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It was then I realized it. For the first time, her big brown eyes weren’t sad.
Chapter Four – Charlie
I slept like a baby that night. Being with Brett had tuckered me out so much I literally fell asleep minutes after I laid down in bed—and that never happened with me. Heck, I’d been in such a good mood that even my parents had noticed. During dinner, mom had asked me what had me smiling so much, and since they knew I was dating him, I’d simply said, “Ian.”
I needed to make a mental note to remember his fake name. One of these times I was going to slip up and call him Brett, and then the charade would be over. I couldn’t claim ignorance about him and his crimes if I knew his name was Brett Banks.
My parents weren’t very happy about it, but they’d gotten used to the idea of me dating someone who wasn’t Zak. They weren’t very approving of how much older he was, but there wasn’t really anything they could do. I was nineteen, old enough to make my own mistakes, as my mom had put it.
Yeah, my mom didn’t think we’d last. I’d had to fight with myself to not argue with her about it. Even if she might be right, I didn’t want to hear it. I didn’t know what the future held, but all I knew was that right now, I was happy.
God, it was incredible how fast things changed. One moment I was trying to muster up the courage to end it all and then, bam, Brett showed up and made me happy to be alive. How weird was that?
Maybe it was because I actually slept that night, but when it was time to get up the next day, I was raring to go. Bright-eyed and bushy-tailed. I practically jumped out of bed to shower.
Okay, an exaggeration, because who literally jumps out of bed?
I was smiling to myself when I walked down the stairs, running my hands through my wet hair. Normally I showered after class, but yesterday… for some reason, I didn’t want to wash anything off. Knowing a part of Brett was with me even though he wasn’t physically with me filled me with satisfaction I couldn’t begin to describe.
Brett was in the kitchen, sitting at the table, sipping on some coffee. His sunglasses were folded near him. He was ready to come with me to campus. His blue eyes flicked up at me when I strolled in, and a low smile spread across his face.
“Good morning,” he said.
“Morning.” I stopped in front of the fridge and stretched, and then I opened the freezer part and got some waffles out. I was busy making the waffles—and by that I meant putting them into the toaster—but I could feel Brett’s eyes following each movement I made. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say he couldn’t take his eyes off me.
I poured myself some orange juice, not needing any caffeine to keep me awake this morning, and grabbed myself a plate out of the cupboard. When my waffles popped up, I lathered them in butter, got myself a fork, and sat down across from Brett.
As I cut into the stack of two waffles with the fork, Brett’s eyebrows lifted. “No syrup?”
“I don’t like syrup,” I answered him, stuffing a piece of buttery waffle into my mouth. My whole life, I’d always stuck to simply buttering my waffles. The syrup my parents got was too sweet—but not like the good sweetness. Like a fake kind of sweet, if that made sense. They got the cheapest syrup the store sold, so I was sure that was a part of it.
“You don’t… I’m sorry, I thought you just said you don’t like syrup.”
“I don’t.”
Brett set his coffee cup down. The eternal smirk he wore faded, and all he did was stare at me with an open mouth, like he couldn’t put two and two together to get four. “You what? How can you not like syrup? Charlie, don’t take this the wrong way, but what the fuck is wrong with you? Everybody likes syrup on their waffles.”
I flashed him a smile, which caused his gaze to momentarily drop to my mouth. “Not me.”
“Yeah, that’s what you keep saying, but it’s not sinking in. I just don’t get it. How can you not like syrup? You’re basically just eating flour and butter.”
“I think there’s a little bit more to it than that.”I mean, these were blueberry Eggos, for goodness sake.
“Maybe, but it doesn’t change the fact that without syrup nobody would eat waffles or pancakes.” Brett just couldn’t get over it. “What you’re doing right now is against every law of nature. Ask anyone.”
I laughed as I stuffed another bite into my mouth. I was definitely not the only person in the world who preferred syrup-less waffles. The way Brett was talking, I was an abomination of nature. Maybe waffles without syrup was a little weird, but I didn’t think it made me an abomination.
“I’m serious, Charlie,” Brett went on, pausing to take a sip of coffee. “You’re a freak. A little freak. I knew there was something wrong with you the moment I saw you, but I had no idea the depths of your depravity—”
Another laugh escaped me. “I’mthe depraved one now? All because of no syrup? Please.”
“Beg all you want. Nothing will change the fact that you’re one messed up little girl.” He shook his head in utter disdain, deadpanning, “No syrup. What kind of uncultured swine are you?”
He was probably going to say more, but I stopped him by cutting a small square off the waffle, haphazardly sticking my fork in it, and flinging it his way. It landed on his chest and fell to his lap.
Brett’s head bent down, and he plucked the waffle piece off his lap and stuffed it in his mouth. He chewed and wiped off the small spot of butter on his shirt. “See? Tastes like shit.”
“Oh, my God, you’re so annoying.”
