get you.”

Charlie set his jaw. His dating skills were less than great, and he might not be the type for Will to settle down with, if Will were the type to truly date anybody, but he couldn't be
that
strange.

“That is usually what the getting-to-know-you portion of the evening is about,” Charlie informed him in a voice he knew was pissy, wondering when they'd gone from nervous and excited to almost fighting.

“I ask you about yourself and you don't want to talk, or so I thought, but then you keep surprising me.” Will dragged his hand down the length of Charlie's arm, stopping Charlie at the edge of the roses. His lower lip was out when Charlie looked at him, and he very slowly pulled his hand away. “You're like— ”

Charlie flattened his voice. “Something from another planet?” He smiled as politely as he could when the idea of ducking inside his apartment and staying there, alone, seemed wisest, and Will scowled. “Linus Larabee? Whoever that is.”

“Linus Larabee?” Will repeated, his mouth softening as he inched forward. “Lonely Linus Larabee with his dark, soulful eyes,” he breathed, then he quirked up one side of his mouth. “That was only the first time I've compared you to Humphrey Bogart, Charlie. That remake of
Sabrina
was crap, by the way— there is only one true Linus. You look nothing like Bogie, though.” He swept a look up and down. “Long Jimmy Stewart legs. Rock Hudson hair.
Maybe
Gregory Peck, without the eyebrows.”

Charlie raised his head in surprise.

“Linus Larabee,” Will said again, just a whisper. “I said that to... well.” Charlie knew what he was remembering, and swallowed, smoothing his hands down his sides. Will's gaze flicked away, then back. “But now I just might mean it.”

He snuck forward again, and Charlie's breath rushed out at the hand on his hip. Will's grin was startling. “It's a very good thing, if you were wondering. And not just because that makes me Audrey again.” Plastic crinkled as Will's other hand landed on Charlie's chest. Will was studying him while Charlie tried to reason that out, smiling in a way that made Charlie feel very, very slow.

He kept his head up at least but couldn't make himself look away. He was hot again, fuzzy, his blood suddenly pounding. Will had him riled so easily. It was unfair that he never affected Will like that in return. Will was still amused, pressing carefully closer to him.

“So did you want to go in?” Will was so light that Charlie frowned again, though he hadn't stepped away. Will shrugged, a slight motion. “Or should we stay out here?”