saying the name out loud made Will melt off the counter like butter on hot toast. Suddenly Will was directly in front of him.
Charlie had time to blink, and then the tinkling started in again.
“Your phone is ringing.” That earned him another startled look, but Will ignored the text this time and switched on a smile. To get away, Charlie would have had to sit in one of the chairs. He stepped to the side. Will stuck out his lower lip.
“So what did you have planned for tonight, Charlie?” The question, echoed by the sound of Will's phone receiving another message, made Charlie glance back over, then look away.
“This might come as a shock to you, Miss Golightly, but there's such a thing as personal business,” he answered after a pause, moving carefully around Will to get to the cabinet to take out the bag of pasta. “Which means it's none of yours.”
“Do you always talk that way?” Will was watching him. Charlie picked up the pasta, moved it to the stove without opening the bag, and looked up.
“What way?” He stopped. His voice had gone rough.
“I feel like I'm seventeen and getting arrested all over again.” Will probably thought the way he let that drop was charming and mysterious.
Charlie looked back at him without blinking, had a strange urge to smile when the silence dragged on and Will finally gave a small, uncomfortable wriggle. He liked Will being the one off guard for once. He wasn't going to ask, not when Will clearly wanted him to, when all he'd wanted to do was come home, eat some dinner, and do some work in peace.
That was what he wanted. But he frowned when Will's phone went from tinkling to playing a song about putting on his Sunday clothes and he yanked it up to answer it.
“Sorry,” he murmured at Charlie, and then he squinted his face into something irritated and distracted that made Charlie stop what he was doing. He was staring by the time Will started to speak and got cut off, the urge to smile only getting stronger, because for the moment Will wasn't trying to be anything but frustrated. Even that managed to be somehow charming.
“Hey, B— No I didn't. Oh really?” Will lifted his eyebrows and then let out a small laugh that he turned back to share with Charlie. Whatever was being said on the other end made Will laugh again and lower his voice. “You naughty thing. I'm working on it.”
Charlie bent down, grabbed a pot, and moved to the sink to fill it with water. He did not set it down hard onto the stove. Will laughed again, let his rich voice fall another octave into something private. “No, I can't, Boo, I'm busy. I'm with someone.”
Charlie's ears were probably red. He actually ground his teeth when Will laughed again, as though it was all hilarious.
“Hey, listen, do you still have those things you sent me? Well, how am I supposed to? No, I don't want them... exactly. I just... I should go. I always say that, yeah yeah yeah. I avoid everything serious, blah blah.”
Charlie could imagine the eye roll without seeing it, almost smiled again at the person on the other end of the conversation calling Will on something , whatever it was. “Can we have this talk later? Like when I'm eighty?” Charlie sprinkled some salt into the pot of water, caught part of the fond smile that went with that. Then Will returned to what seemed to be his normal setting. “Bitch. I love you too. Okay. Bye, Boo.”
“Apparently I need to get spanked on a regular basis,” he announced the moment his phone was back in his pocket. Charlie sucked in a breath and turned on his heel to get a beer from the fridge. With Will so close, so obviously excited about it, he couldn't help picturing a flat hand on bare skin, his hand, on Will's lightly tanned, possibly freckled, skin.
Despite being in the refrigerator for well over a week, the beer didn't seem close to cold enough to keep him from burning up.
He paused before closing the door and wondered if he ought to offer Will one, then
Charlie had time to blink, and then the tinkling started in again.
“Your phone is ringing.” That earned him another startled look, but Will ignored the text this time and switched on a smile. To get away, Charlie would have had to sit in one of the chairs. He stepped to the side. Will stuck out his lower lip.
“So what did you have planned for tonight, Charlie?” The question, echoed by the sound of Will's phone receiving another message, made Charlie glance back over, then look away.
“This might come as a shock to you, Miss Golightly, but there's such a thing as personal business,” he answered after a pause, moving carefully around Will to get to the cabinet to take out the bag of pasta. “Which means it's none of yours.”
“Do you always talk that way?” Will was watching him. Charlie picked up the pasta, moved it to the stove without opening the bag, and looked up.
“What way?” He stopped. His voice had gone rough.
“I feel like I'm seventeen and getting arrested all over again.” Will probably thought the way he let that drop was charming and mysterious.
Charlie looked back at him without blinking, had a strange urge to smile when the silence dragged on and Will finally gave a small, uncomfortable wriggle. He liked Will being the one off guard for once. He wasn't going to ask, not when Will clearly wanted him to, when all he'd wanted to do was come home, eat some dinner, and do some work in peace.
That was what he wanted. But he frowned when Will's phone went from tinkling to playing a song about putting on his Sunday clothes and he yanked it up to answer it.
“Sorry,” he murmured at Charlie, and then he squinted his face into something irritated and distracted that made Charlie stop what he was doing. He was staring by the time Will started to speak and got cut off, the urge to smile only getting stronger, because for the moment Will wasn't trying to be anything but frustrated. Even that managed to be somehow charming.
“Hey, B— No I didn't. Oh really?” Will lifted his eyebrows and then let out a small laugh that he turned back to share with Charlie. Whatever was being said on the other end made Will laugh again and lower his voice. “You naughty thing. I'm working on it.”
Charlie bent down, grabbed a pot, and moved to the sink to fill it with water. He did not set it down hard onto the stove. Will laughed again, let his rich voice fall another octave into something private. “No, I can't, Boo, I'm busy. I'm with someone.”
Charlie's ears were probably red. He actually ground his teeth when Will laughed again, as though it was all hilarious.
“Hey, listen, do you still have those things you sent me? Well, how am I supposed to? No, I don't want them... exactly. I just... I should go. I always say that, yeah yeah yeah. I avoid everything serious, blah blah.”
Charlie could imagine the eye roll without seeing it, almost smiled again at the person on the other end of the conversation calling Will on something , whatever it was. “Can we have this talk later? Like when I'm eighty?” Charlie sprinkled some salt into the pot of water, caught part of the fond smile that went with that. Then Will returned to what seemed to be his normal setting. “Bitch. I love you too. Okay. Bye, Boo.”
“Apparently I need to get spanked on a regular basis,” he announced the moment his phone was back in his pocket. Charlie sucked in a breath and turned on his heel to get a beer from the fridge. With Will so close, so obviously excited about it, he couldn't help picturing a flat hand on bare skin, his hand, on Will's lightly tanned, possibly freckled, skin.
Despite being in the refrigerator for well over a week, the beer didn't seem close to cold enough to keep him from burning up.
He paused before closing the door and wondered if he ought to offer Will one, then
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