27. Charlie

CHAPTER 27

Charlie

I never dreamed I'd see the day where Nix was sitting across from me at the small diner in town, his hair perfectly quaffed and his shirt buttoned all the way to the collar. He sat stiff and poised, like he was trying to be on his best behavior. All I could do was giggle at his formality and fidget with the opal arrowhead around my neck. We'd known each other our entire lives and now, just because we were on a date, he was acting weird.

It was also the first time I'd been inside a restaurant in years. Although we'd chosen a quiet time to go, there were still a few tables occupied. It created enough chatter that I found myself feeling somewhat trapped. My hands were shaky and my heart rate was elevated, but I focused on keeping my breathing steady. And staring at the handsome scruffy face sitting across from me was definitely helping to keep me distracted.

"I haven't been here since we were kids," I said at last, breaking the silence we'd been sitting in since we arrived. "It's smaller than I remember. "

"I think we just might be bigger," Nix chuckled nervously. He reached up, pulling at his collar. "Is it hot in here or is it just me?"

"Here," I said, leaning across the table. I reached out, slipping my fingers under the collar of his shirt and popping not one or two, but three buttons. "That should help."

Nix blushed a deep red, glancing down at his shirt. "Th-Thanks."

"You can relax," I added, taking my shaky hands back. "I'm nervous enough for the both of us."

Nix reached out, grabbing my hands and holding them on the surface of the table. "I'm right here, okay? If you need to leave, just tell me. I won't be upset."

"I think I'm okay for now." I patted the breast pocket of my flannel that I'd worn despite it being over ninety degrees outside. "I brought one of my ‘ oh shit ' pills just in case things go sideways."

"Do you use those a lot?"

I shook my head. "They're really addictive, so it's for emergencies only. I think I've taken maybe a dozen in the past few years. It has to be really bad."

"Like that night we ran into each other at the creek?"

"Y-Yeah," I said, scratching the back of my head nervously. "Sorry about that. You shouldn't have had to deal with that."

"Charlie," he said sternly, squeezing my hands reassuringly. "I want to deal with you. I wouldn't have come back if I didn't."

"I just don't want to be a burden."

"You could never be a burden to me."

I smiled because I knew he meant it. But I couldn't help feeling like it was a naive gesture. He didn't know how bad things could get or how long they could go on. Sometimes a depressive state hit me and it lasted for months. Other times I might have low-grade panic attacks for days on end while I slowly became intolerable. I couldn't help feeling like I was lying to him by not laying everything out on the table right then and there. Would he want to stay once he found out how utterly broken my brain was?

"Charlie," Nix said, reaching out and brushing my cheek with his thumb. "Come back to me."

His touch broke the chokehold my brain had over me and I shook my head. "S-Sorry."

"It's okay. Just try not to overthink it. I've wanted to be here with you for a long time and I like you regardless of your condition. That's all there is to it."

Those words filled my chest with warmth and affection. I leaned closer, wanting to kiss him. But just then I heard a voice from the past, calling out over the din.

"Well, well. If it isn't the fairies from high school all grown up."

We both looked up to see Jordan Peterson strolling towards us from the other side of the diner. Except, it wasn't the Jordan I remembered. In high school he'd been fit, confident, well groomed, and handsome even though I hated to admit it. But the man that staggered toward us now was unkempt, unshaved, his hair was a mess, and he had a potbelly. When he reached our table and the stench of cheap beer washed over us, I realized why. However, as I scowled up at him, I saw that same cruel glint in his eye that had always been there. He might not look much like the Jordan I used to know, but it was definitely him.

"What the hell do you want?" Nix growled, keeping one hand tight around mine. "Fuck off, Jordan."

"Woah! No need to be so hostile there, friend!" he slurred. "I just wanted to say hello!"

"Hi. Now get lost."

"But I just wanted to chat," he grinned, his hands trying to smooth out his stained and wrinkled t-shirt. "Can't you give an old friend a couple minutes?"

"We are not friends," Nix snarled.

"Oh come on! You're not still mad about high school bullshit, are you?" He looked at me for support, but I just continued staring daggers at him. "All that stuff was just a joke, anyway. Where's your sense of humor?"

I couldn't tell if his slurring was getting better, or I was just getting used to it. Being drunk at three in the afternoon on a weekday seemed like a weird choice, but this was Jordan after all. I've heard he'd gotten himself married and had a couple kids. I wondered where his wife was and why he wasn't at his cushy office job in the next town over that he liked to brag about to anyone that would listen. I also noticed a pale patch of skin around his ring finger where a wedding band should have been. Seemed like the star football player of Creekside wasn't such a catch after all.

"It's not funny that you're a dickhead," Nix shot back. "Now piss off or I'll have you kicked out."

Jordan's entire demeanor shifted in an instant. "You know, you queers need to learn to show a bit of respect. It's no wonder everyone hates you. You're mean as shit."

"Great. Thanks for the tip. Now go away. We're busy."

Jordan scoffed. "Busy being a couple of fags."

Nix was on his feet in an instant, his fist already full of Jordan's collar.

"Don't you say that fucking word again or I'll–"

"Go ahead," Jordan grinned. "Hit me. Do your worst. You know I deserve it."

Those last few words brought me to my feet. My heart was pounding, but this time, it wasn't because I was scared or anxious. Jordan was up to something, and I had the sudden feeling that Nix was in danger.

"Phoenix," I said, placing my hand on his forearm. "Let him go."

He stared at me, flames burning in those green eyes of his. I could tell he wanted to beat Jordan into the dust. Hell, I wanted him to do that. But something wasn't right.

"Please, Phoenix."

Without a word, he let go of Jordan's collar, a shuddering breath leaving his body.

"What's going on here?"

All three of us turned, the diner owner standing only a few feet away with his hands on his hips, his brows furrowed.

"This drunk asshole is harassing us," Nix said, pointing at Jordan.

And Jordan, being of little intelligence, didn't try to defend himself or even pretend to be sober. Instead, he looked the manager square in the eye and said, "I can't believe you let these fags in your restaurant. They're gonna infect all the food. Are you letting all your customers know that you're letting all these diseased queers eat here?"

The coiled up anger in the pit of my stomach suddenly sprang free and my body reacted of its own accord. It was as if I were watching a movie as my hand shot out and grabbed Jordan by his greasy hair. With one swift movement I brought his head down, smashing his face against the table. Being drunk, he didn't have the reflexes or the coordination to stop me. He let out a grunt as he struck the wood, then crumpled to the floor in a heap. I stared at him for a moment, watching the blood trickle out of his nose. His chest rose and fell rhythmically as he lay there, completely unconscious, another one of his teeth lying on the floor beside him.

"Looks like he tripped," I said calmly as everyone else in the diner turned our direction.

I lifted my gaze to the owner who stared back at me with wide eyes. Nix was standing beside me, his jaw hanging open in shock. There was a beat of silence before the owner finally found his words again.

"I suppose that's what happens when you get shit-faced in the middle of the afternoon," he replied, a grin curling up at the corners of his mouth. "I'll call the police to come get him. Why don't you two get out of here?"

"Right," Nix stammered, taking my hand.

"Next time you come in," the owner added. "It's on us. Sorry for the trouble."

"The pleasure was all mine," I replied before I let Nix drag me out of the restaurant.

"You knocked another one of his teeth out," he hissed the moment we were outside. "What the hell Charlie?"

"He had it coming," I shrugged. "Clearly he needed to learn that lesson again."

"You can't just go hitting people!"

"I didn't," I said, feeling calm and collected. "He tripped."

Nix gave me a look of exasperation that only managed to make me laugh. "You're lucky the owner was good about all that," he added. "That could've been a big fucking mess. "

I pointed up at the main window of the diner. Nix followed my line of sight until his gaze landed on a full-sized progressive pride flag hanging in the window.

"I figured I'd be fine."

At last, his panic seemed to ebb, and he stepped close to me, wrapping his arms around my waist.

"You know," he smiled. "As much as you shouldn't have done that… it was really hot."

"Oh?" I grinned back. "Does me beating up bullies turn you on?"

Nix's cheeks turned bright pink, but he nodded anyway. "Y-Yeah." Then he added quickly, "But only if it doesn't bother you."

I grabbed the back of his neck, pulling him in for a long, passionate kiss. When I finally let him go, his lips were red and he was out of breath.

"I have anxiety, Nix," I said, still holding him tightly. "I'm not dead."

"I didn't w-want to p-pressure you…"

I kissed him again, this time with more aggression to drive my point home. My arm wrapped around his waist pulled him close, our bodies pressed together. It wasn't difficult to feel his excitement through the front of his jeans, grinding against my own.

"Nix," I said, finally pulling away from him. I grabbed both sides of his face and looked into those beautiful green eyes, knowing exactly what I wanted. "Take me home."

He didn't need an explanation to know what I meant.

"Okay," he nodded.