by Ally Decker
"Okay, then," he said, putting on his jacket when she came out of the bathroom. "Let's go and find your Prince Charming."
"And after dinner, you can go back to yours," she teased, and yeah, she was back to herself now.
He ignored her words, but did look towards Charlie's cabin as they were leaving his. It was dark, so it looked like there was no one inside.
Later, Kevin told himself. Later.
***
The dinner was great, for the most part, if one ignored Nate's growing tension whenever he looked towards the main table. Claire seemed to be touching him at all times, and the rest of the crew did their best to distract him from his mother, but he still drank more and talked less than usual.
Aside from that, it almost felt like one of their outings back in New York, just fancier. The only thing Kevin would change was to have Charlie here with him, getting to know his friends.
Oh, and Sylvia and Greg should be here with them, too.
He glanced towards the main table from time to time, mostly to check on Sylvia, but every time, his gaze drifted to Charlie as well. He never caught him looking back, though, as Charlie seemed to be immersed in a conversation with Theresa Urban for the entire dinner.
Later, Kevin told himself once again.
After they ate, the mingling started, people moving towards the beautifully decorated and lit up dock. The area wasn't all done up for the wedding yet, but it definitely got fancier. A few nights ago, he and Charlie were immersed in darkness out on that dock, not this soft, warm light from the lampoons above their heads.
Kevin moved with his group in that direction as well, trying to discreetly look around for Charlie, but to no avail. After not finding him at the dock, either, he decided to head back to the cabins and see if Charlie was there.
There was barely any light as he moved away from the dock and the main path, but he knew the way by heart now.
When he heard steps behind him, he turned right away, already smiling, hoping it was Charlie.
It wasn't.
Nate paused only about a step away from him, but Kevin still couldn't really see him clearly.
"You okay?" he asked.
"Yeah, I just wanted to talk to you in private for a minute, if that's okay."
Kevin tucked his hands in his pockets. A minute wasn't going to make a big difference at this point. "Sure. What's up?"
"I talked to Sylvia about, you know." Nate made a vague wave with his hand that was even more vague in almost complete darkness. He also sounded like he had a few drinks too many. "Our mother. And how you stepped up."
Kevin shook his head. "Listen, it was nothing. It still isn't. No sense to make a big deal out of it."
"Yes, there is," Nate argued. "I know you think it's not—"
"Because it isn't."
"It is. I get that you like to act like it's all fun and games, and no—"
"Nate, seriously—" Just how drunk was he? Or maybe Kevin was drunk, too? He didn't think so, but he also didn't know why they were having this bizarre conversation. And why Nate was suddenly getting all in his business like this. Did both Urban children need to have their breakdowns over their mother issues with him?
"Listen, all the shit you project, no commitment to anyone, no care in the world, changing boyfriends every…"
Kevin tensed. "What does that have to do with anything?" He glanced behind him because he thought he heard something, but maybe he just really didn't want to be here. Or look at Nate.
"Because it's all a lie, man." Nate sighed, shoulders dropping and voice turning tired instead of tipsy. "You're a good friend, and you care, and I guess I…just wanted to say thanks. Sorry it kind of…got away from me."
"Got away from you, seriously?" Kevin shot back. "Are you kidding? Did you seriously think that throwing all this shit in my face worked as a thank you?"
"No! No, I'm sorry about that. It was…not what I planned to say." Nate shoved his hands in his pockets. "In my defense, you don't make it easy to say thanks to you."
Kevin wanted to point out again that there was nothing to thank him for, but that would just start this whole thing once again. "Noted."
Nate turned back towards where all the party guests were, before glancing back at Kevin. "Okay."
"Okay."
"I'm just gonna go."
Perfect, yes, do that. "Sure. See you tomorrow."
Kevin watched Nate turn and go, and wondered what the hell had just happened. What the hell had Sylvia told him to make him act like this?
Or, Kevin figured, Sylvia had told him the bare bones of what happened, but Nate went into his insanely overprotective mode again, drank more than he should, and here they were.
He decided to let it go, though. It had happened, Nate apologized, and now it was time to move on. All Kevin wanted was to find Charlie and get back to his good mood.
He started towards the cabins again.
CHAPTER TWELVE
Charlie realized he should've gone with Kevin to help with the arriving guests almost the second the man disappeared from view. He didn't even manage to get back to the book he was reading, because the next thing he knew, Tara was sitting down on Kevin's abandoned chair. She stared at him intently as if he was going to read her mind.
"What?" he finally asked, putting his e-reader down on his lap.
"I need you to do my hair."
"What?" he repeated, but glanced up at her hair. She had a sloppy-looking bun that he could bet took a lot of work. Tara didn't do true sloppy. Even on a lazy afternoon at the beach, she was dressed to impress and had her makeup and hair done—nothing so obvious as to drag attention to it, but easy to notice at a closer look. "You look good."
She scrunched up her nose. "I look good for the beach, not for a pre-wedding fancy dinner. Come on, you're not doing anything now, are you? You can help me."
Charlie sometimes regretted the time a few years back when he let it slip that he was pretty good with braids when they'd been left with no hair stylist two hours before the show. Since then, he'd gotten roped into doing Tara's hair quite a few times.
"You're lucky I actually like you, most of the time," he told her and got up from his chair.
She gave him a grin in response and looped her arm through his. "Come on. I want to dazzle some dashing Hollywood man tonight."
She was more than pretty enough to dazzle men without much trying, but it seemed like, for all the bravado, she didn't quite believe it. She had to always try her hardest.
"I'm sure you will," Charlie said, saving his usual speech. It never seemed to work, anyway.
On the way to her cabin, she told him what she had in mind, and he was happy that she at least decided to dazzle everyone with simple elegance, not something overly complicated. It was one thing to know how to braid hair, but she'd once chosen a type that took him over two hours and four failed attempts before one finally came out okay.
Simple French braid, he could do pretty quickly.
When they came in, he saw two dresses hanging over the closet door and whistled. "They're beautiful."
"Thanks. They're my current top choices."
Charlie raised his eyebrows. "Top choices? Didn't you already decide what to wear?"
"Oh, please, I brought more than two." She gestured towards one of her suitcases. Then it registered. One of her suitcases. Of course she brought more than two dresses.
"Well, I think these are amazing. Dark blue for tonight, green for tomorrow?" he guessed. The blue one was sparkling in places and it would look great in the artificial light after dark, and the green one, with its delicate pattern, would work better in daylight.
She nodded as she brought her hair equipment onto the mattress. "Yes. I'm also considering another for after the wedding, but we'll see." She tossed one of the pillows on the ground by the side of the bed and took off her blouse before sitting down in her shorts and bikini top. "Come on, do your thing. And talk to me about your new hot fling, while you work."
"Fine, you can skip the details. But is he a keeper, at least? He looks like a player, but when I see the two of you together, I don't know." She shrugged. "He acts like a keeper."
He looks like a player? Charlie frowned. What did that even mean? Not every hot man on the planet was a player. He felt defensive on Kevin's behalf, but there was also a chance that his crush had blinded him.
It had happened before.
"I hope he's a keeper," he finally said as he brushed Tara's hair. "I'd like to keep him, at least. But we haven't exactly had that conversation yet."
Charlie knew that they should, and soon, because time was running out, but he also didn't want to… Well, he didn't want to risk the next two days with Kevin, if it turned out the conversation didn't go Charlie's way and he was forced to pretend it was okay and smile his way through the wedding.
"Makes sense," Tara said in a quiet voice that made him suddenly more nervous.
He focused on the braid. Worrying about things that might not happen wasn't going to help him one bit.
***
The unease grew, though, when he went back to his cabin to dress for dinner. He was running late, so he expected Kevin to show up any moment, but he didn't. They hadn't exactly made plans who was picking up whom, though, so when Charlie was ready, he went over to Kevin's place.
He wasn't there.
Charlie frowned. Now when he thought about it, they hadn't said anything specific about going to dinner together, but that was pretty obvious to Charlie when they'd parted with a "See you later" and a kiss.
Maybe not so obvious, after all.
He checked the time. Dinner was starting in five minutes, so there was no use standing there and wondering. They would just meet up there.
Only, when Charlie got to the main table, Kevin was nowhere to be found and there was an elderly woman sitting in Charlie's seat, with one next to her open. Sylvia sent him an apologetic look he didn't quite get until he looked around and—Oh.
Kevin was here. At the table with Nate, Claire, and, Charlie guessed, the rest of the fixers team with their dates.
Charlie looked down at the card by his seat, his last valiant attempt at cataloguing it as a mistake of some kind. Maybe they got both relegated to that table— But no. The card said Charlie Amis.
"I switched our places. I hope you don't mind," the elderly woman said, in a tone that quite clearly told him she didn't care if he minded. "I wanted to sit by my future son-in-law."
So that, at least, explained a part of the mystery. The woman was Sylvia's mother.
Greg mouthed at him "Later," and that was enough to finally jolt Charlie into action. He greeted everyone and assured Sylvia's mom he didn't mind. Then he took a seat, right on time for the waiters to start bringing in food.
He'd been hungry before, but now, he'd lost his appetite.
***
Charlie managed to unwind a bit over the course of dinner. From the bits and pieces of the conversation, he learned that Theresa Urban had made a surprise appearance a day early, so he figured there had been probably some last minute changes.
That still didn't explain Kevin's absence right before dinner, though. And coupled with the earlier conversation with Tara and the increasing itch at the back of his mind to make sense of what he and Kevin were doing, it just made for a less than enjoyable evening, to put it mildly.
Not to mention Theresa Urban talked his ear off for the majority of the meal.
Finally, the dinner seemed to be winding down, and Greg stood up and invited people to move towards the dock and the beach, if they wished to. Charlie excused himself to the bathroom, and as he washed his hands, he looked at his reflection. He needed to find Kevin and clear things up. He didn't want to brood all evening over nothing, if that was the case, but he'd also had enough of waiting.
When he got back, he caught sight of Kevin heading towards the cabins and changed course to follow him. A little distance from everybody was what they needed for that conversation, anyway.
His idea of a shortcut landed him closer to the cabins than to Kevin, but since Charlie thought he could hear him approach, he decided to just backtrack towards him. By the time he got close, though, Kevin was talking with someone else. Charlie was too far to see them clearly, but he recognized Nate's voice. He couldn't hear what was said until…
"Listen, it was nothing," he heard Kevin say and it made him pause. "It still isn't. No sense to make a big deal out of it."
Charlie's stomach clenched at that. It was nothing. It still isn't.
But they could be talking about something else, there could be some other explanation than the first thing that came to mind.
"Yes, there is," Nate argued. "I know you think it's not—"
"Because it isn't."
"It is. I get that you like to act like it's all fun and games, and no—"
Charlie took a step back and turned around. He heard enough.
"—no commitment to anyone, no care in the world, changing boyfriends every…"
He couldn't hear anything else, but maybe he should count that as a lucky break.
Because yeah, he'd definitely heard enough.
He rushed towards his cabin, heartbeat racing, and only let out a shaky sigh when the door closed behind him and he could lean against the solid wood.
He slid down to sit on the floor and hid his head in his knees. Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck.
He was trying to tell himself he was overreacting, that an overheard conversation—a part of one, really—wasn't anything he should be taking into consideration and definitely not something that should substitute for a normal, adult conversation with Kevin himself. But his heart wasn't having it, and the rest of him was just…tired.
Yeah, let's go with tired.
Then he heard steps on his porch and held his breath.
Four knocks on the door, and, "Charlie? Are you there?", and a part of him wanted to jump up, open the door, and drag Kevin inside. To make everything right again.
But he stayed put.
Kevin knocked again and Charlie tried to imagine him on the other side of the door. Was he disappointed because he wanted to spend time with Charlie, or because he'd lost his chance for an easy lay before the week was over?
"Damn it, Charlie, where are you?" Kevin's muttered words came through the door, and Charlie almost changed his mind.
Almost.
After a few seconds longer, he could hear Kevin retreating, his steps loud against the squeaky wooden boards.
Charlie sat there, still pressed against the door, for he didn't know how long. Finally, he got up, undressed in the darkness, and crawled under the covers, smashing his face into the pillow that still smelled like Kevin.
Sometime later, he got a text from Greg.
Where are you? K is asking for you.
He stared at the screen, unsure what to do. He could leave it unanswered, but he didn't want to make them worry, either.
Suddenly got a headache from hell. Sleeping it off. Sorry I didn't say I was heading to bed, he finally sent back.
Tell Kevin I'll talk to him tomorrow, he added a second later.
The reply came right away.
Ok. Feel better.
He closed his eyes. His best friend was getting married tomorrow, so no matter what, Charlie needed to be there for him.
With or without Kevin at his side.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Kevin woke up on Saturday way too early, but couldn't go back to sleep. He kept thinking about Charlie. What the hell had happened last night? Was he angry about the dinner? Was that why he hadn't said anything about heading back to the cabin?
A part of him wanted to get up and go for a long run, or a swim, but he was also paranoid now that he would miss Charlie leaving his cabin for breakfast and wouldn't get a chance to talk to him until who-knew-when. The wedding was at four, so both of them could get swept in last minute preparations, and wit
h their luck, they would end up on two opposite ends of the campsite.
No, Kevin decided, tossing his covers off and getting out of bed. He was going to plant himself on Charlie's porch and wait until he either caught Charlie leaving the cabin or heard him moving inside. Whichever came first. Since it was barely past six thirty, he was pretty sure Charlie hadn't made it out of bed yet.
Kevin took a quick shower, got dressed, and grabbed his phone and his laptop before heading for Charlie's cabin. As he situated himself on the porch chair, he ignored his computer and stared at the closed door instead. What the hell happened? Kevin wondered yet again. It seemed like everything was going well until the moment Sylvia had come knocking on his door. Then his life had taken some bizarre turn somewhere along the way, and Kevin felt like he was left behind, with no idea how to go back to things that made sense.
It hadn't been just Charlie, either. Nate had acted weird, too, but at least they'd already managed to clear things up later last night. Nate had looked anywhere but at him when he admitted that his mother showing up threw him out of balance, and then when he realized Sylvia was freaking out, it sent his systems into overdrive.
"I drank too much earlier, and I made an idiot out of myself," he'd told Kevin. "I'm sorry."
"Hey, I get it, okay? Let's forget it."
Because Kevin understood that. They all had people who made them act out.
So, that was the end of it with Nate. Charlie was a different case, though. Kevin couldn't stop thinking about it last night, until finally, he begged off early and went to bed. It hadn't made a lot of difference—he just stared at the ceiling for another hour—but at least he didn't have to answer any questions.
It wasn't just about what Charlie had done, either. What got his brain rolling nonstop was also the issue of how he himself had reacted to Charlie's behavior and his absence. How it hadn't felt right to sit there last night alone at the table with his friends, or later at the beach.
He'd never felt this way before, not even after Dean, the last single man standing in the fixing trio, had gotten together with Marissa. Kevin had never minded being the odd one out when he wasn't seeing anybody—or even when he was, but hadn't invited the guy to go out with his friends.
