Not Who You Thought (BxB Drama-Romance)

Saying It Back

Now

Beneath my feet Charlie's skateboard rolls. I've only skateboarded a few times and I'm certainly not good at it. At the end of my street I go over a rock and almost faceplant, then manage to right myself in the nick of time. I pass the lake houses as I skateboard until I'm turning down his street.

Anticipation climbs in my throat when I see his house. Charlie's family lives in a pine house with blue shutters. It's two stories tall and the yard always looks immaculate. It's my first time walking up to it, a fact that makes me extremely nervous.

There aren't any cars in the driveway, which I take as a good sign. Charlie's father is definitely at work, which means the only other parent I might have to take my chance with is his mother. I haven't heard much about his mom, all I've heard about is his father.

I don't think anyone is home. I stand on the porch and ring the doorbell, my stomach twisting into knots. It looks suspiciously dark through the windows, which makes me feel both relieved and disappointed.

If no one answers, I might go home and bombard Charlie with more texts until he answers me. He left his skateboard in my car last night, so I can hold it hostage until he talks to me again. The worst case scenario is that I creep around town until we find ourselves at the same place at the same time, but that idea makes me feel like a stalker.

"I heard you knock the first time."

My knuckles are still raised to knock and I freeze with them midair. "Charlie," I say with relief. "I'm glad you answered. Can I come in?"

He glances at his skateboard with a longing expression. I hold it out to him. "I knew you'd miss it," I say quietly. "Here, take it. The decks were coming loose, so I screwed them on tighter before I came over."

"Thank you." He takes it and gives me a small smile. He looks tired, the circles under his eyes darker than usual. "No one else is here," he murmurs. "You can come in."

Inside things are neat and tidy, giving the place an unlived appearance. The surfaces are clear and free of dust as if nothing is ever used. Above the door, there is a cross, and a plaque on the wall as we climb the stairs is inscribed with the phrase "Jesus is the HEAD of this house." I follow him to his bedroom, where my eyes hurt from the sunlight pouring through the windows.

"Wow, you have a nice room."

I'm not lying, it is nice. His room is bigger than mine, and his bed is a queen instead of a twin like I have. There's a bookcase full of books, which upon further inspection are mostly series that are read in middle school and children's picture books. This fact might not faze me if he didn't like to read, but I'd watched him read ebooks numerous times on his phone. He likes to read horror and gay romance novels. On a low shelf is a pale blue record player, below it records are packed tightly on the shelves. Old records, music from a different decade that he never listens to.

The strange thing is that there is barely anything out of place. There's no Tylenol bottle on his bedside table, no rumpled blanket on the bed, and no clothes tossed on the floor. It doesn't look like it's supposed to be Charlie's room, it looks as if it's supposed to be a prop. There's no evidence of his life lived out; this room could be anyone's.

"What's going on?" Charlie sits on his bed with a slump while I look around his room.

"Where're all your clothes?"

"In the closet." He points to a closed door.

"Oh." I feel disoriented by the sight of his room. I know I'm not supposed to be here, and I can't shake the uneasy feeling that blankets over me with this knowledge. "When will your parents be home?"