Despite his obvious, lingering pain, Charlie insists on jogging and training on Sunday while I’m at Lighthouse. He stops by for his oatmeal for the first time in what feels like forever. Mr. Miller chats to him casually, and when Charlie leaves, my boss smiles at me knowingly, but he doesn’t ask any questions. Charlie and I decide on take-out that evening, and I spend most of the night studying.

After his training, and before he picked me up from the café, he had cleared his desk in the office, giving me a more “comfortable and conducive” study environment, as he said. I changed into my pajama pants and one of his shirts and hulled up in his office, cozying into his plush, generously sized, leather desk chair. During the extent of my studying, he brought me a snack and two cups of tea, and tried to sneak peaks at what I was working on. The second time that he exits the office, I turn in my chair and call after him,

“You’re being very helpful, but I’m going to need even more help on Tuesday, when I’m studying for physics.”

He laughs, but I mean it.

On Monday, I take my test in the early afternoon. When Charlie picks me up, we pack most of what is left in my dorm room and I leave a note for Andy, wishing her luck with finals and a happy holiday. While we’re packing my things into his car, Charlie mumbles something that I’m intended to hear.

“Sorry, what?”

“I said,” he speaks more loudly and clearly, “It seems a little silly that you’re parents are paying for a room that you haven’t stayed in in weeks. You could live with me for free, you know.”

I assume that he is only offering because he feels obligated, since we’ve just visited the very room that I’m paying for and have mostly abandoned.

“I don’t think they would want me moving out of the dorms officially yet,” I counter, “And I definitely would need to pay, if we ever live together. I should probably be pitching in now.”

Charlie just frowns and shakes his head at my suggestion, closing the trunk.

“Thank you for offering, though,” I say politely, as I climb into the passenger’s seat.

“I just didn’t want to you think that I would be freaked out if you wanted to move in completely. I figured you would want to keep your room, but, you know. And if you did decide to leave the dorms and live with me at some point, I would let you have my room and move into my office if you decided that you hate me. I wouldn’t ever leave you homeless,” he speaks dryly but smirks as he finishes his thought.

“I don’t think I’ll ever hate you, but I’m glad to know that I get the master. That certainly changes things,” I joke.

He is quiet for a moment, as he moves his hand to his lips and brushes his fingers across them, thinking.

“You might hate me when you see me box.”

I sigh, turning my head to him and leaning it against the back of my seat, “Charlie, we’re past this. I’m not afraid of you, and I know that my opinion won’t change after seeing you in the ring. You just have to trust me.”

We spend that night studying together for my exam: Charlie explaining, and I, learning. During our breaks, we make dinner and listen to an Elvis vinyl while we eat. I take the downtime to ask about Mark, and how he and Casey are doing.

“Mark has been behaving, and he’s convinced Casey to move back in. She was staying at her sister’s, you know,” he takes a bite from his plate and chews slowly, giving a long silence before he continues, “I think her condition was that he find another job.”

I give him a confused look and shake my head, “What do you mean? He – he can’t train you anymore? Casey loves you, though. Why would she do that?”

Charlie shrugs, swallowing another bite and picking up his water glass.

“She talked to me about it,” he says nonchalantly, bringing the glass to his lips.

“And you’re okay with this?”

He nods and goes back to eating, not meeting my eyes. Usually, I find Charlie’s mellow, gentle nature soothing, but I become instantly irritated with his passive attitude toward what I've just been told.

I set my plate on the coffee table in front of me and move towards him.

“Charlie, aren’t you upset? Does it not worry you that Mark won’t be able to train you any more? You can tell me, if you’re stressed,” I touch his arm, encouraging him as gently as possible to stop eating and talk to me.

“I’m not nervous. He needs a steady job to keep him occupied. Having a flexible schedule as a trainer to me and a few others left him too much time to cause trouble,” he stays completely neutral in his response.

“And what about his clients? What about you? There can’t be too many other creditable trainers in Clemson, not for a professional boxer.”

Charlie has the audacity to smile at my stress.

“I’ll figure it out, baby,” he sets his now empty plate beside mine and pulls me closer with one arm, “I’ve taken care of myself for a while now.”

He tries to kiss my cheek, but I resist, pushing my palms against him and leaning away with a frown.

“You’re mad at me?” He pouts, but still keeps his smile.

“I just feel like you’re not taking this very seriously. Are you in denial?” I semi-joke.

He laughs and pulls me back again, reminding me that my struggle to get away was not successful.

“That’s how I live my life, baby.”

“You don’t though,” I counter, “You’re right when you say that you’ve taken care of yourself for a while now, and I know you have some sort of plan that you aren’t telling me.”

He just smirks and I roll my eyes.

“I’m going to take our dishes into the kitchen, and then you can help me study more, okay?”

“What an honor. Are you sure you don’t want me to take those for you, princess?”

“Don’t call me that,”

Charlie laughs, yet again, “God, you’re testy tonight. Are you stressed about this exam? You’ll do fine.”

“I’m not stressed. I just don’t like being called, ‘princess.’ It’s degrading.”

Charlie raises his eyebrows at me and shakes his head, amused.

“You certainly are an adventure, Stella.”

I stand and gather our plates, leaving my half-full cherry coke and Charlie’s water.

“Also degrading,” I fire as I walk quickly towards the kitchen. I hear Charlie laugh, but I don’t turn back.

On Tuesday, Mr. Miller, Jimmy and I are all overly aware that today is Allie’s last day as our coworker. Towards the end of her shift, while there isn’t a crowd, Jimmy brings out a cake, and we have a mini celebration of her last day. Before retiring back to the kitchen, he hands her a small, leather bound notebook with a pink bow tied around it.

“Aw, what’s this?” she stares down at the gift.

“I wrote some recipes for you. The soup that I taught you is in there, and that salad that you like so much. I wrote some drink recipes, too – just things that I thought you might like. I passed everything by the boss, too,” Jimmy smiles towards Mr. Miller, while Allie pulls him in for a hug.

She grabs Mr. Miller next, and he tears up a little. When she pulls away, he removes his foggy glasses and rubs his eyes, sniffling with a sigh. “You be good, Miss Allie,” he smiles, “And you know I’m always here, if you need anything, boss-man or not.”

Allie hugs me last. We both say how much we’re going to miss each other, but promise to keep in touch, and when the other two slip off into the kitchen, she says something that surprises me.

“You’ve changed so much since I met you, Stella,” she pulls my long, hair from behind my back and spreads it across my shoulders. “You have something special with Charlie, you know. Don’t be afraid of it. I know it’s easy to look around at girls who are settling down, giving up things that they want for boys that they haven’t had long… Girls like me…”

She smiles and I interrupt by shaking my head, “No, I don’t think that. I was being ridiculous at dinner. I know that Ben is more important to you than a job. Besides, you’ve both known each other for years.”

“It’s okay,” she grips my shoulders, encouraging me to listen, “Just don’t be afraid to let him change you. Change isn’t bad, you know? You’re ambitious. You make plans and you have dreams. Just don’t let anyone make you feel bad about taking a better opportunity, like being with someone who means a lot to you – and by anyone, I mean yourself. It doesn’t make you any less.”

I had convinced Charlie to let me drive myself to work that day. He hardly even fought back, and I assumed it was because I’d been a bitch the night before. When I arrive back at his house, I am greeted only by Cooper. I call Charlie’s name, but am returned with nothing. I assume he must be out, until I hear a deep laugh coming from the back porch.

I look through the tall, glass side windows of the back door and see Charlie, pacing slowly and casually along the rail, staring down at his feet. He is dressed in his usual, dark jeans, a white t-shirt, and a warm looking, brown jacket. He looks warm, amidst the colder looking scenery, and I reach my hand towards the knob, wanting to be outside with him, to having him pull me into his chest and tuck me into the sides of his jacket. I pull my hand away when I remember how private and secretive he’s been about his phone calls, though, and decide to look over my physics notes from our study session last night. I gather after fifteen minutes that I can’t possibly study the subject anymore, and luckily, the back door opens with my realization.

“Hi, baby.”

“Hi,” I look up and watch him approach me, intending to look down again, to seem unaffected by his presence, but he’s distracting, of course. He moves in his controlled gate, running his hand through his messy hair and looking down at the ground with a pleasant, relaxed expression.

“Have you been home for long? I’m sorry, I lost track of time…”

“Yeah, I haven’t been home for too long. I didn’t want to interrupt your phone call.”

He sits next to me and pushes the notes from my lap. Then, he immediately wraps his strong arms around me and kisses my cheek, before moving his lips towards my neck.

“How was your day?”

“It was good,” I say quietly, distracted.

“I’m sorry for being difficult last night,” I confess, “I know you’ll figure out what to do about training, and it’s none of my business anyway. I should be appreciative of your even temper, not get annoyed when you don’t fuss over things.”

Charlie laughs, low and quiet, and then he presses his cold nose into the nape of my neck, causing me to jump. His arms hold me in place. “It’s okay, Stella, I don’t blame you for being irritated with me. I act passive, because I don’t want anyone else to feel responsible for my… load.”

“Interesting word choice,” I note, wrinkling my nose.

He bites his lip and pulls me on to his lap, “Don’t be immature. It was an appropriate use for an appropriate word.”

He grins for a moment, watching my lips, waiting for me to smile back. When I do, his lips settle into a content smile. I move my fingers to tap the soft, puffiness of his pink lips.

He allows my fingers to trace for a moment before taking my wrist into his hand, kissing my palm, and then laying both of our hands into my lap.

“I think we’re doing alright though,” he says, “I mean, we’re together a lot, and I haven’t annoyed you too much aside from last night, right?”

“Right,” I giggle.

“But I still don’t like you worrying about me. I don’t want anyone worrying about me, but especially not you.”

“Why especially not me? I think I’m the most qualified to worry. I’m around you the most, and I love you a lot.”

“Exactly. If you start worrying, I’ll become a burden, and you won’t want to be around me anymore. I don’t want that.”

“I don’t think that’s how –“

Charlie lifts me from his lap and lays me down on the couch beside him, turning and positioning himself so that he hovers over me.

“I love you. Just trust me that I’m taking care of things, okay?”

We aren’t exactly productive for the remainder of the evening, but we do get around to packing. Most of my things are packed already, of course. Charlie allows me to make suggestions of things to bring for the weather, possible occasions, etc. for our visit to my home.

“When we’re both back again, you can take part of my closet, you know. I kept meaning to offer.”

I nod, kneeling down to neatly place the shirt that I’ve just folded into his suitcase. He stands before me, his hands low on his hips. “Are you sure those are all okay? I feel like I should bring more of my dress shirts.”

I look up in time to see him push one of his hands through his hair, and then rub his neck as he stares critically and a bit worriedly at what we’ve just packed for him.

“You definitely have enough here,” I chuckle, “We’re very casual. My dad wears flannels, denims, t-shirts, like you, and my mom and I like our oversized sweaters. We won’t be attending any black-tie’s.”

He sighs, and begins to look around the closet again.

“Charlie, this is all fine! You always look good,” I zip the suitcase and stand, taking two steps towards him and resting my hands against his chest, “And you tell me not to worry.”

My mom and dad don’t even ask about my day that night. They are far more interested in what Charlie likes to eat, whether he likes tea or coffee, if he is allergic to anything. During the call, Charlie and I are already sitting in bed together. Charlie is reading over something that he’s printed from his office, I can’t tell what, and I suddenly realize that he’s wearing reading glasses.

“You wear glasses?” I ask, interrupting my mother’s thought over the phone.

“Me? Oh, he does? Does he wear contacts, too? Do we need to pick up some solution for tomorrow?”

“Mom, no,” I give her my attention again before Charlie can answer.

“I just wear them when I read, and when they’re at a convenient reach,” he grins, patting the bedside table.

“Ah,” I receive. That explains why he never wore them while he was helping me with homework.

“Anyways, mom, the main thing to remember is that he doesn’t like to be fussed over. He may refuse to let you cook for him, or insist that he pay for…”

Charlie cuts me off by grabbing my waist and tickling me.

“Stop,” he whispers, grinning.

When he knows that I’m no longer exploiting him, he rests his head in my lap, where my legs are crossed. I reach down and play with his hair while I finish the conversation with my mom.

“Tell him that we’re excited to have him. I love you,” she says, before we say goodbye.

“I will, mom. I love you.”

I place my phone on the side table and lean back further into the pillows behind me before moving my hand back to Charlie’s hair.

‘What were you reading?”

“Those papers that I printed? Just some things for our trip – nothing exciting.”

He moves from my lap after he speaks, retrieving the stack from his previous place in bed and tucking them into the drawers of his bedside table.

I’m not generally suspicious, and Charlie, in particular, is very un-suspicious to me – I trust him. I am incessantly curious though, and when I’d noticed that the papers were turned upside down on the bed, it only fueled my curiosity to near suspicion.

“Do I need to be doing anything? For the trip, I mean.”

“Nope,” he pulls the covers over his body again and settles down into bed, “I’m taking care of everything.”

I finish my physics final feeling much more confident than I’d expected to. I start to phone Charlie as I exit the building, planning to wait for him to arrive back, since I hadn’t taken long to complete the exam, but his car is already parked on the street across from me. He doesn’t notice as I approach, until I tap the hood of his mustang on my way to the passenger side.

“How did it go?” he asks, enthusiastically.

“Really well, thanks to you.”

“Good. Are we ready to go, then?”

I nod, and he motions to the drink holder between us, “cherry coke.”

“Thank you so much,” I exaggerate, reaching for the drink.

“You were quick. How were the Isaacs?”

After dropping me off for my final, Charlie had taken his house keys to Mark and Casey’s, since they’ll be taking care of Cooper again.

“They seemed a bit awkward still. Mark is always a bit awkward, of course,” he chuckles, “Casey is probably glad to have my key, in case she changes her mind about moving back in.”

“Has Mark found another job yet?”

“No. They are looking to move closer to Casey’s parents though, apparently.”

“Really?” I ask, surprised. Again, I find the news more unsettling than Charlie, strangely.

The car ride is pleasant and relaxing. We listen to the CD’s that Charlie burned me for my last trip home, which cover music for the entire trip. I remember wondering over Thanksgiving break if he had planned for that.

As we near my town, I feel Charlie becoming nervous.

“Are there any sensitive subjects that I should know about?”

“What?” I giggle, “Not that I can think of.”

“What about –” he starts, “I mean, I feel like I shouldn’t sleep in your room.”

Somehow I keep a straight face, though I do have to bite my lip and turn towards the window. I’m thankful for the sunglasses that I wear, too, for further masking my amusement.

“I’ve already taken care of it,” I state simply, “They think you’re gay.”

Charlie laughs, but follows up by questioning me, “Wait, they don’t really…”

“Well why else would they have been alright with me sleeping over all the time? I have them convinced that we’re watching The Real Housewives together while I let you braid my hair,” I say dryly.

“You’re not being serious.”

“You’re not sleeping on our couch.”

He continues to laugh and shakes his head.

“You don’t need to be nervous, Charlie. They’re going to love you! They’re easy going, and they aren’t naïve, either. That’s another perk of my ex-boyfriend and the accompanying issues. They sort of needed to know everything.”

Like me, Charlie wears sunglasses, but his frown is evident when he glances towards me and lays his hand in my lap, giving my knee a squeeze.

“We’re really close now,” I say, noticing the familiar scenery, “I’m going to call my mom and let her know we’ll be about thirty minutes.”

I dial my mother’s number and she answers after only one right.

“Hey! Are you close?”

“We’re just coming into town. We’ll be there in half an hour.”

“I hate to ask – but I forgot chips at the store, and I made dip. Do you think you and Charlie could stop by and grab some?”

“Yes, we will. Charlie says you owe him for detour gas, though.”

My mom laughs, and Charlie complains in the background about my slander.

“We have to stop at the grocery store, my mom needs chip. Sorry, she is forgetful,” I say.

“It’s not a problem. You’ll have to direct me, though.”

When we arrive to the store, I tell Charlie that he is fine to wait while I run in, but he insists on coming. I’m familiar with the store, and rush straight towards the chip aisle, pulling Charlie along by his hand. I’m anxious to get home, in a different way than I thought I would be. I’m actually excited to introduce my parents to Charlie. I know they’ll love him so much.

I bring my index finger to my lip as I consider the choices.

“How about these?” I point to a particular selection.

“Fine with me,” Charlie agrees.