When they got to the end of the night and everyone started leaving, Scott found himself wanting just a few more minutes with Charlie. He hadn’t laughed so much or felt so comfortable with another person in a long time, and he didn’t want to give that up.
He hadn’t wanted to give it up on Friday, either, but tonight he didn’t have to.
“Hey, uh…” Scott paused as everyone headed off in whatever direction their homes were, waiting for Charlie to stop with him.
Charlie spun around, his eyes glittering in the darkness, grinning broadly. He’d been laughing and joking with his friends a moment ago, and he looked so happy.
It felt good to see him like that. Scott didn’t know him well yet, but he wanted Charlie to be happy. He was obviously a good man, and he deserved it.
“I was wondering…” Scott kicked a rock by his foot, not sure if he should assume that Charlie would want to spend any more time with him. “Do you wanna meet my dogs?”
Charlie’s whole face lit up. Scott breathed a sigh of relief. He shouldn’t have been worried.
“I’d love to.” Charlie took a step toward him. “Lead the way.”
Scott nodded eagerly, turning to head toward home, smiling to himself when Charlie fell into step beside him. “I’m still trying to convince you to adopt one. They’re good dogs.”
“I believe you,” Charlie said, walking a little closer to Scott. That was nice, since the air outside was cooler now, and Scott hadn’t brought a jacket with him.
Neither had Charlie—just the sweater he was wearing—so they could probably both use the extra warmth.
“Thanks for inviting me tonight,” Scott said. “It was good to meet people.”
“You don’t have to keep thanking me. Believe me, I had a ton of fun.”
“So this is what you do, huh? For fun, I mean.”
Charlie shrugged. “There’s a lot to do for fun around here. We have a bowling alley. In the winter, the lake freezes solid and you can go ice skating. We go on picnics and at the height of summer we have movies in the park, plus a bunch of cool stuff around Halloween. It’s a small town, but there’s plenty to do.”
“You’ll have to show me,” Scott said. He could feel himself wanting to cling to Charlie. Spend as much time with him as Charlie would allow.
He’d never really had a friend like that before.
“That could be arranged. I’d actually love to show you everything.”
Scott liked the sound of that.
As soon as he stepped through the low gate at the front of his yard, the dogs started barking. It was a symphony ranging from high-pitched yapping to deep, booming barks, only slightly muffled by the front door.
They were usually pretty good dogs, but they got excited when Scott came home.
He kind of liked that, so he’d never really tried to discourage them.
“They sound excited to see you,” Charlie said, following Scott up to the front door.
“They think I have food. Plus, they know I can get food, since I’ve got thumbs and they don’t.”
“I think they love you,” Charlie responded.
A flood of dogs spilled out of the front door as soon as Scott got it open, milling around Charlie’s feet. The only one who stayed back was Chewie, sitting in the middle of the hall and crying softly, too afraid to run to the door.
Scott ducked past the other dogs, trusting Charlie to bring them inside and close the door, and scooped Chewie up, cuddling him close to his chest.
When he turned around, Charlie had closed the door and sat down on the hallway floor, letting the three other dogs climb on top of him and lick his face. Fluffy, a huge husky, had climbed into his lap and knocked his glasses askew, but Charlie was laughing his head off, trying to pet all three dogs at once.
Scott paused to watch him for a few seconds before whistling to catch the dogs’ attention. “Hey. Don’t eat him. Charlie is friend, not food.”
Charlie chuckled as he picked himself back up, straightening his glasses and pushing his hair back. His cheeks were red from laughter and his nose was red from the cold.
Scott looked away when he realized he was staring.
“So, uh, the big guy there is Fluffy. He’s normally a huge coward about new people, but I guess he likes you.” Scott nodded to the husky still hanging around Charlie’s legs, headbutting his knees for more pats. “The little terrier is called Tripod, on account of… well, y’know.”
Tripod was missing a leg, but she still managed to catch all manner of small animals in the yard. It was kind of gross, but that was what terriers were supposed to do, so Scott didn’t want to stop her. It wasn’t as though she was going after anything endangered, so he’d just chalked it up to the circle of life.
Besides, she’d taken Chewie on as her own puppy, so she wasn’t all bad.
“I get it. What about this one?”
“She’s called Biscuit,” Scott nodded to the elderly beagle Charlie was bending down to pet. “She’s pretty much totally blind, but she gets around okay. I think I’ve got her until she dies, but I’d like her to go to someone older who could give her tons of attention. She’d love to be a spoiled lapdog.”
“Maybe I could talk mom into taking her on. Not that mom is old. Not really. But she’d love another baby to spoil, I think.”
“I’d love to see her go to a good home,” Scott said. Especially one where he could maybe go and visit her, if he and Charlie were friends now.
“I can’t imagine doing this. I thought once that I wanted to foster children, but I couldn’t watch them go all the time. I get attached quickly.”
“So you wanna adopt instead?” Scott asked. Charlie seemed like he’d be a good dad.
Charlie shrugged. “Maybe. I don’t know what I want, I guess. I should work on that first.”
“You and me both,” Scott said. He’d figured out what he wanted out of his career, but when it came to anything else? He’d never stopped to think about it. Never really had the chance.
Hell, he’d never even had a long-term relationship. Charlie was beating the crap out of him at knowing what he wanted, as far as Scott was concerned. At least he already had his career.
Twenty-five wasn’t too old to still be figuring himself out, but he wished he was done with that.
“Can I get you coffee, or something?”
“I’m okay,” Charlie said. “I don’t want you to go to any trouble on my part.”
“It’s no trouble. Honestly.” Scott rubbed the back of his neck. He’d dragged Charlie all the way here, he felt like he needed to be a good host to him now.
“Coffee would be great, then. I’m not entirely sober.”
“Me neither,” Scott said, turning to head into the kitchen, still holding Chewie close. Maybe he shouldn’t have been babying him, but it was hard not to. He was so innocent and helpless, Scott couldn’t stop himself from wanting to swoop in and protect him.
Charlie followed him, and the rest of the dogs followed Charlie. They’d give up on him when they realized he didn’t have anything for them, but in the meantime, Charlie seemed to be enjoying the attention.
While Scott filled the coffee pot, Charlie sat down on the edge of the kitchen table, the dogs still gathered around his feet. He kept petting them, telling them how good and cute they were, and they were all lapping it up.
Being good with dogs was the sign of a good person, Scott thought. Dogs could smell people’s intentions on them.
Of course, he’d already known Charlie was a good guy. He didn’t need his dogs to tell him that.
Scott kissed the top of Chewie’s head, then put him down on the floor. He ran to Charlie immediately, who bent down to pick him up and settled him in his lap, crossing his legs so he was sitting completely on the table top.
It was easy to watch him while the coffee maker worked its magic, happy and laughing and bringing joy and warmth into the house. It was good to have someone else around for a while.
“You’re definitely a dog person,” Scott said, pouring two cups of coffee from the pot.
“I just want to be loved. Dogs love you no matter what.”
“Yeah. They’re great like that.” Scott walked around the kitchen counter and over to the table, holding out a cup of coffee for Charlie.
Charlie took it, holding the cup close to his chest. “Thank you,” he said, smiling warmly up at Scott, his eyes glinting in the darkened room.
Scott hadn’t bothered to turn the light on in the kitchen when he came in. The one in the hall was more than bright enough to see by, and he liked the dark.
He was standing too close to Charlie. He knew that, he knew that now that they were inside, being close enough to share his body heat wasn’t really a polite distance.
He didn’t move. Instead, he stared into Charlie’s eyes, transfixed by the way the light from the hall hit them. Even with only the reflections to go on, they still seemed so warm. So kind.
Scott leaned in. It was only a tiny movement, no more than an inch or so.
Charlie met him halfway, pressing his lips against Scott’s. The still-cold tip of his nose pressed into Scott’s own, the frames of his glasses dug into his cheek as Charlie’s lips parted, sliding over Scott’s with a firm, gentle pressure that made him gasp.
Charlie’s hand came up, cupping his cheek, holding him in place, and Scott stood there like an idiot, letting it all happen. His heart pounded in his chest, so loud that he was sure Charlie could hear it.
The moment stretched out in front of him like an eternity, and for every impulse that told Scott to push Charlie away, there was another one that wanted to lean in, kiss back, beg for more. He was paralyzed with indecision, unsure how to react, panic and arousal warring in his gut.
After just a handful of heartbeats, Charlie backed off.
Scott could see his reflection in Charlie’s glasses, staring open-mouthed, unblinking. Not reacting.
Still not sure how to react.
“I’m straight,” he said, his mouth getting ahead of his brain. It was the only thought he could form right now.
He was straight. He was definitely, totally straight.
Kissing Charlie should have been weirder, right? It was weird, but not nearly as weird as it should have been.
Charlie’s whole expression changed, horror dawning over his face.
Cold regret settled in Scott’s stomach, wiping away all other feelings. He’d screwed up.
He didn’t know exactly how, why, or what he’d screwed up yet, but he could see a path not taken closing off in front of him. This felt like a mistake.
“I’m so sorry,” Charlie said, easing himself off the table, his chest brushing against Scott’s as he did so. He put Chewie on the floor and his coffee up on the counter, the latter making a dull thunk as he set it down, a drop of coffee splashing out over the side.
“I have to go,” he added, straightening his sweater and turning away from Scott.
Scott, who was still standing there, useless. Still paralyzed.
Still sick with regret.
He watched Charlie walk out of the kitchen, heard him open and then close the front door behind him, and he stood and stared.
A lump sprang up in his throat, his stomach tight and uncomfortable.
He had no idea what the hell had just happened, but he knew something had gone horribly wrong.