He squats down next to me, his hands buried in the front of his hoodie, and his hat low over his face. I laugh lightly and look away as I lie back down.
“What’s funny,” he says, sitting down completely now and pulling his knees in.
“You, you’re funny,” I say, biting my lip with a half smile, a little worried about offending him with what I’m going to say next. “You were so out of your element in that suit. How long did it take you to run upstairs and change, like two minutes?”
“Thirty seconds,” he says, stretching his legs out and laying down next to me. My fingers tingle on instinct, but I don’t reach for him. “Seriously, I actually jogged across the driveway and up the stairs so I could change.”
We’re both laughing, and when we stop, the silence feels thick, like we both have so much to say, but too much in the way.
“So, it went well?” I ask, already knowing it did, but wanting to hear Cody’s version of the day.
He smiles at me, leaning his head to the side to face me, then bites at his cheek before finally speaking. “Yeah. Somehow, I think it went well,” he says.
“Come on, you have to have faith,” I say, and Cody laughs. I push at him with my hand, his arm hard and warm under the softness of his sweatshirt. “What? There’s nothing wrong with being an optimist.”
He pushes back, and I think he’s mocking me at first, but he leaves his hand slightly on my arm. “You’re right, you’re right. I’ve just…well, let’s just say I’ve gotten used to Jim shitting all over me and my dreams; I might be a little jaded.”
I nod in understanding, but all I can think about is how close Cody’s hand is to mine, how we’re barely touching. And then he leans into me again, for the briefest moment—my body tremors.
“Your desk…” Cody says. He doesn’t know how to finish, and I don’t know how to begin. My eyes tear at just the mention of it.
“He was trying to be nice,” I say, swallowing hard on my emotions.
“Yeah, I know,” Cody says, finally giving in and reaching for my fingers now. At the slightest touch, I grasp for him, my hand hungry for his, and he holds it tightly, reassuring me. “Thing is, though, as much as I don’t do suits, neither do you, Charlie. And Trevor? He’s all suits, and ties, and…modern furniture.”
I close my eyes from the bright sun. I’ve told myself everything Cody is saying. But no matter what my heart wants, my head has me stuck. I feel responsible—loyal. “So, Trevor wants to go out tomorrow night, all of us, and celebrate your deal,” I say, trying to change the subject.
“Oooooooh, where we going?” her voice is like a phone-sex line, and it’s so f**king disruptive, I actually jar my neck when I sit up with Cody to look at her. He’s on his feet in seconds, dusting off his jeans and moving toward Kyla.
“Sorry, I thought you’d be a while. I was just catching up with Charlie,” he says, almost like he feels guilty at getting caught with me—like he has something to hide.
Kyla holds up her schedule, I’m pretty sure just to brag about her fancy itinerary, and smiles. I take satisfaction in the smudge of lipstick on her teeth, until Cody notices it too, and actually reaches up and helps her find it. She proceeds to suck on his finger, and the entire scene has my stomach turning. I lay back and put my arm over my forehead.
“But I heard you say we’re going out tomorrow? Where? You know I don’t get done with my shoot until seven or eight,” she says, making our celebration for Cody all about her.
I’m so disgusted by her, that I can’t keep my silence. “Oh, well, I’m sure we’ll be able to work around your schedule. We wouldn’t want to celebrate Cody without you,” I say, logging away my mental notes to tell Jessie later.
“Oh, good. Thank you,” she says, and even though I’m still not looking at her, I can sense the bitchiness in her tone.
“Alright, well, just let me know the plans, Charlie. We’ll be there,” Cody says, and I can hear them walking off. I know he’s trying to separate us because I made it awkward. But right now, I don’t give a f**k. I came out here to be alone, to talk to Mac, and to cry over losing the only material thing left in my world that’s really anything like me. And if fake-tits and cherry-lips is offended, she can kiss my ass.
“Ta ta,” I say, almost enjoying my rare bout of swagger.
I’m so angry that I spend the next 30 minutes talking to Mac in my head about Cody and Kyla, mostly Kyla. Even though my blood is boiling and my pulse is shot through the roof, I’m thankful that I’m not feeling sad—at least for the time being. I know as soon as I go back to my bedroom and see the metal desk sitting where my dad’s used to, I’m going to feel like I’ve been sucker-punched all over again.