Chapter 3
Charlie dodged and rolled as flaming arrows whistled past her ears, she skidded and leaped as runaway boulders threatened to crush her, and danced and weaved out of the reach of slashing daggers, only to be defeated by the intonation of a spell.
“Are you all right?” asked Rowan, his electric words pulsating through the airwaves to incapacitate her.
It was no use. His charmspeak was so powerful that it literally rendered her vocal abilities useless. The more she struggled against its crushing weight, the more she sounded like a wounded animal helplessly caught in a trap. She fought against the rigidity that engulfed her body as both she and the handsome stranger stared at each other, desperately trying to escape the trance she had fallen prey to. Finally, as the man's eyebrows knit into concern, she broke free of her state and blurted out the first thing that came to her mind.
“My name's Charlie Cradle and I hate pickles.”
I hate pickles, she thought, her face turning a bright shade of red, smooth.
“I hope you don't hate pickles as much as you do that guy’s beard,” said Rowan, smiling, “because then I'd have to feel bad for the little fellas.”
Shoving her mittened hands deeps into her coat pockets, Charlie sank her head into her shoulders, turned, and walked away, her shoes hastily scuffing the cool concrete sidewalk. She had never felt more embarrassed in all her life. In her mind, the situation was completely unsalvageable, and she made herself look like an absolute idiot. Walking away was the only solution.
“Hey, wait up!” said Rowan, running after her. “Where are you going?”
Lowering her head even further, Charlie picked up her pace and walked faster, trying to distance herself as much as possible from her embarrassment.
“I was only teasing about the pickle thing,” he said. “I actually hate pickles too. They're magnets for bad breath.”
“Could you please go away and quit torturing me?” asked Charlie, pitifully.
“Come on. That wasn't so bad. Look, I've already learned two important things about you: your name and your hatred for pickles. I'd say we're off to a good start.”
Finally, Charlie stopped and turned to face him. “Seriously, you're not funny,” Rowan recoiled, but still maintained a smile. She continued, “We both know I looked like an idiot back there, so why don't you just leave me alone so I can go hide in a cave?”
“Whoa, easy now. I didn't mean to hurt your feelings.”
“Yeah, well, I'm not exactly graceful with words.”
“And I can't play bass clarinet, so I guess that makes us just about even.”
Charlie narrowed her eyes and shook her head, trying to get an understanding of this guy. No one has shown such interest in her before unless they were up to no good. “What do you want with me?”
Rowan smiled, unaffected by her obvious attempt to push him away. “Is it so wrong to want to get to know a cute girl?”
Following his response, during that one single moment, the world did a pirouette and Charlie struggled to keep from relapsing into stupefaction. Here stood a gorgeous male, with his short dark hair perfectly highlighting bright and dashing eyes, with a smile that literally sparkled when caught in a certain light. And he said she was cute. Her.
“I'm a woman. Not a girl,” said Charlie, immediately inwardly cringing at her now second pathetic response, and secretly praying for any god willing to listen to take pity on her and end her excruciating social misery.
“Duly noted,” said Rowan.
Charlie couldn't help but notice that he was still smiling even after her constant awkwardness, except that this time his smile wasn't just playful and teasing, but genuine and understanding. Somehow the change in his smile made her feel different and okay. Like this was the way their initial encounter should have felt like. In some strange way, she felt like her previous mess-ups were necessary to achieving this specific moment they now shared.
If only she weren't so bashful.
In an attempt to furthermore reduce her anxiety, she joked and asked, “ASL?”
“ASL?” said Rowan, confused.
“It's internet speech,” said Charlie, laughing nervously while trying not to appear it. “It means age/sex/location. I meant it as a joke, but it's sort of lame really. I get asked that question just about on a daily basis.”
“So you're a creature of the internet?”
“Mostly for gaming,” she admitted.
Here it comes, she thought, the ever so often deal breaker. It was a gamble, but she only had a split second to decide whether or not to divulge that secret, especially to a guy who just called her cute, and she let it all out there. Being known as a gamer either brought legions of crazed geeks to her doorstep, wagging their tails and slobbering like infants, or made normal, got-their-stuff-together men shy away like it meant they would never have dinner cooked for them once married. Considering how attractive Rowan was, she could have kept this a secret for as long as she could. But who was she kidding? By how she dressed and the way she talked, it wouldn't have taken long for him to put things into perspective. Bookworm and gamer geek. That was her in a nutshell.
“I can't say I've ever been into online gaming...” said Rowan.
Yep. This was the end, thought Charlie. Any moment now, he'll be backing away slowly and looking for the nearest getaway.
“But I'm a sucker for LOLcats,” he continued.
Charlie stared at him in stunned disbelief. Where was the finale? The familiar desperate escape?
“You like LOLcats?” she asked.
“You say it like I'm some kind of nerd,” said Rowan, laughing.
“No! That's not how I meant it at all! I think they're hilarious.”
“Who would have ever thought putting funny captions to cat pictures could make a person cry laughing?”
“I know, right? But thank God for whoever came up with the idea, or else I wouldn't know how to spend Wednesday nights.”
“It's great to meet someone who appreciates funny cat pictures as much as I do.”
For a moment during their exchange of smiles, Rowan and Charlie locked eyes and a strange warmth spread through her veins.
“Maybe we could hang out sometime and laugh at some together?” he asked.
The warmth Charlie felt flowing through her veins suddenly ignited into sparks of astonishment and disbelief. Had he just asked her out on a date? At least, if looking at LOLcat pictures together counted as one, then maybe. She had never actually had a guy ask her out in person before. And again, not for the first time in her life, she embarrassed herself.
“You mean like a LOLcat date?” she said, once again inwardly cringing at her choice of words and lack of charm.
“If that’s what you’d like to call it, then yeah,” said Rowan. “A LOLcat date. What do you say? I think it’d be a lot of fun.”
“Um, sure,” said Charlie, still slightly stunned and confused as to why he would be asking her, of all people, out on a date. The man was gorgeous! “Yeah, of course! But how will we get a hold of each other?”
Charlie wasn't sure how he did it, perhaps it was a sleight of hand, but Rowan quickly snapped the fingers on his right hand and a small white card appeared out of thin air. She was impressed! She had always been fond of magic and had tried practicing simple card tricks but never got the knack for it. However he managed to conveniently snap that card into existence was neat, and it made her smile.
Rowan returned the smile and handed her the card. It was a blank and white, with nothing on either side except for a small name and email address printed into the center:
Rowan Astaire
[email protected] Considering the small act of magic she just witnessed, along with the unusual email address, Charlie wondered if perhaps he was a magician. If that were true, then perhaps he had a few other tricks in his repertoire.
Charlie accepted the card and placed it in her purse.
“Email me when
you've got some free time,” said Rowan.
“All right, I’ll do that,” said Charlie. “Thanks.”
“I hope to hear from you soon.”
Then one last time during that day, they both shared another smile together and then parted ways.
On her walk home, Charlie thought about how she had failed at her first attempt at living a more exciting life. Learning to wield dangerous weapons may not have been the best idea after all. But once she gave it some thought, had she really failed in the end? She was carrying a handsome man’s email address in her purse, who, she might add, gave it to her under his own free will. Even if a bit of anxiety had been thrown into the mix, something exciting most definitely happened that day.