My kitchen isn’t anything to brag about. To put it bluntly, it’s simple and efficient. I don’t mind, as it’s usually just me cooking for myself. It has a two-burner stove top and a small oven. One countertop is taken up by a glossy, flame red microwave I found in a thrift shop. I found a powder pink coffee maker in the same store. She sits on the shelf above the microwave, waiting for the day I can ask company if they would like a cup, while my plain tea kettle rests on one of the two burners of my stove. A small drop-leaf table sits in an alcove with two random chairs. Most everything I have is mismatched from second-hand stores, but each piece drew my interest and attention and now graces my home.
I open the fridge and wince at how bare the shelves are. I hadn’t planned to be cooking breakfast for anyone. I grab out a partial carton of eggs. Ehh, four left. I glance at Charlie. “What do you like for breakfast? I’ve got some eggs, umm, the heel of a loaf I can toast up with butter and jam, and a bit of ham left from a few nights ago. Omelet maybe?”
He comes to peer over my shoulder at the bare fridge. I catch his grimace. “If you want to wait here, I can run over to the market and grab a few things to make something better. It’ll only take a few minutes.” He shakes his head as he pulls back. “No, omelets are good.”
I grab the eggs, ham, cheese, and an onion. Then I spy a small bowl of broccoli that I pull out as well. I reach for a bowl to scramble the eggs in and realize Charlie isn’t in the kitchen. I peek out into the living room and see him sitting on the couch with my photo in his hands.
I step into the space, “Charlie?”
He looks up at me from it. “You didn’t tell me we had met before.”
I lick my lips nervously, “it was years ago, just the once, only a few moments…” I trail off as he looks back down at the picture.
“I remember the outfit. Seeing it, I remember you. Why did you rip it up?”
“I didn’t.” He raises the patched picture slightly, as if to ask ‘then how did it end up like this?’
I sigh, sitting down next to him. I reach for the photo, taking it gently from his hands. “This photo changed my life. Every rip, every tear, every missing piece of it is a reminder of where I came from and the healing I’ve gone through. It’s a testament to my strength.” I run my fingers along the face of it. “Yes, I had a crush on you. Not Daredevil, but you, the actor. I secretly followed your stories in magazines, watched your movies, even wrote fan mail that I never had the nerve to send. When I went to this convention, and I found out you were there, it was a chance for me to meet someone I admired. It was a once in a lifetime thing.”
“And now? Do you still have a fangirl crush on me? Did you sleep with me because it fulfilled a fantasy?”
“What? How could you… No! It wasn’t like that at all.”
Charlie looks hurt and a little angry. If I’m completely honest with myself, I’m hurt and shocked that he could think that, but then I remember him asking about Tom and Loki. He’s feeling vulnerable and not as certain of himself as most people would think. I set the photo down and put my hand on his arm. “Charlie, I had no idea it was you when we left Ben’s. I meant what I said last night. I didn’t sleep with you because of a crush I kept secret from everyone. I didn’t harbor any lingering fantasies about you. I met you once and that was that. That night, I danced with a stranger and didn’t want the music to end. I felt something when you kissed me, when we kissed. You made me feel safe and cherished, without even knowing who you were. I let my guard down and didn’t consider what it could possibly mean until everything was quiet and my mind started to think. Even then, I didn’t consider our having met before; I didn’t think it had any bearing since it happened so long ago. What I thought of was being seen or photographed outside of Tom’s home and how his fans would accuse me of stalking him. Worse, my ex might see me in pictures and discover where I’ve been hiding. I can’t have him finding me.”
He listens as I speak and his expression changes as he hears my honest plea for understanding. When I pause, he pulls me in for a tight hug, resting his chin on my shoulder. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have accused you.”
I shake my head, “You had no way of knowing. I’m sure you have people throwing themselves at you all the time.”
Releasing me, he smiles, “jealous?”
“Would you think less of me if I am?” I quip, borrowing his line from last night.
He laughs and taps the picture. “Your ex didn’t deserve you. Let me take you out. I’ll keep you safe. You shouldn’t have to live your life in hiding.”
I look down, not sure what to say. Charlie takes both of my hands in his and kneels on the floor in front of me. He ducks his head down to be able to look me in the eyes. His smile is contagious and inspires a bit of confidence in me. I smile back at him and sheepishly nod. “Ok.”
“Good. Any chance of you still having that Electra outfit?” he teases. He stands up, pulling me up with him.
We return to the kitchen to make our small breakfast. We cook in silence, never losing contact with one another, a touch here, a caress there. Once the omelets are ready, we hold hands while we eat and talk about our likes, dislikes, and what we want in life.
Moving back to the living room, we cuddle on the couch talking for hours. We talk about movies and books, music, technology, and careers. Our conversation flows easily from topic to topic.
He was telling me about how he became an actor when, as one, we both stop talking. I turn my face to look up at him just as he looks down, our eyes meeting, “You’re beautiful, Lyra. May I kiss you?” His voice is slightly gruff, conveying a need beyond his words.
My mouth opens on an “oh” and I nod, giving him all the permission he needs to lean in and kiss me.
Slowly, giving me every chance to pull away, he closes the distance between our lips. They meet in a soft, tentative kiss that quickly deepens. I roll so I’m laying on top of him and push myself up to wind my arms around his neck. He pulls me closer, one hand tangling in my hair, the other pressed against the small of my back. When we finally break apart, we’re both breathing heavily. I rest my head on his chest, my eyes closed, and listen to his heartbeat.
