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I take it from him and hold it on the table, training my eyes there. The cup is warm against my palms and smells deliciously of the morning—bitter coffee beans.
“Do you want anything in particular to eat?” he asks.
I scowl up at him.“Are you being funny?”
He snaps his thick eyebrows together.
“Why would I want anything in particular to eat?” I say.
“Don't women have cravings when it's this time of the month?” I think he's trying not to smirk as he sits back against his chair, looking as cool as ever.
My scowl hardens. I have cravings every fucking second of every fucking day, but not for food.
“Chocolate?” He raises his eyebrows at me.
“I don't eat chocolate.”
“You should.” He sips his coffee with steady movements. “It's supposed to have natural pain relief chemicals known to be effective on women. And it's supposed to help with bad moods,” he adds with sarcasm.
I don't answer him. I'm worried I'll say something I'll live to regret and end up unleashing the evil within him, because it has to be there somewhere. He can't be like this with everyone, surely?
Guzzling down the rest of his coffee, Charlie gets up and leaves the kitchen without saying goodbye.
I close my eyes with a harsh sigh, simmering over the possibility that I've pissed him off. I know I don't say much as it is, but I'm not usually this blank and rude to him—or I don't think I am.
Half an hour passes, and then he's back with a flimsy blue shopping bag in hand.
“Chocolate.” He drops the bag in front of me on the table, shoving car keys away in his jeans pocket. “Eat, and cheer up.”
Shit, he is pissed off.
“Sorry,” I say, looking down, squeezing the cup in my grasp. “I don't know what's wrong with me. I should know better than to be rude to you.”
“S'all right.” He winks at me when I peer up at him. “Do youwant tosit with me while I make my phone calls?” He takes a seat next to me again, the wooden frame creaking under his weight. “Tis' gotta be better than being cooped up in your room.”
I'm confused. Is he pissed off with me?
I try not to frown at him, keeping my expression ironed out.
I can't really tell what mood he's in.
“I... sure, if you want me to?” I shrug, feeling a bit weird with today's situation. Is it just me, or does he seem different?
“Course I want you to.” Charlie empties out the contents of the rustling bag and peels open a few bars of Galaxy Caramel. He tucks into the chocolate with gusto, popping a few cubes into his mouth amid dialing someone.
I don't think he is pissed off. He seems to be taking my bad mood in his stride.
Strange.
He starts speaking in Spanish to his caller. I make out something about prices, and I feel like I'm intruding.
“Charlie,” I whisper, pointing out, “I can go up to my room if you-”
He shakes his head, giving my shoulder a gentle squeeze. I tense up, wishing he wouldn't touch me. I can't deal with his intensity today. All I want to do is pounce on him or hit him.
Still speaking on the phone, he nods at the chocolate, I assume for me to have some.
I grab a square and nip off the corner with my front teeth, and the sensations that rush through me are stimulating. It's like nothing I've tasted before. It's fucking delicious, sugary and creamy and mouth-watering and... I can't find the right words to explain what chocolate is like for me.
