Page 5 of Charlie Sunshine (Close Proximity #2)

Aidan smiles. “Even though you’re not much of a one for sharing living space?”

I shrug. “Charlie’s the exception to that.”

“Charlie’s always been your exception,” Sam says. “Right from the first minute you met him.”

I smile. “He’s the same. We look out for each other.” Both men watch me, and I groan. “Don’t do that.”

“Don’t do what?” Aidan asks, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

“Don’t look at me with those heart eyes. Charlie and I are best friends and nothing else, and that’s all we’ll ever be.”

“Okay,” Sam says in a suspiciously obedient voice.

“We are,” I argue. “And if you think we’ll be something more, get that out of your head. I don’t want a relationship with anyone, and Charlie’s already in one.”

“Already in what?” Charlie’s voice comes from the lounge, and he appears barefoot and dressed in his ancient Levi’s and a grey T-shirt proclaiming that he has no shelf-control.

“You’re in a relationship with Harry,” I say.

“ Is it still him? Because I haven’t seen him since you moved in.

Oh, how I live for the time when he stays here, and I can see so much more of him.

As if working with him isn’t bad enough.

” Aidan and Sam look anywhere rather than at Charlie, who is glaring at me.

Seeing the look on his face, I immediately backtrack and say in a penitent voice, “I’m so sorry.

What I meant to say was that I do hope you haven’t dumped him for Jamie. ”

Jamie is a posh boy who follows Charlie around like he’s Brad Pitt covered in strawberry ice cream on a hot day.

Sam shudders. “Oh, him,” he says in a disgusted tone of voice.

“ Dad ,” Charlie chides.

I stare at Sam. “Why that face about Jamie? He’s as likeable as Winnie the Pooh.”

Aidan laughs, and Charlie nudges him. “Jamie said something that offended Dad.”

I look at Sam. “Offended you? What could he possibly say to offend you?” I ask in an amazed voice because Sam gives Charlie a run for his money in the easygoing stakes.

Sam mutters something, and Aidan laughs harder.

Charlie shakes his head, a smile tugging at his wide mouth. “Jamie thought that Enid Blyton wrote ‘Dracula.’”

I start to laugh. And once I’ve started, I can’t stop. “Oh my God,” I gasp, “that’s priceless. The Lord of Darkness having a picnic with fresh tomatoes and lashings of ginger beer,” I say, wiping my eyes. “Did you try to have one of your really long literary conversations with him, Sam?”

“Like the ones that are always wasted on you?” he says with a twitch of his lips.

“Sleep aids are never wasted on me,” I say solemnly.

Sam throws his head back and laughs loudly. “Misha, you have always been and will always be a little shit.”

Aidan nods. “He speaks the truth.”

I look at Charlie. “How is it that you’re hanging around with someone whose idea of reading is looking at the titles of the videos on PornHub?”

“Jamie’s not so bad. I actually met him in a library.”

I think of the sweet upper-class boy. “Was he lost? Had he stopped in for directions?”

Charlie shakes his head, but I can see he’s trying not to laugh. “He’s just not a reader. He has other good qualities.”

“Is one of them excessive vacuousness?” I ask dubiously .

“Enough,” he says firmly. “And don’t start on Harry again either.”

I bite my lip to stop my litany of complaints and watch Charlie put some bread in the toaster. He looks around the kitchen with a puzzled look on his face.

“Misha, where’s your compost box?” he asks in a concerned voice.

I blink. “My what box?”

He turns to face me. “The box for your kitchen waste. It helps with recycling.”

“You look a bit possessed when you use the word recycling, Charlie. Makes me want to cross myself.”

“It’s very important,” he says earnestly. “We have to do our bit for the future of the planet.” He stares at me. “So where is it?”

“In one of the cupboards? Who knows?” I hold up my hands in defence.

“Until you came to live here, I never had any kitchen waste. Not unless you count vodka bottles.” I hesitate.

“Do you count vodka bottles?” I ask hopefully and slump when he slowly shakes his head.

“Damn, I really thought for a second that I’d been an ecowarrior and never realised. ”

He looks at me pityingly. “I’ll ring the council and get some more recycling boxes. We’ll be doing the right thing before you know it.”

“Great,” I say faintly.

He turns back to the toast, probably happily secure in the knowledge that this is only the first in the many lectures he has in store for me.

“I’m going round to Mum’s on Monday night,” I say to him. “Are you coming?”

“It depends. Is she making solyanka soup?”

I grin at his hopeful tone. “Probably.”

“Then I’m definitely coming.” He sneaks a look at me that I’m probably not supposed to see. “Any particular reason for the visit? You don’t normally go round during the week.”

I frown. “She’s called a meeting.”

Aidan grins. “What have they done now?”

I sigh at the thought of my teenage twin sisters. They’re hellions. “I don’t know,” I say grimly. “She’s saving that for when we get there.”

Charlie winces. “Eek! Sounds ominous. ”

“Sounds tiring.”

“It’ll be fine,” he tells me comfortingly.

And even though they’re just words, they’re also Charlie’s words, and so they work. I still do my best to grimace at him. “Easy for you to say, Charlie Sunshine.”

He shakes his head at the nickname that Aidan gave him and Charlie’s friends adopted. “Do you want me to come? If not, I can go round to see Dad and Aidan.”

“No, I want you to come,” I say quickly.

“Why?”

I shrug. “It’s easier.”

He turns back to his toast, and I realise two things. One, I’m staring at his perfectly shaped backside, and, two, Sam and Aidan are watching me do it. Sam has a massive smile on his face, and Aidan’s eyebrow is cocked in that wicked way it has.

I shake my head repressively at them. “Oh, thank you,” I say in surprise when Charlie puts a plate of toast in front of me. “Is that Marmite? You hate Marmite.”

“It tastes like gravy jelly, but you like it for some strange reason.” He squeezes my shoulder. “I’m making Bolognese for dinner. Do you want some?”

I catalogue the blue eyes that are the colour of my favourite pair of jeans, the mouth that’s almost too wide for his face, and all that beautiful hair waving onto his shoulders in shades of butterscotch and toffee. He’s glowing in the sunlit kitchen.

“No,” I say quickly. “I’m out tonight.”

If my usual hook-up partner isn’t around, I’m going on Grindr. Every time I’ve looked at Charlie in the last few days, I get a jolt of awareness, and I need to nip that shit in the bud.

Objectively, I know he’s stunning. Last time we were out at a pub, a bloke walked into the jukebox because he was staring so hard at him.

I’ve become accustomed to Charlie’s looks over the years of being his friend, and I need to carry on with that programme.

I don’t know whether it’s because we’re living together for the first time or that I haven’t had a shag recently, but something’s changed, and I need to put an end to it. Charlie is staying in my friend box.

Later that evening, the constant ring of the doorbell alerts me to the fact that something is different about my flat.

I don’t usually encourage people to come round here, preferring to meet them out.

I’m not sure why. Maybe because this is my quiet oasis that I still treasure even four years after moving out of my mum’s house and leaving the bathroom for the three women to fight over.

I shudder at the thought of those mornings.

Even my old flatmate had been a virtual stranger.

A long-haul flight attendant, he was out of the country more than he was in it.

The bell rings again, and I narrow my eyes.

Who the fuck is here? I’m meeting my Grindr hook-up at a bar, so it’s definitely not someone for me.

I hear laughter and speed up getting dressed, slipping into my skinny black jeans and black T-shirt.

After grabbing my old Clutch Cafe motorcycle jacket, I open the door and am immediately assaulted by the most delicious smell of baking.

“Oh my God,” I groan. “That smells lovely.”

I pad down the hallway and into the lounge and stop dead. On the huge orange sectional sofa—which I’d totally bought to make Charlie happy—are four men. Jesse, Charlie’s old flatmate; Zeb, his boyfriend; my cousin Felix; and Rupert, my friend from work.

“What the fuck are you all doing here?” I ask.

Felix shakes his head. “I think I must have got your share of the family charm. I’m so sorry about that, because you really do need some.”

“So snarky,” I say. “And so in my house. Where you normally aren’t.”

He sniffs. “Well, normally your house is as arid and dry as the fucking Sahara Desert. Now, however, it has Charlie. And cake,” he finishes reverently.

I instantly remember my quest to find the source of the smell. “Oh God, has he baked?” I groan.

Jesse nods enthusiastically. “I’ve missed Charlie so much,” he says. “So, so much. Living with Zeb just isn’t the same.”

“Maybe you should have moved in with Mary Berry then,” his boyfriend says, rolling his eyes .

“Never,” Jesse says robustly. “She doesn’t fill out a pair of jeans like you, Zeb.”

I shake my head and look at Rupert. “And you?” I say helplessly. “Why are you here?”

“ Misha !” Charlie says in a shocked voice. “Oh my God, if tact were an artform you’d be painting with your own bodily waste.”

Felix throws his head back and laughs. “Oh Charlie, I do love you so, and it’s for exactly these tiny moments.”