Chapter 7

It was just a kiss.

           Yes, I believe with all that is holier than thou that it was only done to show Dalton his place, but I couldn't help but wonder if it meant something...

       Unknowingly, my fingertips reached to touch my lips and I thought, 'Was it?'

       Was it really just a kiss to me? To my best friend, Mike?

           Mike and I spent four years of our lives not making any types of physical love. The only form of touch allowed was the offering and receiving perfunctory kisses and hugs. None of it means a thing; just good old familial affection. But how can one heady lip locking moment have my emotions in a turmoil, or - swallowing a huge lump lodge up on my throat here - have stupid butterflies flutter in my stomach?

       I'm seriously going to burn in fiery pits of hell for this.

           Minutes of silence followed as we walked, heading to the town's diner. Each step I took, I tried so hard not to dwell on it, but my mind was making it harder.

       'Brain, will you just stop with the PowerPoint presentation?!' I angrily thought in my head. 'I get it! It was a son of a bitch of a kiss and good lord, it didn't feel wrong!'

       "Charlie bear? You okay?"

       'Crap,' I thought, startled. I stopped walking then my hand went to my now erratically beating heart, the inner turmoil forgotten, and sent Mike a reproachful look.

       Good grief! For a moment there I thought my heart was going to jump out of my rib cage.

       "Mike, you scared the crap out of me!" I told him, still reeling from the shock. "A little warning would be nice."

           Mike smiled, yet his brown eyes smoldered with concern. "You were thinking pretty intensely there," he informed me. "Something wrong?" And just like a light switch, it dawned on him. "Was it about what I did? If it was, then, I'm really sorry, but that prick was --"

        "Michelangelo," I interjected him, using his full name on purpose. The boy hardly rambled, yet, showing his flustered side is just endearing. "Just breathe. And no, it's not about what happened a while ago, so don't worry about it," I fibbed, hoping he would buy it.

       "Are you sure?" he asked.

       I nodded. "Yeah."

           He looked straight into my eyes, searching for reassurance, and it was unnerving how intense it was. I held in his gaze steely, providing him what he wanted and finally, he resigned with a soft sigh.

       "Okay, but I just want to say I'm sorry."

           It never ceases to amaze me that lying through my teeth comes out naturally now, like an art. It is all thanks to four years of spinning webs of alibis all in the name of dodging my family.

       And it comes in handy with this particular situation, but why do I feel slightly disappointed that he was sorry?

       The mysteries of human emotion I tell you.

       I smiled. "Let's just go to the diner. I'm starving."

       Mike laughed lightly. "Only you, Charlie. Only you," he said then laced our hands together.

       Before I could pay him out with an awesome comeback, my stomach growled like a  lion and I blushed as red as a tomato.

       How embarrassing!

       Mike threw his head back and let out a deep belly laugh. 'Stupid stomach,' I thought with irritation. "Oh lordy, I-I c-can't-- breathe!" he said in between his laughing fit. "That was too adorably funny and cute."

       I slapped his arm with my free hand. "Oh, shush!" I scolded him, blushing profusely. "It's not funny and cute."

       How could this whacked Italian man think a growling stomach is "adorably funny and cute"? What on Earth is he smoking?

       "Yes, it is."

       "No, it's not."

       "Yes, it is."

"No, it's not."

       "Yes, it is."

       "No, it's--" I stopped myself, sensing familiarity with our banter.

           This was how Dalton and I were when we disagreed on things. The heated "Is too" and "Is not" exchange, and here I am, doing the same thing with Mike.

       No matter what I do, no matter how hard I try to bury those fond memories for never to be remembered, simple things such as this come crawling back to you and hits you like a freight train.

       Being home is scaring me.

       Being in a place where everything reminded me of our friendship brought out my old self.

           The girl that put her family first than everything else; the lenient one, the understanding one, and most of all, the selfless one.

           Charlotte Grace, who let go of her happiness and ran away from it all, is slowly creeping back, and I'm frightened for my life.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * *

"For a sexy girl you sure eat like a pig," Mike commented as we went out the diner.

       I rolled my eyes. "As if you are not used to my appetite."

       "Oink! Oink!"

       Not taking offense with his remark, I patted my stomach and let out a disgusting burp.

       "I'm a growing girl you know," I said, grinning at him.

           I know - so unladylike - but I don't care. Eating six pieces of pancakes (they come in stacks of three), hefty serving of bacon, four sausages, eggs and two tall glasses of OJ does that to you.

           Mike made a face. "Seriously, Charlie bear," he said, "your hotness level had plummeted to zero. That was disgusting. That's it - I'm breaking up with you. I don't want a girlfriend who eats and burps like Pumbaa and Timon from Lion King," he threatened playfully, narrowing his eyes for effect.

       "You are one to talk," I said, poking his arm. "You ate like you were deprived of food for a week."

       He rolled his eyes. "I'm a guy and it's a given that we eat a lot." And then, he flicked my forehead.

       "Whatever," I mumbled. "But Pumbaa and Timon eat bugs and worms. Bleah!" I said, repulsed to be compared with them.

       As we continued with our nonsense, we rounded up a corner and out of nowhere, someone barrelled head onto me and I fell on my ass, hard.

       "Ow!" I wailed, slightly disoriented from the collision. "Watch where you're going, meathead!"

       "You should watch where you're going," a deep, throaty voice ground out through gritted teeth.

       Wait a second... could it be? That voice, I knew it from anywhere and I miss that so much. As I looked up to confirm my thoughts, I was right and that caused me to grin widely.

       "Terry?"

        Like lightning, he looked up as well and shock was written all over his handsome face. "Charlie?" he choked out, his familiar green eyes that Dalton and he inherited from their father went wide like an owl. "Is that you, kiddo?"

       I groaned inwardly. After all these years, he still calls me that? I'm a grown woman! I'm not a midget anymore!

           In a flash, both of us stood up, not bothering to pat off the dirt that we had accumulated through the fall and hugged the life out of each other.

       "Why did you disappear on me, kiddo?" Terrence murmured, burying his nose into my hair. "You left without saying goodbye.

       "I'm sorry," I mumbled into the crook of his neck. "God, I missed you so much, Terry."

       "I missed you too."

           Terrence, or Terry as I like to call him, is Dalton's older brother, and the guy who knew first about the secret I harbored years ago. He was a very perceptive person and he caught on quickly, to which he teased the life out of me when Dalton was not around. When I first met him, I thought he was sketchy, but underneath that weirdness is a sweet guy. Terrence was my safety net when I went through all those excruciating times when I turned down his brother for Caroline. He thought I was crazy for letting Dalton go for someone who doesn't deserve him, meaning my little sister.

       I didn't understand why he was pissed off at that time, but with the turmoil I felt back then and my naivety, I passed it as nothing.

       That thought still eludes me, up until now.

       Terrence broke off the hug and held both sides of my face with his large, rough hands tenderly.

       "Don't ever do that to me again, okay?" he said sternly. "If you do, I'm gonna slap you with a big trout."

       I giggled. "Okay, okay. I won't do it again."

       He glared down at me. "I mean it, woman."

           "Geez..." I muttered with an eye roll. I pried his hands off my face and stepped back. "Now let me take a good look at you. I haven't seen you for years."

       With intense scrutiny, Terry did some serious buffing up and he looked bad ass with his leather jacket, tight white v-neck shirt, ripped jeans and black unlaced steel-toed boots. His hair was spiked up now, instead of tousled. He was taller than he was before; around six-foot-two, his once pale skin was now tanned and what threw me off were his eyes. They had this spine-chilling glint into them. His whole demeanor screamed "dangerous" and the only thing I could say was this; The Terry that I once knew, the one I considered my brother, had changed very drastically.

      What on Earth happened to him after I left?

      "Wow, Terry," I said, eyeing him up and down. "Rocking the bad boy image I see."

      He smirked. "You bet your ass, babe."

      I rolled my eyes. God, not only was he bad ass now, but he had grown cocky for his own good. This is definitely not Terrence, at all.

      "Care to introduce me, Charlie bear?"

      Oh...

      OH!

      I completely forgot about Mike!

      Turning around, I sent Mike a sheepish smile and said to him, "Uh, Mike, this is Terrence, Dalton's older brother," and then, I looked back at Terry. "Terry, this is Mike. My boyfriend."

      Terrence raised an eyebrow. "Boyfriend, huh?"

      Mike smiled charmingly, probably trying to get into character with the whole fake dating thing, and extended his hands to him. "I hope you are not a prick like your brother," he said, chuckling a little.

      Terrence was caught off guard with Mike's statement, both of his eyebrows now shooting upward. I nudged Mike on his ribs hard, sending him a glare which he responded with an eye roll. God, he can be so infuriating at times!

      After a few stunned moments, Terry chuckled low and deep and said, "I like you already," he said, grasping for Mike's hand. And just like that, all traces of humor were wiped out and were replaced by a cold, bone chilling glare.

      "Hear this, punk: hurt Charlie and I swear I'm gonna come after you and castrate your balls with my bare hands," Terry threatened.

      Mike just smiled, unfazed with Terry's threat. "I assure you, I am not going to hurt Charlie."

      "I mean it," Terry tried again, though his voice was low and calm, the lethal warning seeping out of it. "I will fuck you up, you'd be begging for your momma."

      I could tell that Mike didn't like being threatened. Even though he is a rich boy, he isn't helpless, nor a wuss. He could take care of himself, but now, radiated menace and directed at Terry.

      "I appreciate the kind words, but I assure you, I won't screw this up. I love Charlie and even if it means costing an arm and a leg just to make her happy, I'd do it."

      I know that Mike was just getting into character as a fake boyfriend, but did he have to put conviction into his words that much?

      He was just so convincing that I actually believed him.

      With a satisfied nod, Terry let go of Mike's hand. "That's good to know then." Then averted his gaze to me. "Where are you guys heading?"

      "I'm showing Mike around town and then head on home," I said, smiling. "Want to come with us? Dalton and Caroline are at my house, 'planning,'" I said doing air quotes on the last word. "So, want to come with us?"

      Terry's face hardened all of sudden, but in his eye was a sense of uncertainty in them.

      "I haven't been home for a while, so..." he paused, dragging out the last word. "... I'll pass."

      I frowned. "Why? Did something happen?"

      He shook his head. "I don't want to talk about it." He stepped forward and hugged me again tightly. "It was nice to see you again, kiddo. I'll see you soon." And with that, he turned around and left.

      As I watched Terry walk away, I couldn't help but feel something happened right after I left.