Midnight Sun(17)

Before I can say I invited him, Garver throws the door open. He welcomes Charlie, pats him on the back like an old pal, and ushers him inside.

Charlie looks right past him and our eyes meet. Whoosh. We’re totally locked into each other. Nothing else seems to matter. Everyone else ceases to exist.

“Wow,” he whispers. “Hi.”

Something about the look on his face makes me think Morgan deserves a huge tip for my makeover. She’s nudging me with an elbow and grinning at us grinning at each other. I know what she means. It’s hard to miss how much we’re vibing.

“Hi,” I say back.

Staring at Charlie is like staring right into the sun—and we all know how dangerous that would be for me—so I have to pry myself away. I glance into the kitchen where Mr. Spock Eyebrows has decided it’s a great idea to bring a rolling pin down on the keg. Of course, it bounces off the barrel—that thing must be made of, like, titanium—and hits him right in the face. And still there is no beer. Bruises probably, but no beer.

I’m momentarily grateful this isn’t some huge rager where I’d also have to contend with talking to people who actually know how to tap a keg and don’t serve sundaes and chili as party food. Safe, tame, and parent friendly is about all I can handle at this particular moment.

Next, the guys get a mallet, some sort of spike, and a roll of duct tape. They line up the random items on the counter like surgical instruments. I sigh. It’s going to be a while.

“Maybe we should go sit on the porch while these guys figure that thing out?” I suggest.

Charlie follows me outside and sits down next to me on the swinging bench, and we float gently back and forth. I’m staring up at the sky. He’s staring at me.

“You look amazing,” he says.

“It’s all Morgan,” I tell him with a wave of my hand, trying to shoo away the compliment and all the embarrassing blushing that accompanies it.

He shakes his head. “Nope.”

I’m about to protest again when Garver bursts onto the porch. He’s holding two bowls of chili. I don’t want to hurt his feelings, but I also don’t want to have chili breath around Charlie.

“For you, good sir,” Garver says, handing one to each of us. “And for you, mademoiselle.”

“Oh, thank you so much, but I can’t. I’m… allergic,” I tell him.

“I’m allergic to your dead cat, but that doesn’t stop me from hanging out with you, right? Try it, you’ll like it,” Charlie says with a wink.

He takes a bite, swallows, and gives Garver a thumbs-up. “Top shelf, buddy.”

Garver tries again to hand off the bowl to me, but I put my hands up. “No. Thanks. Really.”

“You sure?” he asks.

I nod, so he starts chowing it down instead. Charlie makes a face, leans over, and whispers, “Wise decision. It tastes like ass.”

I’m still giggling at Charlie’s assessment when Morgan walks outside. Garver stops midgobble to stare at her. A blob of beef teeters precariously on his chin.

“I really thought we’d have a bigger turnout,” Garver comments. “But more beer and chili for us, right?”

One of Garver’s friends sticks his head out the front door and says, “I told you not to go up against a cheerleader!”

“What cheerleader?” Morgan asks.

“The mean blonde one with the big Cadillac,” Garver says through a mouthful of food.

“Zoe Carmichael?” Morgan yelps.

Thank God we’re here and not there, I think.

“Yeah. Zoe.” Garver nods. “She’s also having a party. Must have dinged our turnout.”

“Should we just go there?” Charlie suggests.

Adrenaline shoots through my body. There’s no chance I’m going to Zoe’s party. But there’s also no chance I’m not going if that’s where Charlie’s headed. What a conundrum.

Garver’s shoulders slump. Anyone can see how important it is for him to impress Morgan. Which he’s not, but at least he’s trying. If we all leave, it’s not even a possibility anymore. “Whoa. You’re gonna bail on me, brah?”

“Nobody’s bailing. I just thought we could move this whole scene over to her house.” Charlie looks over at me to gauge my reaction.

I avoid his stare and look at Morgan like What am I supposed to do now? She looks at me and shakes her head. I look back at Charlie and shake mine.

“You know how I told you my dad is superstrict? Well, I can’t go anywhere but where I said I’d be or I’ll be grounded for the entire summer.”

“Couldn’t you just, like, text him and say your plans changed?” Charlie asks.

I shrug. “That’s not how it works with my dad. Like I told you, he’s pretty overprotective.”

“Let me drive you home and we can explain it to him together,” he offers.

More emphatic head shaking from me. My dad doesn’t even know Charlie exists. The last thing I want to do is have to explain who he is, how we met, and that now we want to hit a rager together.

“Okay then, staying here it is,” Charlie says, and he doesn’t even seem mad about it.



After a half an hour, the keg is still untapped, the chili’s been eaten, and we’ve all demolished sundaes from Garver’s elaborate sundae bar. Charlie and I are left staring at each other, the conversation petering down to nothing. I am desperate not to let my first real date with him be my last one. And if this night gets any sleepier, I’m pretty sure that’s a distinct possibility.