Read Online Love? Maybe. by Heather Hepler - Free Book Online

asks.
     
    “Just Charlie,” I say. “He’s coming over.”
     
    “A guy is coming here?” Jillian asks. I nod. Jillian launches from the bed. “I’ve got to get cleaned up.”
     
    Charlie reeks of chlorine, which at the moment is probably the least offensive thing about him. In the few minutes he has been here, he’s eaten half a loaf of bread, an apple, all six of the Peanuttiest truffles I brought him, and most of a block of cheddar. He eats it all standing up, letting the crumbs fall into the kitchen sink. My mother is always after Charlie to eat, telling him he’s too skinny. I’m pretty sure he doesn’t need the encouragement. Charlie reaches into the cabinet over the fridge and pulls out one of the boxes of candy.
    He drops two chocolates in his mouth and is silent for a moment. “Mocha and…” He pauses and tilts his head to one side. “Strawberry.” He grabs two more. “So, I told coach he can either let me anchor or he can take me off theIM roster,” he says. I nod. Jillian and Claire just look at him. Claire seems slightly horrified by him like she always is, but from the way Jillian is looking at him, you’d think Charlie was wearing wings and a halo instead of a pair of ripped sweatpants and an old thermal shirt.
     
    “What did your coach say?” I ask. I still have a few days before my spring practices start up. Unlike Charlie, I am not a natural swimmer. I have to work really hard just to stay on the team.
     
    “He said I could anchor if I swim the thousand.” He grimaces at me, but I can’t tell if it’s from the swimming or from the pickle he’s inhaling.
     
    “Ouch,” I say.
     
    Charlie nods. “Hey, you know what would be even better than candy?” He nods at the half-eaten box of chocolates. “Freshly baked cookies.”
     
    “Dream on,” I say, shaking my head.
     
    “We could make them,” Jillian says. She looks at me with big eyes and nods slightly.
     
    I squint at her. “I guess,” I say and shrug. I start pulling ingredients out of the refrigerator and the pantry.
     
    “I like oatmeal raisin,” Charlie says. He leans against the counter and watches me, smirking.
     
    “You’ll eat what I make and like it,” I say.
     
    “So, Pipe, how many days until your birthday?”
     
    “Sixteen?” I crack an egg against the counter. “Seventeen?”
     
    “Who are you?” Charlie asks. He turns toward Claire andJillian. “What have you done with Piper?” I throw the bits of eggshell in his direction and he ducks, laughing. “This from the girl who used to start the countdown weeks out. She used to tell everyone how many more shopping days until her birthday.”
     
    “That was a long time ago,” I say, stirring the mass of sugar, butter, and eggs in the bowl.
     
    Claire laughs from where she is sitting at the counter. “Piper, you were still doing that in middle school.”
     
    “That was before,” I say.
     
    “What? Before you got cynical?” Charlie asks.
     
    “I’m not cynical,” I say.
     
    “Well, you’re not
not
cynical,” Charlie says.
     
    I frown into the bowl as I stir. It’s more like I just learned not to get my hopes up about anything, but I guess now that I think about it, that sounds pretty cynical.
     
    Jillian perches on one of the bar stools pulled up to the counter and watches. Even though she’s the one who wanted to make cookies, it’s obvious I’m the one who is actually going to do the work. She starts firing all kinds of questions at Charlie. Where does he go to school? What movies does he like? What music does he listen to? He does his best to keep up, but she’s relentless.
     
    “Where’s Stuart?” Charlie asks when Jillian pauses. I make a slicing motion at my throat, but Charlie just looks at me. I shake my head and start spooning mounds of dough on the cookie sheet.
     
    “I don’t know,” Claire says. Her voice cracks a little in the middle, but her face remains placid. Luckily Charlie gets the point and