It doesn’t escape my attention that she’s been talking about this as a dual effort, using ‘we’ when talking about my rehabilitation, and a strange feeling washes over me at the thought of us being a ‘we,’ an ‘us.’ It’s foreign and only slightly familiar, because it’s been so damn long since I’ve ever even entertained the idea of coupling up. I push that thought out of my head. I can see myself being friends with this girl, and that’s how it has to stay. She’s obviously got baggage with the cheating ex, and now that we’re roommates, I definitely don’t want to start anything that’ll complicate things.

“Hello? Anyone in there?” Charlie waves her hand in front of my face, pulling me out of my thoughts.

Shaking my head, I grin up at her. “Sorry, I was just trying to imagine any scenario in which it would be even remotely possible for you to keep up with me.”

“You have no idea what I can and can’t do. The next time you see Kale, feel free to ask him how hard it is for me to ‘keep up’ with the big boys,” she says, causing me to be curious as to what she means. I remember him telling me that she went to our gym. Now I want to call his ass and get the info, but I don’t want her to know I’m even remotely interested.

She settles in on the couch next to me and we watch the television in silence until the pizza man rings the doorbell. Charlie gets up to get it before I can, and this time I let her. She’s headstrong, and I’ve decided just to let her do her thing instead of fighting with her on everything. She’s definitely the type you pick your battles with, and this isn’t one of them. So I decide to back off—at least for now.

Knox

DINNER GOES by quickly as we eat pizza and casually drink wine, not really talking but both watching the television in silence. Once we’re finished, she gets up and takes the plates to the kitchen, along with the extra pizza, claiming that it’ll be the perfect breakfast in the morning. I can’t remember the last time I went out with a chick who ordered more than a salad. Clearly I’ve been picking up the wrong type of women. But then again, that’s all I wanted at the time. Something about just hanging around the living room, eating pizza with Charlie makes all those nights with randoms seem pointless, and I realize I’ve missed being around a chick who isn’t just interested in getting into my bed.

Coming back into the living room, she goes over to my movie collection to see what I have. She pulls out The Departed and holds it up to me. “Is it cool if I put this in?”

Is she fucking kidding me? Not only is that probably my favorite movie in my collection, but it’s kinda hot that she’s not wanting to watch a chick flick.

“Seriously? Do you actually like it or are you just picking that because I don’t have any rom-coms on my shelf?”

Rolling her eyes, she goes about putting the movie in before she rejoins me on the couch. “I love this movie. I mean, come on. It has Mark Wahlberg AND Leo DiCaprio, hot cops, gangs, and the mob. What’s not to love?”

“You’re pretty fucking awesome, you know that?” Shit, that was supposed to be an internal thought, but instead it came out before I could stop it. It’s true though, and the more I get to know Charlie, the more I realize I’m actually beginning to like her.

Turning towards me, she smirks at me. “It only took you a week to figure that out? I guess you’re not as slow as I thought.”

“Hey, my brain was scrambled on the Afghan concrete a couple of months ago. Cut me some slack, sweetheart.”

“And there it is again. I was wondering if we’d be able to make it through one conversation without you calling me that, but I guess not.”

I shrug, not sure what to tell her. “That’s your fault. You’re just so damn sweet that I can’t help it.”

She laughs as she settles into the couch and hits the play button on the remote. It’s weird since she’s practically a stranger, but I feel more comfortable around her than I have around anyone else in a really long time.

About an hour into the movie, I find that I’ve been watching her more than the show, and I can’t help but feel ridiculous jealousy when she comments on how she’d love to be in a Mark/Leo sandwich. It’s irrational, but the part of me that wants her can’t help it, even if I’ve already resolved not to go there.

She must feel the burning on the side of her face from my watching her because she finally turns away from the television to look at me, mistaking my staring for something else.

“What’s up? You all right? Need a pillow for your back or your arm or something? You can just ask me if you need anything. That’s what I’m good for, remember? I refuse to get you a bell to ring whenever you need something, but I don’t mind you asking.”

Shaking my head, I tell her, “No, it’s not that.” And she frowns at me.

“Oh, geez, do I have pizza sauce on my face? I swear, Dad’s been telling me since I was a kid to slow down while eating it, but it’s my favorite and I get a little crazy whenever I have it in front of me,” she says, looking at me sheepishly as she wraps her sleeve around her hand and goes to town trying to wipe off her face.

I know I should tell her that’s not it either, but I’m getting a fucking kick out of watching her, which causes me to chuckle. She stops what she’s doing and her eyes narrow.

“I don’t have sauce on my face, do I?” she asks.

“Nope, but it was pretty damn hilarious watching you try to get it all off,” I tell her, prompting her to scowl at me.

“Well, then why the hell were you staring at me, you creep?” she asks as she turns the TV down a little bit.

“I was just remembering something that Jace told me last night, and I realized that I still don’t know that much about you.”

Her forehead wrinkles as she turns towards me. “What’d he say?”

“He was telling me about how you work at Austin Peay.”

Nodding, she answers me. “Yep, I work as the liaison in the Veterans Affairs office. If you’re looking to get back into school, I’m your girl.”

“Nah, I’m good. I finished up my degree in International Relations when I was in Iraq in 2008 and right now I have no desire to go back to school. Maybe one day. How long have you been working there?”

“Umm, it’s been a little over two years. I like it. It’s how I found out about this volunteering gig, and it’s nice to help out the military in the community, making sure that they’re using their benefits in the most efficient way and all that.”

She’s not looking at me as she’s talking, and I wonder if there’s more to the story. “Have you been in Clarksville since your dad was stationed at Ft. Campbell?”

She shakes her head and takes a long sip of her wine. “No. Dad’s been here for about ten years. Unusual for the Army, but with his surgical position, they haven’t made him relocate too many times. He has gone on several tours overseas, though. Once I graduated high school, I decided to go to UT to be close to him, and then I got a job in Nashville, working at Bell South.”

“So how’d you end up back here? Were you looking to be back in the area?” I’m genuinely curious about how she ended up back here, and this seems like a step in the right direction of getting to know her.

She’s playing with the strings on the sweatpants she changed into earlier. Not looking at me, she answers. “About two years ago, my boyfriend at the time got an academic job at Austin Peay and wanted me to come with him. I lucked out that there was a position open. At the time there was no question about moving here, especially with Dad being so close by.”

I’m wondering if this is the asshole she alluded to during that whole cheating miscommunication thing. “And you’re not dating him now?”

“No. Absolutely not,” she says abruptly. “That’s been over for months.”