Getting Over Charlie Miller

Chocolate Vanilla Muffins

I looked up and saw Charlie Miller waiting for me.

He hadn’t noticed me looking, but I’d recognise the back of his head all day, any day. He’d had a haircut, actually. It suited him, shaven sides and long on top. Trendy.

He looked almost nervous, his eyes darting around before resting on me.

A bubble of confidence surrounded him. He was wearing his Notre Dame Boys’ uniform, but he could have passed for a St Trinians pupil. If they accepted boys, of course. Time seemed to be frozen, or moving really slowly. The world around me disappeared as I took in Charlie’s appearance.

He was all I could see as I walked forwards, gazing into those deep blue eyes.

All of a sudden he turned around, making direct eye contact with me. I stared into his eyes, imploring him to look away. He refused. I saw him lick his perfectly pink lips and open his kissable mouth to speak.

‘Hey, Lou.’ He greeted me shyly, his hand reaching to take my school bag.

***

It was only a short walk back to Charlie’s house, but I didn’t want it to end. With his free hand he grasped my own and entwined our fingers, swinging our arms as we walked in silence. It wasn’t awkward exactly, just peaceful somehow. Despite my complete lack of knowledge about him, I couldn’t think of a single word to say. He didn’t intimidate me like every other boy, but made me feel at ease. Yet I was still unfamiliar with the touch of his skin and the sound of his voice.

‘Here we are.’ He turned to me as we stood at his gate. ‘Home sweet home.’

We advanced slowly towards a Victorian semi-detached house. Each square window was painted a shiny white, and the blue front door looked welcoming with a metal number twelve on it. As we neared the front door, I could see through the window and into the kitchen that lay behind it. To my horror I noticed that Charlie’s parents were eating dinner inside. I gripped his hand tighter.

‘Meeting the parents on the first date?’ I joked. ‘Very formal.’

‘What?’ He gave me a puzzled look. ‘Oh God. Just smile and laugh at everything they say.’

His discomfort somehow made me feel at ease, and as we burst into the room I gave his mum my best smile. ‘This is Ella.’ Charlie said to his parents.

‘It’s lovely to meet you, Ella!’ His mum gushed, smiling at me.

I glared at Charlie. ‘Actually.. I’m Louise. Nice to meet you too, though!’

The woman looked at Charlie with a disapproving look while her husband gave me a small smile. As they both glanced back down at their plates I gathered it was time to leave them to their dinner. I looked at Charlie to try and communicate this.

Unfortunately, Charlie and I weren’t familiar with each other’s facial expressions and their hidden meanings yet, and he had other ideas. He leant over and pulled open a drawer, retrieved two aprons and handed one to me. I received it with a perplexed look.

‘Didn’t you know I love baking?’

‘Um..No?’ Charlie didn’t look the baking type. He was strong, sporty and masculine. But then maybe I was just being judgemental.

Before I could protest, he’d pulled the apron over my blonde waves and tied it in a bow at my back. ‘Wouldn’t want cake mixture on your uniform, now, would we?’

His mum and dad picked up their half-finished meals and moved into the next room, making me feel excessively guilty. I didn’t think this was the best start. Looking over at Charlie, I realised that he was nervous. Perhaps more nervous than me. On his lightly tanned cheeks there were two red circles developing. My, oh my, was Charlie Miller blushing?

‘So, er.’ He laughed shyly. ‘What’s your favourite cake flavour?’

‘Seriously?’ I asked, chuckling at the awkwardness.

‘Gotta start somewhere.’

‘Chocolate. You?’

‘Vanilla all the way.’ The blush faded momentarily before returning brighter than ever as he leant over me to turn on the radio.

***

We had a good rhythm going. I’d add the ingredients and Charlie would mix them in ably with the wooden spoon wielded in his strong hands. We’d decided to make chocolate and vanilla muffins. As we went along, we quizzed each other.

‘Siblings?’ He demanded.

‘Brother, Matthew. Seventeen.’ I smashed an egg on the bowl. ‘Favourite colour?’

‘Easily green.’ He looked up at me. ‘The mixtures done now. Cats or dogs?’

I shuddered. ‘Neither. Fish at most. Middle name?’

Charlie poured the mixture into a cake tin and slipped it into the oven. ‘I refuse to discuss the matter.’

I shoved him playfully. ‘You can’t refuse a question. I told you about my fear of clowns!’

‘Yeah but that’s cute.’

I blushed and looked away, feeling butterflies rising in my stomach as he came closer.

‘You can’t tell anyone.’ Charlie was blushing too. ‘Pinky swear.’

I handed over my pinky and entwined it with Charlie’s. Even this contact sent the butterflies into a frenzy, trying to escape from inside of me. To my surprise, Charlie pulled me gently towards him and into an embrace. I rested my cheek on his chest, holding on tightly as he stroked my back. His heart was beating at the speed of light, as was mine.

After a few minutes of this he spoke. ‘My middle name’s Eugene.’

I spluttered as his blush intensified. Then I felt mean. ‘Mine’s worse.’ I admitted.

Charlie released the hug and looked at me questioningly. ‘It’s Eugenie.’ I confessed.

He grinned and wrapped me once more in the safety of his arms.