Consenting Adults (6 page)

At the end of the day's session, Charlotte met Deb at the
front of the classroom.

“Ready to go?” Charlotte was looking forward to a cream soda
float at the campus creamery.

“In a minute. I asked Steven to come along,” Deb said.

“Why?”

Deb laughed and shook her head. “What'd he do to rub you the
wrong way?”

“Nothing. He's just very sure of himself.” She watched him
pack up his messenger bag from across the room and tried not admire the taut
line of his calves.

“Since when is that a fault?”

She shrugged. Aubrey bounced over to Steven, grinning like a
fool. Charlotte couldn't deny she was cute. A thick mass of red curls, fair
skin, a smattering of freckles. Her voice was a little nasally, though. He
smiled and looked over Aubrey's head to where Charlotte and Deb stood. Aubrey's
gaze followed. Charlotte couldn't hear Steven's reply, but the pretty pout said
it all.

He slung his bag over his shoulder and approached the front
of the room, acknowledging them with a nod. As they walked across campus, Deb
and Steven chatted about his job search while Charlotte felt like the odd man
out. She trudged alongside Steven, trying not to resent his presence. She had
been looking forward to having one on one time with Deb this afternoon. Deb was
like a mother to her, and they hadn't gotten to talk much in the past month or
so.

She perked up a bit when she finally had her cream soda
float in hand. Before she could hand the cashier her check card, Steven stepped
in front of her and thrust a twenty at the cashier.

“I'll get it.”

“It's fine, I can get my own.”

“For all three.” He ignored her protest. The cashier
hesitantly reached for the money.

“I said I can get it.” She gritted her teeth.

“I heard you.” He took his change and smiled his thanks to
the girl behind the counter, who promptly blushed. Good lord. Was she the only
one not all that impressed? She stalked out to the patio without another word.

She didn't like being indebted to anyone, even if it was for
less than five bucks. Especially not some smug guy who thinks his recently
earned college diploma makes him an authority on life.  After a moment, he came
out of the building and sat down next to her. Deb trailed a few feet behind,
but before she reached the table, her cell phone rang. She stepped farther away
and took the call.

“Pistachio is so pretentious,” Charotte said of Steven's
double-dip waffle cone.

He laughed and shook his head. “Is that better or worse than
being trite?”

She flushed against her better judgment and hoped any color
on her cheeks would be mistaken for the effects of the sun. She gazed out
across the green stretch of campus between them and the main academic
buildings.
The Common Grounds
is what everyone called the open space. In
the middle of summer now, there were more sunbathers than study groups
clustered on the lawn. She studied each one that was close enough to see
clearly, but no matter how hard she concentrated on tanned bodies and colorful
blankets, she couldn't ignore the weight of his gaze.

“You're staring,” she said, without meeting his eyes.

“Why cream soda?”

“What?” She looked at him that time, and immediately
regretted it. Didn't he ever blink?

“Root beer float, sure. Coke float, even. Why cream soda?”

The sun glinted in his eyes. At least she thought it was the
sun. Eyes couldn't naturally possess that much sparkle, could they? She looked
down into her cup, then silently cursed his ability to make her uncomfortable.

“It's what I always get.” The melting ice cream formed a
frothy foam on top of the soda. She scooped some up with her spoon and brought
it to her lips. It began to fizz and melt away the moment it hit her tongue.
She loved the mellow caramel flavor of cream soda as opposed to the almost
spicy bite of root beer. Vanilla and caramel. Few things worked so well
together. “Why mess with perfection?”

“I agree.” He reached toward her and wiped the corner of her
mouth with his thumb. His eyes bore into hers like he was looking for
something.

At the brush of his fingertips across her cheek, her spine
shifted into a sensuous curve and the hair on her scalp prickled. A flutter of
eyelashes obscured her vision for a moment. She couldn't keep looking at him if
he was going to keep looking at her like that. She averted her eyes, feeling
like a part of her was showing that she'd much rather keep under wraps.

“Sorry.” His voice tickled the base of her spine even as his
hand dropped back to the table.

Deb finally joined them at the table, oblivious to the
tension of a moment ago.

“Sorry about that, guys. Gary is taking the boys to the lake
for a little while and couldn't find Gregory's swim trunks. I swear, if the man
bothered to move something, life would be a little easier.”

“The lake sounds really good right now,” Charlotte said. Her
cheeks burned. From the sun, of course.

“Maybe you can come with us some time next week,” Deb said.
“The boys have been asking about you.”

“I miss their little faces.” After seeing them and helping
care for them every day for more than two years, she was having cuteness
withdrawal since moving out of Deb's house earlier in the summer. She glanced
at her watch and sighed.

“What? Oh, you don't have to leave right now, do you?” Deb
asked.

“I have to get ready for work.”

“Where's work?” Steven asked. She pretended not to hear.

“I left my uniform in the dryer last night, so I’m going to
need to starch it to death.”

“That's too bad. I wanted to ask you guys how you liked
working in small groups today.”

“I got some great feedback,” Steven said, grinning.

Deb looked at him, then Charlotte.

“Apparently I’m trite.” He still smiled when he said it, but
she blushed anyway. God damn, she wished he'd stop making her do that.

“Not you, the poem. Although you're getting there.”

“Charlotte doesn't hold back when it comes to criticism,”
Deb said, smiling.

“Oh come on, you say that like I get some pleasure from it.”

“I said no such thing. But maybe it says something that
that's what you heard.” Deb winked and nudged Steven with her elbow.

Maybe she was right. Charlotte shrugged it off and stood up.

“Call me tomorrow,” Deb said. “There's something else I
wanted to talk to you about.”

Charlotte stiffened. The air grew thick, as though the
humidity had doubled. She already knew what the
something else
was, and
she didn't want to discuss it any more.

“I told my Aunt no. I’m not changing my mind.”

“Honey, I just want you to understand
—
”

“No.” She angled her body more toward Deb, in an attempt to
remove Steven from her peripheral vision. “I have nothing to say to him and
want nothing to do with him. He has no legal standing over me anymore. I made
sure of that.”

“I know. I get that.” Deb stood and embraced her briefly.
“Sorry I brought it up here. Just call me, okay?”

“Okay.” She smoothed her shorts over her hips, more to iron
out her irritation than to rid herself of wrinkles. “Give the boys hugs and
kisses for me.”

“Of course.”

“See ya, Charlotte.” Steven's voice made her pause mid-turn
as she was leaving. She looked back over her shoulder. His smile worked some of
the tension out of her shoulders and she smiled back. He'd at least earned that
much.

Chapter Two

Two weeks after their first meeting, Steven once more found
himself walking next to Charlotte toward the campus creamery. Deb didn't have
to ask him twice to come along. He and Charlotte had ended up in the same small
group during workshop once again. He was halfway sorry she didn't have anything
nearly as biting to say about his writing this time. Despite his best efforts,
he had mostly positive things to say about hers. He'd urged her to submit the
story to some literary journals for publication, but she laughed him off.
Charlotte was still a mystery to him.

She was the quiet girl who never said much, but always
looked like she had a lot to say; the girl who carried herself with a quiet
assertiveness that a man couldn’t help but find attractive, even if she’d
barely spoken to him. He was a little old for these kinds of crushes-from-afar,
but he couldn’t help himself. He’d caught himself more than once daydreaming
about her slender fingers and where he’d like to feel them, or her pouty lips
and what he hoped they might say to him. God, he was pathetic.

Charlotte ordered a cream soda float again. Steven opted for
butter pecan. He wondered if that was more or less pretentious than pistachio.
Reaching for his wallet, he let the cashier know he'd pick up the bill for all
three again.

“Please don't,” Charlotte protested. “I can get my own.”

“I’m sure you can. But I’d like to get it.” Was she really
going to put him through this again?

“Once was more than enough.” Her eyes were stern and dark.

“I insist. I want it to be my treat.”

“I’m perfectly capable of paying for myself,” she said.

“I never said—”

“No, you never
said
anything about that, I know.”

So what was the issue?

“But by insisting like you are, you’re basically implying
that my four-dollar ice cream might put me into crippling debt if you don’t
step in and do something.”

His face burned. “Hey, come on. It’s not like that.”

“It’s insulting, the way you’re throwing your money around.
And it’s not even that
much
money.” She set her jaw and he knew she
wouldn’t back down this time.

He watched her walk outside without so much as a look back
at him. He was stunned. And embarrassed.

“Don’t take it too personally,” Deb said from behind him.
“She doesn’t like me paying for things, either. And she used to live with me.”

Charlotte lived with Deb? He would've asked more about it,
but he was still dumbfounded over her reaction.

“It’s only ice cream,” he said.

“Maybe for you.”

“Not for her?” Really, it was only ice cream. He wasn’t
trying to buy her soul.

“You’ll have to ask her that yourself.”

He handed his check card to the cashier again. He’d at least
pick up Deb’s tab. The clerk waved him off.

“You’re taken care of.”

“What?”

“The young lady paid for your group.”

His embarrassment turned to sheer delight. He looked
outside, where Charlotte had already settled at a table, engrossed in her ice
cream. When he and Deb joined her, she smiled at him, looking rather proud of
herself. He’d have to remember not to underestimate this one.

The three of them sat for a little while and talked about
everything and nothing. It was nice to hang out with these two women. It
felt... grown-up. He owed a lot to Deb for the way she'd helped guide him in
his coursework, and now in his job search. He started out as an English major,
with a concentration in creative writing, and didn't add on the Education until
his sophomore year, which extended his studies from four to five years. Deb was
there to answer all of his questions, help get him into mandatory classes even
after they'd filled up, and now she'd offered to pay him out of her own pocket
to be her assistant for the fall semester, or at least until he secured a
full-time teaching position.

She also got bonus points for bringing Charlotte into his
life. He couldn't imagine how he'd never met her on campus before now, in a
creative writing class or something. Maybe she wasn't an English major. If she
wasn't, she needed to be. Plenty of people had told him that he would never
make a living writing encouraged him to study something more lucrative, but he
never caved to that pressure. Maybe Charlotte had. He'd make it his mission to
convince her she had talent worth pursuing as a career instead of chasing money
as a nursing major or whatever she was. At the very least, that would be his
excuse for trying to chat her up every chance he got.

Charlotte stood and started saying goodbye. She had to leave
for work again. He still hadn't figured out where she worked and wondered if it
was just an excuse to leave. She kissed Deb's cheek. What would it take for her
to interact with him that way?

“See you later,” she said in his direction.

That was good enough for now.

“I think she thinks I’m obnoxious,” he said to Deb when
Charlotte was out of earshot.

“She thinks most guys are.”

He watched her leave and decided he liked her. A lot.

He’d only met studious, serious women in his other writing classes
and workshops. Nothing wrong with them, except they sometimes took themselves
too
seriously. The sorority girls and Elementary Ed girls had the spunk and verve
he liked. Like Aubrey. But there were too few women who embodied exactly the
right balance of determination and playfulness he was looking for. Charlotte
Greenbrier—the pretty girl with the chip on her shoulder—just might be
different.

“You’re staring,” Deb scolded.

“That’s what she said.” He fingered the strap of his
messenger bag on the ground next to him. Part of him wanted to get up and go
after her. Another part feared the look of contempt he might encounter if he
did.

“Well, go on,” Deb said. “If you go now you can still catch
her.”

His grin probably extended past his ears. “Thanks. I’ll see
you next week.”

He slung his bag over his shoulder and started off at a jog
toward Charlotte, now a small dot nearing the parking lot. The bag thumped
against his thigh and his flip-flops proved undesirable gear for chasing women,
slapping against his heels and threatening to stay behind in the grass with
each step.

Even though she’d barely give him the time of day, he was
mesmerized by her for some reason he couldn’t quite pinpoint. Maybe it was her
shy silence that intrigued him. Part of him was afraid that he was intrigued by
her only because she refused to play along when he tried to flirt. Stubborn. He
liked that.