This is how he shows up almost two hours later, with his arms weighed down by bags and bags of candy. I laugh as I help him through the door.
“Do you really think we're gonna get this many trick-or-treaters?” I ask, starting to unload them into the cheap Halloween bowl that he also picked up.
“Maybe,” he offers with a shrug. “I'm not usually home on Halloween. I don't know what kind of trick-or-treaters we get. If I’m not working, I have friends that will have a party or get bottle service at a club.”
“Well, Benji said we just need to put this door hanger outside and trick-or-treaters should come.” I falter as his words sink in about usually being with his friends. I look up at him, my head tilted toward him. It’s a proximity thing again; I feel like he’s been edging closer to me for weeks. “If you want to go out, you should. You don’t have to stay home with me.”
He hasn’t said it, but there have been nights where I think he’s had plans or had people he was going to see, only to stay in with me. Whenever the subject of friends comes up, he has a close group that he’ll talk about, but when it comes to family, he gets vague, not wanting to go into detail. It’s clear enough from photos around his apartment that he at least sees his mom, and he’s mentioned that she’s still alive, but there doesn’t seem to be much of a relationship. His friends are his tether more than his family, and I understand that in a way I think few people do.
His brown eyes study me for a second. Study if there is anything hidden in my words, and of course there is. There is insecurity and fear and all those ugly emotions hiding. The truth is, I want him to stay with me. I want this to be more than just the hero-damsel dynamic it has been.
“They usually come throughout the whole building. I’ve seen them out and about. But no, I’m not passing on any exciting plans. Jack and his girlfriend are doing some haunted house and I don’t do the gory fear thing.” He touches my arm gently.
“Well, you got enough candy to last us through the next five years of Halloween. If you’re feeling generous, we can just give each kid their own bag.”
“I think that would make us the most popular apartment in the building,” he teases.
Us. I said it first, but he echoed it. Does it mean anything more than just a slip of tongue? Is he thinking about me being in his life next year?
I let my mind wander to what the next year could look like with him. I envision staying with him in his apartment, because with the way he works it’s the only way I would see him at all. My mind drifts of its own accord to how it would look with Charlie sweaty and above me, his body moving against mine, and I have to clench my thighs at the flood of desire. I hope to God that once I’m totally healed, he can maybe see me the same way.
“You can always bring some to the office,” I suggest, clearing my throat. I set the bowl on the island next to the door so it’s an easy grab and carry a smaller bowl to the couch, limping as I go.
“Ashley might kill me if I bring sweets in. She’s got a sweet tooth the size of Russia and will eat the entire bag in a day.”
“You need to do something nice for that girl,” I scold, trying to stow the remaining bags of candy on a shelf.
“What makes you think that I don't take care of her?” Charlie helps me by taking the bags from my hand and sliding them onto the top shelf that I couldn’t quite reach. Proximity, again. His body is near mine, but I can almost feel the strain in his muscles trying to keep from pressing against me, from touching me. I want him to give into the urge. I want him to see what it would be like. I banish the thought, focusing instead on talk of his assistant.
“Well, let's see. You work her super hard, you make her do shit forme, which is obviously above and beyond. And then you act like, I don't know, like she's just available to do anything you need, and she's your personal calendar. You need to do better by her.”
Charlie throws his hands up before preheating the oven and pulling the frozen pizza from the freezer. It’s stupid and arbitrary, but it makes me feel better if we cook in once and a while.
“I got her a Chanel bag for Christmas last year. She loved that! And I put cash in it. I swear, I thought she was going to kiss me.”
Ugly, green jealousy stabs at me at the thought of him kissing Ashley. I don’t know her, I don’t know what she looks like, but how available Charlie is to her makes me envious.
Ugh. Who am I? Jealous of other women in Charlie’s life? I don’t have a claim to him. We’re just roommates, forced together by a weird circumstance, not one that I would change.
“Try like three designer bags. She really saved your ass with me this year.” Another reason that this spike of jealousy makes me feel weird. We haven’t even met and Ashley has bent over backwards researching clothes, like dresses that were perfectly my size, that were easy with a leg cast and a brace. She even occasionally sent little helpful things like ultra moisturizer for my leg since it’s been released from the cast.
“Did she?” he asks, tone light and teasing.
“Yeah, if you think about it, all of the clothes she's gotten for me. You know, I hate to imagine it, you having to go out and get me underwear.”
“Okay, look, let's just stop it there.” He blushes furiously as if he's never had to go out and buy a woman underwear before. Then it occurs to me. Maybe he hasn't. I don't really know what his past is like. I know that there was a woman at some point, but not anymore. I don't know what that means for us. I try not to read into it too closely; the way he blushes at the thought of getting me underwear.
The night is surprisingly slow, not many trick-or-treaters, but Charlie does agree to sit on the couch with me and watch Halloween themed movies, including and especially my favorite,Hocus Pocus, because that is the best Halloween movie that exists.
With each ring of the doorbell, we seem to be getting closer and closer to one another on the couch. I don't know if that's intentional or if it's just because we're trying to get to the bowl of candy that's between us. But I have to imagine it’s intentional when his fingers find my hair, lightly toying with the end of my ponytail.
We stay up later than necessary waiting for those last minute trick-or-treaters, even though we haven't had one since 10pm. We watch movie after movie, never a scary one after I said I was scarred for life by the horror porno’s at my apartment.
It’s late when I feel my body get lifted off the couch, gently rousing me from sleep. I groan, and Charlie goes still, like if he doesn’t move, I’ll fall back asleep. I turn my body closer into him, my hand fisting in his shirt. Part of it is sleep, but a stronger, more awake part of me does it on purpose. It might be the only chance I have to feel this close to him, inhale that masculine scent. He sets me on my bed, surprising me with the brush of his lips on my brow before he slips out of the room, leaving me to drift back to sleep and wonder if this was all a dream.
It’s the little things that Charlie does in the weeks between Halloween and Thanksgiving that start to make the difference between us. Like how he tries to be home earlier, or not work on weekends, saying he wants to make sure I’m getting out of the apartment. As much as we want it to be a daily thing, there is just no way that Charlie can get out of work early every day. We take the victories where we can. I start to crave this time with him. The way his eyes brighten when he comes home and finds me ready to go out. It makes me feel a little bit like a neglected puppy, but if I had a tail, it would definitely be wagging when he gets home.
“Are you doing anything for Thanksgiving?” I ask as we walk. We’re two weeks out from the holiday. Charlie is holding my cane so I can try to push walking on my own. I was doing well until during one of these very walks, I was pushed into a hole in the ground by an errant cyclist.