“Do you know what you want for dinner yet? We can just make something at my house again, or we could go out, if you’d rather.”

Charlie isn’t wearing workout clothes this evening. Instead, he wears a large, predominantly red, plaid flannel layered with a white undershirt and dark jeans. He keeps the sleeves of his flannel rolled to his elbows, exposing some of his tattoos.

“I like your cooking as much as anything I’ve had out. Do you want to just stay in?” I don’t want to bore him – I’ve no way of knowing how often he likes to go out to eat, or go out, period; I do like being at his house, though, just the two of us – for now.

He smiles, and I assume he’s okay with the idea.

“You could try to teach me,” I say, “How to cook, I mean. I’m not nearly as good as you are.”

"I'll teach you," he smiles shyly, just as we pull into his garage.

“Let me get your things for you,” Charlie says, stepping out of the car before me. I gather my bag from under my feet as he walks around to my side. He opens my door and pulls the bag off of my lap. He allows me to step out of the car and closes the passenger side door before following me inside. Cooper greets us again, and I make sure to speak to him, kneeling down to pet him. He flips over on his back, and I laugh and rub his belly.

I only ever had one dog growing up. His name was Skippy, and he actually looked a bit like a brown Cooper. My parents and I loved him so much. He lived to be very old – nearly fifteen – and when he died just over a year ago, I promised myself that I would never love another dog again. It was cheesy and dramatic of me, but I’m only admitting that now because I already like Cooper so much.

I stand and follow Charlie further into the kitchen, where I lean on the counter and watch him. He appears to already be planning what to cook. He looks so cute, shuffling around his kitchen in his casual-yet-cool outfit.

“I told my parents about you today.”

Charlie turns to face me and raises his eyebrows slightly, “You did?”

“Yes. You should thank me for putting it off too, because you would've had to hear my mom’s high pitched squeals for five solid minutes.”

“She was that upset?” He asks worriedly.

“No! No – squals are a sound of elation and bliss around our house. Remember? I told you they love it when I meet decent people, and a boy is particularly exciting for them. Not that they're trying to marry me off by any means, but I wasn’t close with any guys after Jason. I didn’t date, and I was grew apart from so many of my friends. They just want me to meet nice people.”

He looks relieved, but there is still a solemn quality to his demeanor that usually only exists when I’ve accidentally offended him.

“Do you think grilled chicken and mashed potatoes sound good? I have vegetables we can cook, too.”

“Yeah, that sounds amazing, are you hungry yet though? We can wait. I have homework I should do. But if you’re hungry-”

“No, that’s alright. Do you want to do your work at the bar or in the living room? I’ll grab my laptop and work on some things as well.”

“The couch sounds best. My legs are tired.”

Charlie grabs my bag again before I can get to it, and he carries it to the living room for me. As I settle into the couch, he disappears down the hallway to get his laptop, quickly returning and sitting next to me.

I prepare to do the homework that I've been avoiding for days: physics. Because of necessary credits, and the fact that I was decent at physics in high school, I took the class at Clemson. I thought that I would be doing well for my GPA, while also completing certain gen ed requirements. I was so wrong. The class is impossible, and I am not interested whatsoever. Only five minutes in, I am already running my hand through my hair, which I’ve left down in its long curls. Soon though, I am so stressed that I pull it up into a high ponytail. I always have to put my hair up when I’m working on something difficult. Apparently I believe my own hair to be a distraction.

Charlie has been glancing at me from his laptop, and he finally asks with a smile, “Are you having trouble?”

“Yes,” I say, “I am not a physicist.”

“I could look at it for you, see if I could help.”

Charlie said that he made good grades in high school, and he seems very intelligent, but I have my doubts as to whether or not anyone could help me with this assignment. Reluctantly, I hand him my textbook and papers. He sets his laptop aside and begins to look over the assignment.

“You have cute handwriting,” he smirks, still studying the paper. After a minute or so, I wonder if he is actually trying to learn it. If it weren’t my own homework, I would have taken one glance and handed it back to whomever I'd offered help to; the assignment looks terrifying.

“You don’t have to—" I start to relieve him.

“Here’s where you’re going wrong,” He says, scooting closer and placing the book to sit halfway on my crossed legs and halfway in his own lap. He goes over one of the questions, giving me a clear, accurate example and explaining how I’ve been doing it, respectively, and it makes perfect sense.

“Oh my god!” I say excitedly, “How did you figure that out?” I take the book back into my own lap and he reaches for his laptop.

“My aunt and uncle are both teachers. They were always good at explaining things.” He says it so simply, but I am beyond impressed.

“College physics is impossible, Charlie, my whole class thinks so.” I want to add that he should be in school, that he should have taken the football scholarships and gotten a degree, because he has more potential than anyone that I’ve met in school; but he loves to box, I shouldn’t think like that.

After Charlie’s lesson, my assignment goes very quickly, and soon, I’m packing my books back into my bag. He notices and turns off his laptop, placing it on the coffee table in front of the couch. I’m standing close enough for him to reach out his arms and pull me onto his lap. I sit, straddling him and he kisses me, running his soft fingers through my hair. My mind drifts to where this led last night…

He pulls his lips away suddenly.

“I was working on getting everything arranged for a trip that I’m taking this weekend, to Charleston.”

“Oh?” I say, questioningly.

“Yes, a gym is paying me to come in for the weekend and train people. I know we haven’t been…hanging out for long yet, but I would love for you to come, if you’d like. I’ll only be in the gym for about 5 hours on Saturday and Sunday, but it will be very early.”

“I would love that so much,” I probably sounded too excited, but I really do love Charleston. My parents and I had a fairly comfortable life, but we didn’t have much extra money to travel with. When we could though, we would take trips to Charleston, and I always loved the atmosphere.

“I have to work though, until seven on Friday. That will probably be too late for you to leave, huh?

“Not at all. I’ll drive us, I’m fine with leaving at seven.” He smiles and me and I lean down and kiss him.

“You’re sure you don’t mind me tagging along?”

“Absolutely,” He says, “I want to take you.”

My arms are loose around his neck and his hands are low on my waist. He looks content that I’ve said yes, but I still feel like his eyes look stressed and I wonder what’s been on his mind.

I halfway ruin the moment by mentioning money, but I feel like I need to.

“Just let me know how much I’ll owe you for gas and a hotel room.”

I assume that we will be sharing a room, since I’ve already slept over at his house.

“Stella, do you really think I would invite you on a trip and expect you to pay for things? Don’t be silly. You won’t owe me any money for gas, or the room.”

My phone starts to ring in my bag.

“Well, I’m glad to know that you aren’t just using me so that you can cut your travel expenses in half.”

Charlie laughs as I climb off of his lap and go to retrieve my phone. I remembered Charlie saying that people would pay for him to travel to them sometimes. I wonder if he even has to pay for the room himself. I hope not.

I see that my parents are calling and, if I knew they wouldn’t worry, I would probably not answer right now. I know that my mother probably wants to call and see if I’m still with Charlie and to ask how things are going. I laugh to myself before answering.

“Hello?”

“Stella! It’s mom. Are you still with that boy? Charlie? What are you two doing?”

“Mom,” I simply state, “We are together now, yes. He’s just helped me with physics homework and invited me to go to Charleston with him this weekend. Oh, did I tell you and dad that his trainer basically got me a job with a child psychologist in town? I have to work Fridays, which means I’ll have to come home early from Thanksgiving break next week, unfortunately. I don’t want to ask for time off yet since-“

I was trying to divert attention since I casually just informed my mother that I would be spending the weekend away with a boy whom I only just told her about today, but she doesn’t ignore it for long.

“Charleston? Stella, are you sure that’s safe? I mean, I trust your judgment, but make sure that you feel safe. What are you two going to do in Charleston? Is he in the room now? Can you ask him a question and shift the phone so I can maybe hear his voice I-“

“Mom, where is dad?” I need him to rein her in.

“He went to take a shower, ask your boyfriend if he knows the what the weather is going to be like tomorrow. Act like I’ve just asked. I just want to hear him!”

“Mom, no.”

She just called Charlie my boyfriend.

“Stella, just wait until you have a child who’s moved away and has a boyfriend or girlfriend whom you’ve never met. You’ll be asking the same thing.” She laughs at herself.

“God, I hope not.” I say, and I laugh, too.

“Oh that’s great about the psychologists job though! Are you still going to work in the café?”

“Yes, I like working at the café. I’ll work there for as long as I can. I should go now though, mom. I’m being rude.” I smile at Charlie, my phone still in my hand.

“Fine,” she says, “But at least tell him I’ve said hello and that I want to meet him soon. You could invite him to Thanksgiving! Does he have family?”

“What? Yes, I’m sure he already has plans. I love you, I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”

I feel bad, but I have to be blunt with her sometimes, and just end the conversation.

“I love you, Stella. I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”

I hang up the phone, tucking it back into my bag. I assume no one else will call again tonight, unless my mother tries again to see if, by chance, Charlie will answer. I can’t believe she just told me to invite him to Thanksgiving. Is she really so eager for me to have a serious relationship?

“Tell me you couldn’t hear her enthusiasm,” I said, sitting back down on Charlie’s lap. I had sat down beside my bag during my phone call, in hopes that he wouldn’t be able to hear my mother’s voice, but she wasn’t quiet for much of the conversation.

“Not clearly,” He laughs.

Thank goodness. Maybe he didn’t hear her say that I should invite him to Thanks-

“What plans did you tell her I had?”

“Um,” I look down and begin playing with the buttons on his flannel shirt, “She told me that I should ask you to come home with me for Thanksgiving. You need to visit your aunt and uncle though. Isn’t that what you planned to do?”

I look up again, into his deep eyes. He had been watching my hands, my small fingers fiddling with his shirt, but he looks up with me.

His arms were both around the back of the couch, making his broad chest seem even more open. I feel very small in his lap. He brings both of his arms down and around me, lacing his fingers together behind my body.

“I will probably go to visit them, yes.”

We are still looking each other in the eye, but I start to feel guilty for not simply inviting him to my house, so I lay my head down on his chest. He tightens his arms around me.

It seemed insane when my mother suggested it, and he did just say that he would probably be visiting his family – but I’m in his house now, and he’s just invited me to go on a weekend trip with him. I feel rude now.

I start to play with his shirt again, this time just fingering the soft fabric, my head still resting on his chest.

“If you do want to come home with me though, you’re welcome to. You would get along great with my whole family.”

I look up at him again and he smiles, “I should go see my aunt and uncle, I haven’t been home in a long time. I would love to meet your family soon, though.”

“What are they like? Your aunt and uncle, I mean.”

I sit back more on his lap so I can look at him but his grip on me is tight, so we’re still very close.

He thinks for a moment.

“My aunt was a few years older than my mother. She married my uncle when she was only twenty-one. They are both teachers, like I said before. They always made sure that I did well in school. Um-“

“What are they like though? Really like?”

He looks confused for a moment, but I know that he understands.

“My uncle is quiet and seemingly gruff. He would probably remind you a lot of Mark, my trainer. But like Mark, he is such a good man. A better man, really. He stepped up and became my father when he wasn’t even blood. He took care of me when I didn’t deserve to be taken care of. He is so good to my aunt. He would never hurt anyone, unless they tried to hurt her. But he doesn’t have to protect her often, because everyone around town loves and respects my aunt. She makes everyone feel special. She isn’t loud necessarily, but she is always lively and light. There is a certain timelessness about her, and she always seems to know what’s coming. They taught me a lot. The most important thing that I learned from them was how to do well with what I have. I think that’s the most important thing that you can teach anyone, really.”

I smile, so big that I probably look dorky, but I don’t care.

“That’s what I meant,” I say, “That’s what they’re like. They sound amazing.”

He smiles back at me, he looks so cute with a wide grin on his perfect lips.

“You don’t much bother with the simple facts, do you? What people do, what people say – it isn’t of consequence to you – you want to know why, right? You see a person as a who, and not a what. I like that about you.”

“That’s true. I try not to reduce people just so I can pretend to understand them. I’m not completely uninterested in the trivial qualities of people, but I prefer to hear descriptions like you just gave. Just think how much it would mean to your aunt and uncle to know that that’s how you see them.

“People rarely tell each other how they really see one another. They aren’t nearly as afraid to throw around things like “I love you.” It holds a lot of meaning, but it is so simplified. And simple is beautiful, sometimes. But to tell someone: “I love you because you have a certain timelessness about you, and you always seem to know what’s coming.” I think people would trust “I love you” more if they understand how they’re being seen – that they’re really being seen at all. It’s why we love, how we understand one another that is so special, in my opinion. That probably doesn’t make sense.”

I had kept eye contact with Charlie the entire time that I was talking, but as I begin to doubt myself at the end, I look away.

Rather than responding, he takes my head in his hands and brings me to face him again. He stares at my lips and then into my gray eyes.

“It makes perfect sense.”

He kisses me so perfectly after that. His hands tug gently at my hair and I shift in his lap so that my bended knees are on either side of his body. I start to push my hands through his curls as his soft, warm lips move from my lips to my jaw.

His hands are out of my hair and back on my waist. He pushes up my shirt slightly and his hands feel so nice on my bare skin-

Then his phone rings.

I laugh a little into his neck and climb off of him.

He pulls his phone out of his pocket and answers. I think that I hear a woman’s voice, but I don’t think much of it. As she’s speaking Charlie starts to look worried. He looks to me and mouths, “one minute,” getting up from the couch, walking into the kitchen.

I guess it’s peculiar, but I just can’t be upset about it. I genuinely don’t worry about Charlie with other girls, at least not right now. I just like being with him, getting to know him, him. But I also don’t feel that I have much of a reason to worry – he’s very respectful, and I trust him.

I don’t want to seem like I’m just waiting, or trying to eavesdrop on his conversation, so I carry my bag into his bedroom. I take my phone out of my bag to keep myself busy and head back to the living room.

As I start to settle back into the couch, I hear a soft, scratching noise at the back door. Charlie had let Cooper outside earlier. I get up and walk to the back door, and I remember the bench swing that hangs on his back porch and how much I wanted to sit in it. I open the door, keeping Cooper outside with me, and go to sit on the swing. I feel strange just wondering by myself, but when I sit back into the dark wood of the swing, I don’t regret my decision. Cooper sits at my feet as I start to swing gently and slowly, careful not to cause him to move. I stroke his head and he leans into my hand, almost smiling. I speak quietly to him for a while about how nice the night is. The air has a perfect, chilly breeze to it.

I continue to pet Cooper, and slowly lean my head back, closing my eyes and taking a deep breath of the comforting, autumn air.

“Do you want a blanket?” I hear Charlie’s voice and look to him, opening my eyes. He holds out a thick, plaid wool blanket as he walks towards me. I reach out and pull the blanket onto my lap and Charlie sits down next to me.

I scoot close to him, sharing the blanket, of course.

“It’s so nice out here,” I say looking out to his yard and the trees that surround it.

“It is. This is my favorite part about having a house, being able to have a yard and a porch. It’s lovely.”

“Mmm.”

“Are you not going to ask who I was on the phone with?” Charlie asks suddenly, turning his head to look at me with a sort of amused expression.

“Um-“

“It’s just, most girls are so defensive about those things. I was expecting to come out here and find you pouting. I guess I should have known that you would react differently about this, too.”

He laughs and puts his arm around me, pulling me closer.

“I would feel silly, getting upset over something like that. You have seemed a little upset though. Did the call have something to do with it? You can tell me about it, but you don’t have to, either.”

“That was my trainer’s wife on the phone, Casey Isaacs. She had texted me earlier to tell me that Mark was planning on meeting up with his friends later to gamble. He has a bit of an addiction. Well – not a bit – his gambling has caused a lot of problems for his family. She called to tell me that he’d gone, even after we’d both asked him not to. I just told her to call back if there was any trouble.”

“What kind of trouble would there be?”