by Ashley John
He had nobody to really talk to. He didn't want to talk to his mother about it, Poppy was too young and Evelyn was too old. He imagined what it would be like if he didn't get the job at the Surf Club. He wondered if he'd worked somewhere else, would he have made different friends and not seen Oliver apart from the odd days he worked on Evelyn's garden.
Deep down, he had a feeling that Oliver would have made sure they'd have bumped into each other at every chance.
Damn you Claudia, why did Oliver have to cancel on you?
He told himself again what they did was normal, but he couldn't shake the look in Oliver's eyes as they did it. It was that look that had pushed him over the edge.
Chapte
r 9
Lying on his bed in the dark, Charlie clutched Aunt Evelyn's telephone and prayed. As he listened to the dial tone, he prayed that Melissa was going to be on the other side to answer.
“I need to talk to you. Pick up.”
The dial tone rang out, and with each beep, Charlie felt more and more deflated. Just as he was about to hang up, a small click on the line told him that someone had answered the phone.
“Hello?” the familiar sweet voice that Charlie wanted to hear answered.
“Melissa! It's me, Charlie!” Charlie beamed.
“Oh. Hi Charlie, how's things?” she asked.
Charlie tried to ignore the disappointment in her voice when she heard his name.
“I've tried calling you but you haven't been answering,” Charlie said, leaning up and slinging his legs around the side of the bed.
“I've been a bit busy.”
“I wanted to talk about us,” Charlie said.
There was a long pause, which only affirmed what Charlie knew already.
“Charlie, listen, you're a nice guy and everything but I can't do this whole long distance thing,” Melissa said.
Staring into the dark, Charlie stopped listening to the rest of her excuses. He didn't need to hear them. Just hearing her voice was enough to tell him what he needed to hear. He knew whatever they had back in Alaska had been left in Alaska when he kissed her goodbye at the train station. They might have promised each other that they were going to try and make it work, but who were they trying to kid?
“It's okay Melissa,” Charlie said quietly, “I understand. Listen, I have to go, it's getting late. Let's stay friends?”
“Sure Charlie!” Melisa said in a voice that Charlie didn’t believe.
Without saying goodbye, Charlie hung up the phone and threw it onto the carpet, leaning back into his firm pillow. Charlie was feeling many things, but they weren't what he was expecting. He'd wanted to talk to Melissa to hear her voice once again, but when he did hear it, it didn't give him the feeling that it used to.
“Was that Melissa?” Poppy's auburn hair bounced over the edge of the bunk bed.
“You're meant to be asleep,” Charlie mumbled.
“Is she coming to visit? I like Melissa,” Poppy beamed as she kicked her feet against her mattress.
“No Poppy, she's not coming to visit,” Charlie smiled.
Charlie admired his sister’s eternal optimism. No matter what they'd been through, she always kept her spirits high.
“Are you sad?” Poppy asked as she climbed down the rickety, metal ladder.
“What makes you think that?” Charlie asked as his sister snuggled into his side.
It was something they used to do whenever things got really tough, but she hadn't snuggled with him since they'd moved to Surf Bay. Poppy was having the time of her life living in the pink princess house.
“I'm happy,” Charlie lied, “I love living here.”
“Good. I do too. I don't want to go,” Poppy said.
“We're staying here. I promise,” Charlie said as he stroked his sister’s soft curls.
As they lay there in the dark, he could hear her breathing slowly, drifting back off to sleep. He tried to think about Melissa, but someone else was invading his thoughts. The harder he tried to push him out, the more he thought about him.
Oliver was inside of his head.
Charlie closed his own eyes and tried to kick Oliver out, but the darkness only acted as a canvas to imagine even more. Oliver's naked body drifted in. He wanted to stop, to stop imagining Oliver's naked body walking towards him through the dark, but he couldn't.
A noise from outside was a welcome distraction, making his eyes pop open, just as the sleep was about to take him. Closing his eyes again, he tried to focus on the sleep, but when the noise happened again, Charlie's eyes open fully this time. He edged around his now fast asleep sister who flopped against the bed. Tiptoeing through the dark towards the window, Charlie's overactive imagination went into over-drive.
Leaning against the ancient television, he stared out into the pitch black of the night and as his eyes were adjusting a tiny stone flew at the window, making him jump back.
“Charlie? Is that you?” a voice whispered through the dark, “It's Oliver.”
Charlie's stomach flipped as he leaned across the desk to swing the old wooden window open. Leaning out into the dark, he could just make out a figure through the blackness under his window.
“What do you want?” Charlie sneered, “It's past 11.”
“Come down,” Oliver shouted up in his best loud whisper.
“I can't,” Charlie shot back, “I'm sleeping.”
“You're talking a lot for someone who is sleeping.”
As he tiptoed across the landing and down the staircase, avoiding the creaky stairs, he told himself that no matter what Oliver wanted, he was going to tell him where to go, but as he did, even he couldn't ignore the excitement that rumbling inside.
***
As Oliver stood in the dark waiting for Charlie to emerge through the backdoor, he found himself feeling nervous, an emotion Oliver wasn't used to.
The door slowly creaked open, and as Charlie emerged from the pink house, Oliver rubbed his palms awkwardly together before stuffing them into his pockets.
“What do you want Oliver? I was asleep,” Charlie moaned, looking out into the dark of the garden.
“Why are you fully dressed then?” Oliver laughed quietly.
“Does it matter,” Charlie snapped, “what do you want?”
“Well I realized you didn't have a cellphone, and I didn't want to knock on the door because I know how Evelyn likes to go to bed when it’s still light outside,” Oliver said, trying to smile, but Charlie wasn't looking at him.
“Right?” Charlie said, starting to sound irritated.
“Well, I wanted to ask you something,” Oliver whispered softly, taking a tiny step towards Charlie.
Charlie folded his arms as if to block him, but Oliver knew it would take more than arms to keep him away.
“Ask me what?”
“Do you fancy going to a party?” Oliver smiled.
“A party? We have work tomorrow,” Charlie snapped.
“Calm down grandma, I was just asking,” Oliver said, holding his palms out and taking a step back, “I guess I'll just leave you alone to your knitting.”
Oliver winked at Charlie and started to head around the side of his house, and started counting to himself.
3...2...
“What kind of party?” Charlie's voice called through the dark.
Oh Charlie boy, you didn't even let me get to 1. Gotcha!
***
Charlie clutched onto Oliver's waist as they whizzed through the dark roads. The silver helmet was squeezing his cheeks together and the wind was stinging his eyes. He didn't even know Oliver rode a motorbike, but when he took him out to the front of Aunt Evelyn's house and it was parked up outside, he nearly regretted following him.
“Where are we going?” Charlie cried, clinging tighter onto Oliver.
Even through his jacket, he could feel his solid stomach firmly against his fingertips. He tried to tell himself he didn't like the feel of it, but he knew he'd by lying.
“My b
rother arrived earlier,” Charlie cried back through the wind, “he's got a pad just out of town.”
The bike slowed down and they pulled up outside a house on a quiet suburban street. It was a grand house that looked like it was made of nothing other than white stone and glass. The bright flashing lights that beamed through the windows and the pounding music that Charlie could feel in his chest told him that the party was already in full swing.
Beer cans and bottles were strewn across the perfectly neat lawn and a couple were pushed up against the front of the house, with the boys hand positioned alarmingly high up the girls skirt.
“I'm not even invited,” Charlie protested, hoping off the bike and yanking the tiny helmet from his head.
“Everyone's invited!” Oliver boasted, “Why do you think the entire street is quiet? The entire neighborhood is inside that house. It's the only way the police don't get called.”
Charlie gulped and glanced up and down the street. The only light was coming from the house in front of him.
“Isn't it rude to go to a party and not bring something?” Charlie asked and Oliver dragged him up the stone path to the grand white front door.
“Unless you have a pound of coke in your back pocket, I don't think you have anything my brother wants,” Oliver said sternly as he pushed the door open.
A wall of sound hit Charlie square in the chest, making his heart flutter. The bass from the pounding music stung his ears and the chattering of the hundreds of people that were crammed in the house, sounded like the inaudible hum of insects in the dead of night.
Oliver clutched Charlie's hand and dragged him through the crowd. The people didn't notice him, but he noticed them as they blurred past his face. He felt as if he was drowning in a sea of people. Usually he'd protest to Oliver holding his hand, but he found himself clutching it as if Oliver was the only safe thing in the house
They pushed their way through the kitchen and out into the back garden. A brightly lit pool full of naked guys and girls sat in the middle of the garden, which was now covered in clothes and vomit.
“Bro! You made it!”
Charlie was nearly taken aback by how much Oliver's brother looked like Oliver. He had the same colored hair with matching eyes, but they weren't as glossy as Oliver's. His skin was tanned, but it looked weathered and his teeth were just as white, but with stains and chips in between them. He looked like Oliver after a decade of partying.
“Connor, this is Charlie!” Oliver shouted over the music, “He’s a friend from work.”
“Oh,” Connor's eyes flickered to Charlie and looked him up and down like he was a piece of meat, a naked piece of meat, “have you brought me a present?”
“He's with me,” Oliver laughed, but Charlie could pick up the defensiveness in his voice, “great party.”
Connor's eyes finished undressing Charlie and then wandered lazily back to Oliver, “thanks bro. This is how they do it in Tokyo, so I thought I'd bring some of the Middle East back for sunny-ol Cali.”
Doesn't he mean the Far East?
They left Connor and headed back into the kitchen to find some drinks, but Charlie couldn't take his eyes off his skin. It was like the way Oliver first looked at him, only more intense.
“Your brother seems...nice,” Charlie lied.
“Don't lie,” Oliver smiled at him over the plastic red cup filled with a strange orange colored drink, “he's a bit of a moron. I don't really see him much.”
“So why come to his party?” Charlie asked.
“I wasn't going to,” Oliver said, “but I wanted an excuse to spend some time with you.”
Before Charlie could find himself protesting, he found himself smiling, which he knew Oliver noticed because he smiled softly back.
“As friends of course,” Oliver said, as he bit the plastic edge of the cup.
“As friends,” Charlie repeated back taking a sip of the strong liquor, “Is your brother gay?”
“No,” Oliver laughed, “he's like me.”
“Bisexual?” Charlie asked.
“I prefer the term 'sexual',” Oliver smiled.
Charlie could feel his pale skin blushing as he sipped the tangy cocktail.
“He's a bit creepy about it,” Charlie said, “even creepier than you.”
Oliver laughed and playfully punched Charlie in the arm. Instinctively, Charlie raised his hand and touched the spot were Oliver had punched him. It felt warm, and not from the impact.
“He's a whore. He's probably slept with most of the world,” Oliver said, his eyes darting down to his drink as if he'd already said too much.
“Like who?” Charlie asked.
“Like my ex,” Oliver said still staring into his cup, “Brent he was called. Connor fucked him behind my back just because he could. It was last year.”
There and then, Charlie saw Oliver's edges soften and he started to understand him more and more. He thought back to when he'd first met him and how he was so full on. It was almost like he was a pale imitation of his own brother.
“Shit,” Charlie said.
“Something like that,” Oliver said, “he moved to Australia last year, so it's all cool now.”
Charlie knew it wasn't 'cool'. He could see the hurt that still lingered in Oliver's eyes after a year. Oliver, the sex pest was slowly starting to melt away and he was being replaced with Oliver, the human.
“This drink is revolting,” Charlie said after taking another sip of it, “what's even in it?”
“Everything,” Oliver laughed, taking a deep gulp of it, “it's going right to my head.”
“Guys!” a voice called across the kitchen, wading his way through the crowd of revelers.
Charlie turned around to see Porter waving at them. Shit, the boss!
“We're screwed,” Charlie whispered to Oliver, which only made Oliver laugh.
“Relax, Porter and Connor went to high school together. They're old friends,” Oliver whispered back as Porter pushed his way through the crowd.
He was wearing a tight surfer t-shirt that made his muscles pop out, and his shaggy blonde hair was stuck to his forehead with sweat.
“How are my two favorite employees?” Porter shouted loudly as he wrapped his arms clumsily around their necks, wedging his way between them.
“We're your only employee’s dickhead,” Oliver cried as he wriggled out from under Porter's arms.
Charlie did the same, and Porter propped himself up against the counter messily. Just from how hard Porter was trying to focus his eyes, Charlie knew that Porter had been partying long before they turned up.
“Charlie's my favorite now anyway,” Porter joked, trying to wink at Charlie, but he ended up closing and opening both of his eyes lazily.
“Where's the other half?” Oliver asked.
Porter screwed up his face, as if the mention of his partner when he was trying to have fun was forbidden.
“The old misery guts? He's at old being a boring old queen.”
Charlie knew that 'misery guts' must have been the police officer boyfriend that Oliver had told him about.
“Bro!” Connor's voice cried over the noise of the party.
He was stood in the patio doorframe waving for his brother to join him. Charlie looked to Oliver, begging him not to leave him with a drunken Porter, but Oliver apologized with his eyes and headed off to join his brother.
“So, Charlie,” Porter said, drunkenly stumbling forwards and slapping his hand heavily down on Charlie's shoulder, “you like Oliver?”
Oh god, please don't go there.
“Yeh, he's cool,” Charlie said casually.
“Not like that,” he attempted to wink again, “because he likes you.”
The emphasis on the word 'like' made Charlie shudder. He didn't know what he felt, other than a mumbling ball of confusion.
“We're just friends,” Charlie smiled politely, taking another swig of the drink wishing that he could be as drunk as Porter to escape his own thoughts.
<
br /> “I knew you didn't like dick,” Porter laughed, screwing up his face, “I told him you didn't like dick but he never listens.”
Porter chuckled to himself, but Charlie wasn't laughing. As he felt the pounding in his chest, he told himself it was the bass heavy music, but he knew it wasn't. As Porter's voice echoed around his head, he told himself that he didn't like dick, but he couldn't stop seeing Oliver's.
“Do you like dick Charlie?” Porter asked, hazily looking into Charlie's eyes.
“Not really,” Charlie said.
I don't even know what I like anymore.
Charlie tried to imagine Melissa in front of him, slowly peeling off her blouse to reveal her soft breasts, but when the t-shirt reached her head, it turned into Oliver and the breasts turned into his chest.
“Good,” Porter said, “because men are complicated. Get yourself a nice girlfriend.”
I had one.
Charlie awkwardly smiled at Porter and sipped his drink. He'd only just met Porter, and even if the alcohol was rushing to his head, he knew he was nowhere near drunk enough to be talking about sex with his new employer.
“He's a good guy,” Porter slurred, slumping against the counter, “he just thinks with his cock.”
On the word cock, Porter clutched his groin which made Charlie shudder. Just as Charlie was wishing the perfect marble tiles would open up and swallow him, Oliver burst out through the crowd.
“Oliver!” Charlie cried a bit too enthusiastically, “Can you show me where the bathroom is?”
As Porter slid down the counter and crumbled into a pile on the floor, he knew that he didn't need to bother saying goodbye to him. He doubted that Porter would even remember their interaction.
Oliver clutched Charlie's hand again and led him back through the crowd and up the glass staircase. Even though there were a few people passed out awkwardly on the steps, Charlie was glad to get away from the crowds downstairs. The music wasn't as loud as it had been, but as Charlie felt Oliver's thumb stroke the back of his hand as he led him towards the bathroom, he felt his heartbeat thumping even louder than before.
