The "Stylist" | Book I in a Series of Mistaken Identities

DAY ONE

Melissa

I could sense Charlie watching us before I even saw him. Just being here in his home makes me hyper-aware and on edge. When I was here yesterday, I had free reign of the whole apartment. It was nothing like I expected. I thought it would be bright and colorful like his wardrobe, but I couldn't have been more wrong. It's beautiful. Everything is either white or beige, there's a lot of solid wood, and just like his office, it's jam-packed with plants. If he's not careful Charlie's little brother is going to make an utter mess of this place.

Charlie comes into the kitchen and starts to make coffee, "Would you like some?"

"Yes, please," I say as I plate up the pancakes and slide them in front of Archie.

As I start to tidy up, I can't help but notice the way Charlie's muscles flex when he reaches into the upper cabinet to pull out a bag of coffee beans. This is by far the most casual outfit I've ever seen him. That is, if briefs even count as an outfit because when I got out of the elevator earlier it was impossible to not ogle him. Memories of catching him in the shower came flooding back and I thought it would be almost impossible to keep my guard up, but luckily for me, Archer was here as a bit of a buffer. With him around then there's less risk of me getting into a sticky conversation that I don't think I'm ready yet. Then again, I guess I wouldn't be here, inserting myself into his situation if I wasn't ready.

The whole time I was here setting up the things I had ordered for Archer, I was going over what Laurie told me. There's no doubt that Deborah had set him up. I don't know if me catching them in the act was her plan, but now she's gone we'll never know. I guess what I really want to know, more than anything, is why Charlie didn't tell me about being drugged and the restraining order. Maybe he just didn't want to fight for me. And now here I am, pushing into his home and making breakfast. I'm suddenly hit by the feeling I'm making a complete fool of myself, and I feel my body tense up with panic. Flight mode engaged.

I stop washing the pan and just hold it there under the water, trying to figure out the best way to escape. I should never have come here, I'm a fucking idiot. He's barely even said a word to me. It's at that moment Charlie comes up behind me, as if sensing my intention to flee, and turns off the tap. He just stands there with his hands on the edge of the sink, one on either side of my body trapping me at the sink from behind. So much for the kid being a buffer, he's in his own world of pancakes, milk, and blueberries and Charlie seems to be taking full advantage.

Charlie drops his forehead onto my shoulder, "Please, don't leave," he speaks only loud enough for me to hear, "I need you more than you know."

I feel a drop of water dripping onto my shoulder from his damp hair and look at him. I turn to face him and the vulnerability in his eyes almost scares me. I feel myself nod and he seems to relax a little. I lower the pan and notice I've been holding my breath and slowly letting it out.

"You'll stay?" he asks, almost to make sure.

I nod, "Yes,"

"How do you take your coffee?"

"Black."

"Coming right up," he gets back to making coffee.

"Can I have some coffee?" Archer asks.

"Sure, you want cream and sugar?" Charlie says and I glare at him to make sure he's not being serious. He just shakes his head at me as if pretending to be offended that I'd even think he'd actually give a toddler coffee, "Sorry Archie, coffee isn't good for little bodies," he winks at me before turning on the coffee machine.

"But I'm a big boy," Archer explains.

"Yeah. but I'm bigger," Charlie's tone leaves no room for argument and Archer sticks with his orange juice.