Page 64 of Check You Out

“Yes.” She takes out her phone and clears her throat. I set a timer on my phone for three minutes. “‘Good evening.’ I’m assuming it’s going to be in the evening. ‘My name is Charlotte Ferguson, and I’m the owner of Sunflower Books. I’m here tonight as a business owner and member of the community to share my feelings on the pending closure of the Summerville Public Library. Primarily, the library should stay open.

“‘Now, you may be asking yourself, ‘If you own a bookstore, aren’t libraries your competition?’” She pauses, for what I assume is dramatic effect over the rhetorical question. “‘That’s a myth. Libraries are not my competition, despite us both being in the business of literature. My chief competitor is Amazon.’”

“Fuck Jeff Bezos,” I blurt out. “Sorry, please continue.”

“Sadly, I can’t say that. As much as I would like to,” she remarks. “Now, where was I? Ah yes, ‘My chief competitors are Amazon and Barnes and Noble. The reality is that local bookstores and libraries have a collaborative relationship.’” She then goes on to explain how the bookstore uses the building space for literary and author events, and how the library assists with the managing of those events. She emphasizes how her bottom line would suffer, like she explained to me before. She also elaborates the many services that are offered by the library.

I watch her as she speaks, leaning against the counter behind me with my arms crossed. My gaze follows her hand as she tucks a strand of hair behind her ear when it falls over her face. I wonder what she feels like in the crook of her neck. If that patch of skin is soft and warm. Will I feel trembles as my fingertips graze along her skin? Will she let out a little gasp, like she did when she kissed me the other night?

Thinking about that kiss makes me want more, and I grip my elbows in hopes that she doesn’t notice the blush creeping up my face or the shift in my inseam.

“‘That’s why the Summerville Public Library must stay open.’” She finishes and looks up at me, smiling. “Well, what do you think?”

“Wonderful speech.” I turn to my phone. “You also finished up about fortyish seconds early. Great job.”

“Oh, good!” she exclaims. “That means I can add some more.”

“Or leave some room just in case there’s some interruption.”

She shakes her head, her waves flowing along with the movement. “I’m going to add in one more point.” She taps away at the screen. “I mean, I’ve got the economic impact of the store closing as a result of the library closing, but is there something else I could add?”

“The economic impact is a pretty strong point,” I remark, leaning forward and resting my hands on the counter. “Politicians are all about creating jobs and keeping the little guy in business.”

“Oooh, I like that. I’m a job provider. I can put that in. Also, the library has employees too! Thanks for that,” she adds.

“You’re welcome.”

“Hmmm.” Charlotte thumbs her phone. She turns to Lloyd and runs a hand over his creamy tan fur. “What do you think, Little Lloyd? Do you think I should add something else?”

“He eats deer poop. I wouldn’t trust his opinion.”

She recoils, grimacing in disgust. “He really eats deer poop?”

I nod. “Unfortunately. Dogs are like that.”

She ruffles his ears and raises the pitch of her voice. “That’s so gross. Why you are so gross, little dog?”

I chuckle. “On that note, dinner is ready.”

We fill our bowls with steaming ramen at the dinette table just off the kitchen. Xander and I rarely use it. Charlotte does most of the talking in between bites, and I sit in quiet silence, listening to her prattle on about her work over the last couple of days. She doesn’t dominate the entire conversation. She asks me questions about my school days. She laughs when I tell her about how I came into my fifth period to find the entire class wearing mustaches like mine and snickering. She giggles when I show her the TikTok I recorded with the teacher next door because our students demanded it.

“I just can’t imagine you doing a TikTok,” she remarks in between slurps of the broth. She gestures to me. “Not that you did a bad job, because you did an excellent job, but like, I just don’t see you, with your personality.”

“The kids wanted it and Mrs. Short was into it.” I shrug. “I can’t say no to Mrs. Short. She took me under her wing when I first started, and I like her a lot. She helped me adjust to being at a different school.”

Her gaze focuses on something on the ceiling. “I love Mrs. Short. She’s been at Summerville forever. Let me see this TikTok again?” I hand her my phone, and she watches the horrible rendition of myself and Mrs. Short stepping through the dance to Taylor Swift’s “Fate of Ophelia”.

A smile creeps up my face as I observe her. I notice all the little details of her face. How she does a little half smirk when she’s amused by the video. How she lets out a mini snort when she sees me almost swinging a fist into my colleague’s stomach. How her eyes sparkle in the light of my kitchen.

Being with Charlotte isn’t just comfortable. I mean, it is, but it’s more than that. Being with her isn’t like wearing your favorite sweatpants and sweatshirt. It’s like climbing into a bed with freshly cleaned sheets. It isn’t just cozy. It’s next level cozy. Every conversation feels like smooth sheets running around my body in a close hug. Every glance feels like that budding warmth you get when you pull the covers up. Every smile feels like that deep, restful sleep that you only get when the sheets are perfect. It’s rejuvenating and invigorating all at the same time.

Now if only I could make this metaphor a reality.

27

Charlotte

“Can I walk you home?” Aidan asks me at the end of the evening after I let out a long, droning yawn.