“Ditch?” he said.
She nodded. “Ditch.”
He led her to his trunk, where he grabbed his blanket. Their blanket. They didn’t speak as they cut across the grassy field, and that was okay. He was holding her hand. He was guiding her with his characteristic assurance. He was Charlie, and he was here.
They reached the wooded boundary of the park, and Charlie stepped down the steep incline of the ravine. He braced himself with a wide stance and helped Wren hopskip to meet him. He spread out the blanket. Charlie sat, and Wren sat beside him. She put her hand on the front of his shirt and, with a question in her heart, gently applied pressure. Do we want to lie down? she was asking him. Do you want to lie down?
He did. She lay beside him and placed her head on his chest.
“Charlie. I am so sorry,” she said.
“It’s okay,” he said, though he didn’t sound quite like himself. A few seconds passed, and he said, “I’m sorry, too.”
Wren’s ribs loosened. “Is Dev all right?”
“He’s fine.”
“Good.”
Charlie’s chest rose and fell. Wren was in his arms, where she belonged. He was warm and strong and right.
“Sometimes I worry that your problems are bigger than mine,” she said softly. “Like with Dev, and your foster parents.” She hesitated. “Everything you’ve gone through. Your job.”
“My job?” Charlie said.
“Well, yeah. You work so hard. You put in so many hours.”
“You work hard, too,” Charlie said. “You sewed me up at Grady, remember?”
Yes, but that was volunteer work, and, while it was important, she could call in sick or take a personal day if she wanted. She got the sense that Charlie really couldn’t, because Chris counted on him. Charlie contributed to his family in a non-kid way. Part of her thought it wasn’t fair that Chris asked so much of him. She wished Charlie could just enjoy summer and being done with high school and the freedom that came with that. Another part of her admired Charlie’s work ethic immensely, along with his loyalty to Chris and Pamela and Dev.
She tried to explain. “I know. You’re right. But you have stuff going on in your life that … I don’t know. It makes my problems seem so silly. And then I feel bad for feeling bad, and I want to rise above it, but—”
“Wren. Your problems aren’t silly.”
Throwing a tantrum because you didn’t text me back after I sent you a sexy picture of myself? she thought. That was pretty silly—and even so, the fact that he hadn’t texted her back still hurt.
She would rise above it. She burrowed closer and whispered, “I’m just not sure I’m good enough for you.”
“Hey,” Charlie said. He adjusted his position so that he could look into her eyes. “You are always good enough for me. More than good enough for me. Don’t ever say that, Wren.”
She gave him a wobbly smile. If he said she was good enough, she should believe him, right? She wanted to be done with the fighting, or the discussing, or whatever they were doing as they tried to get past last night’s bump in the road. And that’s all it really was, wasn’t it? Just a bump in the road, and now that they were past it, wasn’t it time for a kiss to make things better?
“You’re more than enough, too,” she told him, angling her body so that more of her touched more of him.
“Wren, wait,” Charlie said.
She brushed her lips over his. “You’re perfect. You’re kind and you’re sweet and you’re smart. You also happen to be insanely handsome. You know that, right?”
“Wren. I’m not …” He pulled away from her.
She didn’t understand. Were they still fighting? She’d messed up last night, which was bad. But he’d messed up at least a little bit, too. They’d both messed up, but just now they’d both accepted each other’s apologies, and that meant everything was okay. Was everything not okay?
“Charlie?”
“It wasn’t Dev,” he said. “Last night—the emergency—it wasn’t Dev. It was Starrla.”
She didn’t get it. “Starrla?”
He nodded. A squirrel scurried up a nearby tree and regarded them. It twitched its tail.
“Starrla,” she repeated. “Hold on. I told you I wanted you. I sent you that picture …”
“I was thrilled you sent it,” Charlie said. “I’m still thrilled.”
“And you went to Starrla?” Wren said. Her thoughts were sticky and confused. “Why?”
“I don’t know,” Charlie said desperately. “Her mom got arrested. She was sad. Scared. She needed me. She needed someone to make her feel … safe.”
“I needed you,” Wren said.
“I know.”
Charlie sat up. Wren sat up, too. The sun was still shining. Birds called out to one another. The squirrel who’d been spying on them jumped to another branch, and the branch bounced, and the squirrel chittered indignantly. On another day, all that would have made Wren smile. Five minutes ago it would have made Wren smile.
Charlie took her hands. She attempted to free them from his grasp, but he held on tightly.
“I guess it’s … an old habit,” he said. “I guess I fell back into it. But I’m done now.”
“What’s an old habit? Running to Starrla?”
Charlie hesitated.
Wren pulled away, this time successfully, and clasped her knees.
“Yes,” he said. “Going to Starrla. But you’re the one I wanted to go to. From now on, you’re the only one I will go to.”
Wren thought of all the other times Charlie had been called away from her: to help Pamela with Dev, to pick up a delivery for Chris, to take a payment directly to the Atlanta utilities billing office because it hadn’t been mailed in time. And then there were the times he’d texted that he was running late, or whatever, but hadn’t been specific about why.
“Wren?” Charlie said. He looked dangerously close to crying.
Wren felt like she was free-falling.
“Wren. Please.”
He was begging, just like he’d begged her last night. And, like last night, a scrim was lowering itself over her, isolating her from the rest of the world. She fought it, but it was strong.
Love isn’t worth it, she thought.
Yes, it is, she argued back. Charlie is.
She swallowed. “Were there other times?”
“Other times? What do you mean?”
“When you ran to Starrla. When you chose her over me.”
Charlie looked stricken.
“Were there?”
A muscle twitched along the line of his jaw. Wren had the sense of being trapped in a maze, and again, she didn’t know how to get out.
“Once,” Charlie confessed. He pressed his lips together. “Twice. Sorry—twice.”
“Oh,” Wren said.
“But I never chose her over you. Please, Wren. You have to believe that.”
“Did you sleep with her?”
“When?” he said, which was a horrible answer. “Since you and I have been together? No, and not for a long time before that.”
Wren hugged her shins. She rested her cheek on her knees and stared at the ravine’s incline, then the trees, then the squirrel she’d spotted jumping from branch to branch. He—if he was a boy squirrel—had found a friend, so now there were two squirrels. On any other day, Wren would have pointed them out to Charlie, who would have smiled and wondered out loud if the squirrels were a couple. Charlie, when he was relaxed, could be adorably goofy, and Wren could imagine him naming two love-drunk squirrels. He’d give them goofy names, too. Jerome for the boy and … hmm. Ginger for the girl. Jerome and Ginger, Wren decided.
“Wren, Starrla doesn’t mean anything to me anymore,” Charlie said.
“Well, clearly she means something,” Wren said.
He tried to meet her eyes. “Wren, I love you. Don’t you know that?”
Maybe, but this was the first time he’d said it out loud.
“I only love yo
u,” Charlie said, spacing out his words. He gazed at her with such intensity that her eyes could no longer keep skittering away.
She felt dizzy.
He’d said he loved her. That was huge.
He’d said it with Starrla hovering between them. That sucked.
A breeze rustled the leaves of the trees, and shadows played across Charlie’s face. The shadows shifted, and a ray of light hit Charlie’s auburn eyes, making them look strikingly, dazzlingly clear.
“Starrla was a mistake from the beginning,” he told her. “She treated me like shit, and I let her. Then last night, when you … when you …”
When she treated him like shit? She wanted to flee, but Charlie held on to her with his eyes.
“At first, when you sent me that text saying you were mad at me, I just wanted to fix things,” he said. “I just wanted to talk to you, because I knew if we talked, we would work everything out. Because we’re us, Wren. You and me.” His eyes stayed locked on hers. “I didn’t think love existed until I met you. I thought it was something people made up. I thought people who believed in love were either lying to me or to themselves. But then you came along …”
Wren held still.
“What I feel when I’m with you is different from anything I’ve ever felt before,” Charlie said with absolute conviction. His eyes welled with tears. “Last night, I could barely function, and when you shut me out …”
Wren wanted to reach out to him, but she was afraid.
“I thought, ‘I can’t. I can’t let her do this to me.’” He blinked. “I knew I’d screwed up, and it killed me, but I also knew that I couldn’t be your doormat. It would be wrong for me and wrong for you if I let you walk all over me.”
The air left Wren’s lungs. She reached for him now out of panic. She gripped his hands, and he was warm and strong, and promises fought to reach the surface. I’ll behave! she thought desperately. I’ll be better, I promise!
The idea of losing him made her realize how much she wanted him, because yes. Love. Charlie and Wren. Their souls colliding. And they were human, and they made mistakes, both of them, but by herself, Wren was alone. With Charlie, she was half of the “us” he talked about, only that didn’t come close to expressing what she knew to be true: that together they didn’t simply become one. They became greater than one.
Something hot and thick clogged her throat.
“But I can’t let you go,” he said. “How could I let you go? I searched my heart”—he shrugged—“and I love you.”
“I love you, too,” she said.
His expression grew almost, but not quite, blank. Not quite, because beneath the blankness, Wren saw a flicker of hope.
“I do,” she told him. “I love you so much, Charlie.”
He pulled her toward him.
“Last night, that wasn’t the real me,” she managed.
“I know.”
“It was the drunk me.”
“I know.”
“It was the drunk me, who was also a very, very sad me, because I missed you so much. And I sent that picture, but you never responded, and I felt dumb. So dumb. But I know that’s no excuse, and I don’t ever want to shut you out or walk all over you, and I am so, so sorry.”
He hugged her fiercely. “I know. And so am I.”
“And I do want to … you know. Have sex. Make love. With you, Charlie.” She pulled back and looked at him. “I want that. Okay?”
“I want that, too,” he said in a low voice.
She tried a smile. “You do?”
“Wren.” His eyes focused on her for a long, charged moment. “I’ve always wanted you. I want you now.”
She laughed, because she was nervous, even though his words made her toes curl. “Well, you can’t have me now.” Her pulse fluttered. “It’ll be a week before I’m safe.”
He furrowed his brow.
“I went on the pill.”
“You did?”
Wren laughed again, still nervous but not as nervous. Also, she was delighted by his stunned-in-a-good-way reaction. “And … you need to be tested.”
“I do?”
She unfolded her legs and perched on her knees. “I don’t want my first time to be with a condom unless we have to,” she whispered. “Just you and me—that’s what I want.”
“Us,” Charlie said.
“Us,” she agreed.
he’d hoped and assumed he would be. With Starrla, he’d always worn condoms, and Pamela had made sure he had the HPV vaccine along with his other vaccinations.
With Wren, he was happy that their first time—which would be her first time, ever—would also be a first for him, and in more ways than one.
He was determined that their evening be perfect. He had some ideas of his own, but he decided to talk to Tessa, too. Tessa was Wren’s best friend, and best friends, when they were girls, talked about things like sex. Charlie had gleaned that much from TV and movies. He knew from experience that guys talked about sex as well, but he had a feeling the content of their conversations was different.
But given Wren’s decision to go on the pill (he still marveled that she’d done that, and for him), he suspected that Wren had told Tessa that she expected her first time to happen soon. Charlie didn’t know Tessa all that well, but he liked her. Most important, they both loved Wren. So who better to ask about girl sorts of things?
Tessa was delighted to help. She was giddy as she answered his questions, clapping her hands and bouncing on her toes. She gave him unsolicited advice as well, instructing him firmly to take charge when things got “steamy.”
“Girls like guys who are strong,” she informed him.
“Okay,” he said. He hadn’t planned on not being strong.
“I’m serious,” Tessa said. “When it comes to sex, a girl wants the guy to take charge. Sometimes, I think, guys try to be too sensitive. And there’s nothing wrong with sensitive! Sensitive is awesome. But hear me out, all right?”
“Sure,” Charlie said. That’s what he was there for, even though when it came to that part of it—the physical part—he had a pretty good idea of how to please Wren already. He loved Wren, and so he’d been a quick study when it came to the mysteries of her body. He paid attention. He knew what made her gasp with pleasure.
“Well, it’s kind of my mom’s theory,” Tessa said. “My mom says that girls are told over and over that they can do anything, be anything, have it all. Right?”
“Okay.”
“And, of course, we can. Women rock, and in reality, we are the stronger sex.”
Charlie rubbed the back of his neck. He reminded himself that he’d chosen to approach Tessa, first of all, and it would be rude to raise his eyebrows. He also reminded himself that Tessa was … Tessa. “Her bark’s bigger than her bite,” Wren had said of her friend. “Not that she bites—or barks! But there’s more to her than what you might see on the surface. She’s actually really smart, and really insightful.”
Charlie cleared his throat and said, “Okay.”
“But my mom also says that in all this girl-power business, a crucial fact has been glossed over. Wanna hear it?”
“Sure.”
Tessa narrowed her eyes. “You don’t sound sure.”
Charlie was startled. “What do you mean?”
Tessa pressed her fingers to her temples, then dropped her hands. “I’m sorry. I might be the teeniest bit overprotective. Of Wren. I just want everything to go well!”
“I do, too.”
Tessa pulled at her hair. “Aggh. I’m lecturing you. I’m sorry. I’m such a spaz.” She opened her mouth, then closed it, then looked at him hopefully. “It’s good, though. It’s a good lecture. Shall I continue?”
Tessa smiled and wrinkled her nose. Charlie shook his head and said, “By all means, continue.”
“Okey-dokey,” she said. “Well … my biggest point, really, is that girls and guys are different.”
“Huh.”
Tessa swatted him.
“I mean it! And maybe what I’m saying doesn’t fit the conventional view of feminism, but I think guys and girls, if they’re straight, should celebrate and enjoy their differences.”
Charlie wasn’t sure how “the conventional view of feminism” came into it, or what “the conventional view of feminism” was.
“It’s just my opinion, but a guy should be a guy, and a girl should be a girl, at least when it comes to doing it,” Tessa said.
“Doing it?”
“Doing sex.” She blanched. “Oh my God, did I just say ‘doing sex’?”
Charlie laughed.
“Okay, I am so done!” Tessa said, laughing as well. “Wow, I’m kind of an idiot, huh?”
“Nah, you’re fine,” Charlie said.
“Am I? Aw, thanks, Charlie. And tonight, with Wren—” She clapped her hand over her mouth. When she moved it, she said, “Oh shit. I wasn’t supposed to know! And maybe it isn’t tonight! Wren kind of thinks it might be, but she did not tell me that, and I totally didn’t tell you that, all right?”
“Tell me what?” he deadpanned. He tried not to show it, but it made him happy that Wren would be guessing and speculating and talking to Tessa about it.
“Right. Right. Just, whenever the time comes, take charge.”
“Got it.”
“Oh!” Tessa cried. “And one more thing.”
“Why am I not surprised?”
“Ha-ha—but I’m serious. This is my girl I’m talking about.”
My girl, Charlie corrected. But maybe Tessa’s girl, too.
No. Tessa’s friend; his girl.
“I know you’re not the kind of guy who gets all glazed-eyes-ish and gropy-hands as things, you know, progress,” Tessa said. “And that is extremely good, because when a guy gets like that, it makes the girl feel like she’s not even there. That she could be just any girl and it wouldn’t matter.”
“Wren will never be ‘any girl,’” Charlie stated.
Tessa blushed, which surprised Charlie. “I know,” she said. “And you know what? I know that you know, and I know that you, Charlie, are a really good guy. I’m glad you and Wren found each other.”
Charlie started to say, “Okay.” He changed it to, “Uh, thanks.”