Play It Again, Charlie by R. Cooper Page B

stop, wet his mouth. When he breathed in, even the air was hot, just like it had been then, and he made himself focus on the words and not the way Will wet his lips too. “I did not throw you against the wall.” He hadn't even touched Will, no matter how much his hands had itched to.
    There was only the counter behind him; he had nowhere to go. Will hadn't moved.
    “I know ,” Will commented, pushing out his lower lip to make a sad face, as though he'd wanted Charlie to.
    Charlie could feel Will's sharp inhale against his chest again, the spark in his eyes when Charlie had had him between his arms, the way he'd had to focus to speak. His pulse rushed in his ears.
    “I didn't... hurt you, did I?” he asked the counter, picking up the bag of pasta and shoving it somewhere. He looked back over, frowning harder when he found Will staring at him. “Not like... your friend.”
    “No, Charlie.” His name was different in the kid's smooth voice, like something caught in honey, and then Will gave a short, happy sort of sigh that was honestly only more confusing. “No, you didn't.” Will blinked and then quickly turned on his heel, moving to another bookshelf. “Anyway, I doubt he would have hurt me. I mean, he's a darling the rest of the time.”
    Charlie snorted the moment Will's attention left him. Right. A darling . But there was absolutely no sign in the kid's attitude that he realized how idiotic that was, even though he had to know that a friend under the influence wasn't always the friend he knew.
    “Yeah, sure,” Charlie finally agreed. “Whatever, Miss Golightly.” If the kid was going to act stupid, then he was going to treat him like he was. “This has been... .” He focused on the paper grocery bag, folding it before tucking it under the sink to use later. “Something, but I have things to do.”
    “ Of Human Bondage ?” Will said quickly, moving just out of sight for a moment and forcing Charlie to move to the edge of the dining area to see him. He tossed one arch look over his shoulder as he reached up to grab that book, and even knowing it was an act, Charlie felt himself tensing. His eyes fell on the leather cuff at Will's wrist, as they were probably meant to. “Kinky.”
    Charlie's throat locked. “I'm not... .”
    “Into Bette Davis? I know, a lot of people find her scary at first, but after a while you really start to get into her.”
    The completely reasonable tone was at odds with the wicked light in the kid's eyes, the way his lips were curved up, how he held his breath when Charlie blinked and frowned, replaying the insane words until they made sense. Until he remembered that Bette Davis was in the film version of that novel, until he could finally take his gaze off that wide leather band.
    His face was burning.
    “Smartass,” he muttered, completely mystified when being called a smartass made Will hop in place, since Will had already made it clear that he had a brain under all that hair and glitter.
    For a brief moment Charlie couldn't remember what he'd been planning on doing tonight, that he was in his own kitchen. He had to be dreaming or something, because Charlie knew that beautiful, bright men never followed him home. “You're insane, you know that?”
    The question why was still lingering— why Will was here— and this time his frown was real.
    “Never mind my mental problems.” Will waved a hand, moved a few steps in his direction, then stopped to look around. “Charlie, where's your cat? I see the food and the litter box and the fur, but no cat.”
    Charlie swept a look around and saw his bedroom door pushed open. “Hiding, probably. He's not used to many visit— strangers.”
    “I can't tell you how happy I am to hear that.” That the statement slipped out in barely a whisper didn't make it any less startling. Charlie lifted an eyebrow, watching Will's face for a moment before Will saw him and blinked. He gestured wildly a second later, jumping forward.
    “I hear