Read Emily Franklin - Principles Of Love 06 - Labor Of Love for Free Online Page B

back is nearly resting on the passenger-side door, stretching the seat belt until I figure we're parked and just undo it."You weren't that bad."

    Charlie finally looks at me directly."That bad? Thanks."

    "Hey--you were the one who suggested it," I say and then let loose. "I haven't even gotten so much as a hug from you and I came all the way back from LA only to be greeted by Mr. Cold and Unemotional--a vastly different species from the person who called me every two seconds while I was gone. Not to mention having to contend with your parents--who--and this might not come as a huge shock-surprise--are not the most comforting of creatures." I get all of this out in one breath and feel an immediate release.

    Charlie laughs half out his nose and then lets the sound out of his mouth. "See? There's my Love. Where were you for the past hour and a half during that stifled lemonade?"

    "Where was I?" I raise my eyebrows and smooth my hair, then twist it back on itself so it stays in a bun."Where were you? I at least have the excuse of never having met your parents--or Parker, for that matter--but you . . ."

    "Yeah, I live there," Charlie says in a clipped and sarcastic

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    tone that would be funny if it weren't so pointed."So--the Fourth of July dinner, right?" I nod."I make my announce ment about going back to school. I swear, the reaction from my parents was like I'd been critically ill and then suddenly in remission. . . ."

    Charlie looks at me right after he says this and then blushes. Comparing his former student status to being sick might be truthful but it doesn't hit me well--my aunt's death from breast cancer is still too recent, too raw, for me to appreciate the comparison."Sorry."

    I shake my head."It's okay."

    "Anyway, my point is . . . they're basically all about ap pearances. My parents love that I'm going back to school. Another Harvard boy--"

    "What about Parker?"

    "What about him?" Charlie asks."He sets the gold stan dard and I'm doomed to follow in his footsteps. Mikayla gets off without the familial duty because she's a girl--and my parents have lower standards for her. Pathetic, but true."

    "God, it sounds awful," I say, my mouth grimacing as though I've tasted something rotten. "Mikayla isn't subject to scrutiny because of her gender?"

    "No--she's totally subjected to it, just a different kind. My mother attacks the way Mikayla looks, whom she dates, her clothes--and Parker gets off scot-free; he always has.

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    Even when we were kids, he'd do something wrong--break a glass, drink my father's scotch, throw a party at their house--and I'd somehow get blamed."

    I reach out and touch Charlie's arm again and this time he responds taking my hands in his. Feeling his skin on mine brings a wash of warmth over me and for the first time since seeing him again, I feel connected."I missed this." I squeeze his palms.

    "I missed this." Charlie slips an arm around my back, pulling me into him, and places the other on the back of my head, holding me at an angle while kissing me.The kind of kiss they do in movies when a sailor is shipping out to sea for a year.

    "So," I say when we pause the kissing.

    "So, what was the deal with you and the beer?" Charlie gives me a quizzical look.

    My hand flies to my mouth."Was it that obvious?"

    Charlie's lips cover his teeth and he nods."Um, yeah."

    "Do you think your parents knew?"

    "Yep."

    I tuck and retuck strands of my hair that have freed themselves of the bun."Great. Now they think I'm a lush as well as undeserving of you. . . ."

    "No. They don't think that at all.They're not stupid--they saw you with Parker.They know what he's like. . . ." Charlie

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    thinks of something, then looks at me, his eyes flashing from amused to concerned."Why were you with him?"

    From his mouth, his expression, I gather that Charlie isn't concerned about the beer, more that I was with Parker."Are you asking if . . ." I hope my voice