old soul | matthew gray gubler

9. autumn and mahogany

Charlotte tore through her closet 30 minutes before Matthew was due to pick her up.

She'd wasted the day away cleaning every inch of the house to ease her anxiety about that night. Charlotte reached inch by inch of the large house with a broom, mop, and Swiffer duster, content with the thoughts that scrubbed away with every damp washcloth.

By the time the clock reached 6:30, she gave up, leaving only her bedroom and the dishes to be done. Charlotte wasn't really a messy person, but she had her lazy day's where she'd throw her shoes in the middle of her floor or miss her laundry basket in the corner of her room. There were loose wrappers around the house and dog fur from Cece's black lab Charlotte babysat sometimes.

Her stomach was growling incessantly loud. She gave up cleaning, letting the supplies pile back up in their respective closets and corners. Her bedroom and the dishes needed done, but she had all the time in the world.

Charlotte rummaged through the cabinets, coming across very little: an empty peanut butter jar; a can of Tuna fish, but no mayonnaise; milk that was sitting just on the bottom of the jug. A loud clang rang through the house as she slammed shut the door to the final cabinet she was looking at.

She toyed with her cell phone, cursing her name for not shopping and having to settle for fast food. She didn't have enough time to drive all the way into town, though, especially not with this traffic, and she only realized this when she looked at the time: Nearly 7 PM.

Charlotte stuffed a fist full of crackers in her mouth before stomping up the stairs: Crumbs fell down the front of her shirt, chapstick-like salt lining her lips. She swallowed down the glob of food as she shut the door to her bathroom.

Charlotte stripped from her sweaty clothes and swept aside the shower curtain. It took a minute, but the hot water fogged up the bathroom, mixing a humid oil over the sweat already on her skin.

She showered at a speed like no other, although she cut her leg multiple times from shaving it. When she stepped out, a thick heat covered the room, so she flicked on the fan. Charlotte wrapped up her hair and wiped away the droplets on her skin.

Then she was fighting the clothes in her closet.

She tried on skirts and dresses, the intended type of style she was going for (she shaved her legs!). Everything felt too fancy.

It was a bar, not quite a club, and it wasn't like she was meeting these people for the first time.

Matthew hadn't specified it as a date, but he didn't say they were 'just friends.'

Then again, she had just met him.

Perhaps she was throwing her head over her heels?

But, she was definitely not going to wear those.

Charlotte settled on a pair of blue jeans and paired them with a black wrap top. There was a little bow on her right hip that hung down a little bit; simple, but effective. She settled on Cheetah print booties as soon as a knock resounded through the house. Her phone buzzed, too, with a text from 'Thew (Gube).'

'Don't know if you heard, but I'm here! And it's kinda chilly.'

Charlotte barely paid attention to the end of the message, but managed to catch the breeze coming from her bedroom window. She quickly shut it, locked it, and grabbed a random gray zip up sitting on her bed.

She shut off all the lights on her way down the stairs and grabbed her purse off the kitchen table. Charlotte carefully opened the door and Matthew's head snapped her way.

He had been admiring her neighbors lawn, which was still decorated with Christmas decorations.

"Someone's still celebrating," he pointed to the right, cheeks bunched up in a smile.

Charlotte's diaphragm lifted in this strange sense of euphoric giggle; it felt like she was back in high school, getting picked up by a date she never actually had.

"They're older. Gotta celebrate before you can't at all, right?"

Matthew's brows shot up, but it was with delightful surprise. "Wow! Digging their grave."

She shook her head. "Just wishing they would at least turn the lights off at night."

Matthew side stepped, a motion for Charlotte to come outside. She did, immediately feeling the breeze. It was pleasant now, but later, it would be terrible.

The sun was set, but there was still palettes of pink to purple to blue fading across the moons horizon. It matched the warm, fuzzy night. Charlottes serotonin levels were up, on a scale that made her throat feel clogged with some type of squeal.

He said something else and they joked about it further. He opened his car door for her, pointed out the stuffed frog hanging from his rear view mirror.

Charlotte noticed it smelled of him; so pleasantly Autumn-esque and Mahogany. There was a hint of Balsam indented in the air because of the infuser stuck in the vents. It was nearly gone, as the Christmas season had been a month ago. But, he obviously didn't want it to be.

Charlotte wondered why. She didn't want to be nosy and ask, but she knew there had to be a reason he was holding onto the Christmas season so much.

She'd find out soon enough, but they'd reach the bar sooner.