Stella and the Boxer

Chapter 26

Tomorrow turns into today and I wake up in my favorite place. His arms are wrapped around me and his steady breathing blows gently at my hair. He almost never wakes later than I do, but I'm glad that today is an exception.



I wish that I could shift in his arms and look at him, but I know that he would feel me, and be pulled from sleep. So, I just lie blissfully, with him around me.

It's is only a very short while before his alarm goes off, and he starts to shift. I lift myself up out of his arms and turn so that I can face him as he opens his pretty eyes.

The sun shining through the curtains spills into the bedroom in bright streaks, one perfectly illuminating his face, and making his eyes look a lighter shade of blue.

He lifts his hand and brushes my hair away from my face, smiling serenely at me.

"Good morning, baby."



"Is this too short in the back? I don't want my butt showing in these leggings."

Charlie laughs at me while I inspect myself in the mirror. I've decided to wear a long sleeve, black and white striped shirt with a denim jacket over it, leggings, and boots. I'd thought that the jacket would be long enough to cover everything, but now I'm not sure.

"I have plenty of denim shirts and jackets, why don't you just borrow one of mine?"

"You don't mind?"

"Of course not. You wear my clothes to bed all the time. I like it when you wear my stuff."

"Okay, do you want to just pick one out for me while I pack my bag for school?"

He nods and stands up from the side of his bathtub, walking towards his closet as I leave the bathroom and gather my things.

The jacket that he picks out for me is much larger, and more comfortable than the one that I brought for myself, and it smells good, too. He dresses me in it without question, moving my arms through the long sleeves and even cuffing them for me. Then, he moves both of his hands to the back of my neck and pulls my long, wavy hair from the jacket, spreading it over my shoulders. His eyes catch at my chest, and he stares for a long moment.

"Pig," I joke, and he realizes his discrepancy.

"I wasn't staring at your boobs," he smiles, "I'm just happy to see that you're still wearing your necklace. You wore it yesterday, too. I was afraid you would have taken it off."

"No," I say, "I've worn it every day since you gave it to me. I only take it off at night. You're still wearing your ring," I gesture towards his hand.

"I am. I've worn it everyday, too. I'm glad you like that necklace so much, though. It can always be my excuse now, whenever I actually am staring at your boobs."

He grins and I roll my eyes, reaching for my bag so we can leave. He takes it from me before I can even get it on my shoulder, "I've got it, baby. Let's go."



Most of my day goes on as expected: classes, a physics test, and studying during my breaks. I don't see Andy during my short stop back in my room, but leave her a note:

Hi! Hope you enjoyed the privacy last night. I've just stopped by to study for a while, and pick up my car keys. I won't be here tonight, either. I promise, I'm not just staying out because I have a roommate now. If you need anything, don't hesitate to call! I would've texted, but I thought a note would be more personal... Does it feel that way? Anyway, hope your day is going well.

S



I told Charlie that he should let me drive myself to work, and then back to his house. I love his car, but I like having mine close. He pouted, and I wondered to myself if he thought that I would use it for an escape vehicle again - poor thing.

Everything seems in order at Dr. Keller's - no surprises. When Dylan shows up for an appointment, though, it's apparent she's on edge.

"Hi, Dylan," I say, smiling.

"Do you work here everyday? Aren't you a student, too?" She asks defensively.

"Not everyday," I say calmly, "I'm only supposed to be working on Fridays, but I seem to be filling in during all of your scheduled appointments."

"I'm not supposed to have appointments on Wednesdays - only Mondays and Fridays," she states, biting her lip and looking towards Dr. Keller's office. She is sitting on the sofa parallel to me, and she taps both of her small feet in an alternate beat against the cold, marble floor.

"Wednesdays often call for professional help," I joke, instantly feeling like I've put my foot in my mouth.

I'm relieved when she looks back at me with humor in her eyes and chuckles lightly, "I guess I can't really disagree."

"Dylan? Good to see you," Dr. Keller appears at the end of the lobby, "Are you ready to come back?"

Dylan quietly tells me goodbye and then heads off for her appointment.

As I'm leaving the office to go home - back to Charlie's - I realize that the ample energy I woke up with this morning was only fleeting - I am so tired again. Fortunately, I should be able to get to bed early tonight and sleep well again.

Charlie and I had decided to make fettuccine for dinner, and I insisted that I be the one to stop by the store to get the few items that he isn't currently stocked up on. I go to the same supermarket that we'd been by together and, when I go to checkout, Charlie's friend is working the cash register.

"Hi," she says, tilting her head a bit. Bridget has a very evident southern accent. Despite living in South Carolina my whole life, I still notice accents very suddenly, because my own isn't regional. I'm secretly glad that Charlie doesn't have an accent, either, because I honestly find them quite distracting. "You're the girl who came in with -" Bridget trails off.

"Yes, that's me," I smile, "Your name was Bridget, right? Mine is Stella."

Charlie introduced me, but I can't blame her for not remembering my name.

"Yes, I remember," Bridget proves me wrong as she begins to scan the food.

"How did you do it?" she asks, suddenly.

I am looking down, searching my bag for my debit card. I find it as she asks and I look up, "Sorry?"

"Well, I don't think that it's a coincidence that Charlie stopped going out and..." She leaves out whatever was coming next and gives me my total. I swipe my card. "What I mean is, he is staying at home with you now, I assume. He brings you to the supermarket with him. There were so many girls who would've wanted that with him. What's your secret?"

I laugh a little. Bridget doesn't seem condescending; I just can't really give her an answer.

"I don't know," I shake my head, "I met him in the café where I work. I wasn't really thinking about getting him to stay home and cook with me. It just happened like that. I don't have a secret."

"You're lucky. He was still a good guy - I didn't mean to make it out like he was just using girls and tossing them aside. A lot of girls wanted him to treat them special - like he apparently treats you - that's all."

"It's alright," I smile, "Well, it was nice to see you again."

"Yeah, you too," she says, still looking a bit scared that she's offended me.

When I make it back to Charlie's, he meets me by my car so that he can carry the grocery bags inside. He says hello to me and kisses my forehead, but seems distant and worried. As we enter the house, I ask what's wrong.

"I just got a text - a number that I didn't recognize - saying sorry if they've upset you," he says, pulling the front door closed behind him, "I didn't text back. You pulled into the driveway, so I knew you were safe. Did something happen?"

"Oh, it was probably Bridget. We talked for a minute at the check out. She didn't upset me," I say casually, entering the kitchen. Charlie is behind me, placing the bags on the counter.

"What did she say though? Did she say something about me?"

"She implied that a lot of girls would be pretty jealous of me," I tell him, as I put water on to boil. I am so hungry I can hardly think about anything else.

"They have reasons to be. You're smart, gorgeous and independent. And you -"

"No, not like that," I laugh, "I mean because of you. Apparently you were a hot ticket item."

He raises his eyebrows at me, "Why the constant objectification?"

"It's an example - a metaphor. I'm not saying it to make you uncomfortable. Just take it as a compliment, that's all. Are you completely oblivious to the fact that a lot of girls find you attractive?"

"I'm not completely oblivious," he grins down at his hands as he opens the pasta noodles, and his cheeks redden just slightly.

"Well, now you can be even less oblivious."

"I can't see why it would matter. I have you now," he turns to me, his grin warms into a content smile.

"You do. I don't mind complimenting you though, because I know you couldn't be any more humble."

"Did she tell you anything else?" He frowns, adding salad into a large bowl.

"Umm," I try to remember, "Not really. I think she was just worried that I took what she said the wrong way. She seems really sweet. You know, you can always hang out with your old friends, if you want."

I take a bite out of an apple that I've pulled from the bag and washed. I usually end up eating while making dinner, and Charlie does all of the work.

"She wasn't really my friend, Stella," he chuckles, but looks embarrassed and still a bit nervous.

"I'm not trying to corner you," I tell him, hopping onto the counter. I wouldn't normally sit on someone's kitchen counter, particularly one that is so perfectly clean all of the time, but he has set me here before himself, so I know it's okay. I take another bite of my apple and attempt to look him in the eye, so he knows I'm being honest.

"I know you aren't, baby," he comes close to me, slowly spreading my knees so that he can stand between them, "I love that you don't worry about things like that. But I don't like it when other people bring them up to you, because you shouldn't have to know. I don't want to hide anything from you, but I don't want to talk to you about my past, in that respect, either. It would feel disrespectful."

"That's too bad," I say nonchalantly, "I thought we could exchange stories over dinner."

He looks horrified when I say it, and I feel guilty for mocking him.

"I'm sorry. I'm just not upset at all. I don't want to ever fight with you again, after last week."

It's an honest apology, though equally honest might have been "I'm tired and hungry, and I'd rather joke about sex right now than talk about feelings." But that would be insensitive.

"Me either," he says, "I would be slashing your tires right now if you'd have seemed very upset," he smiles, bringing his hand up to brush my hair back, over my shoulder.

I laugh, "You can just start taking my keys when I come over for the night, if it eases your mind."

I'm only joking, but as he smiles and goes to add pasta to the now boiling water, I wonder if he's actually considering it.

We decide to eat dinner on the couch. Charlie heads off to the living room with our plates while I feed Cooper and then follow with our drinks.

"Have you talked to your parents about New York at all?" He asks, as I place our glasses on the table in front of us and sit down beside him, pulling my plate onto my lap.

"No," I say, twisting pasta around my fork, "I wasn't sure that you were still going. I know they'll be fine with it. I just need to warn them in case they've made plans. I need to ask Dr. Keller about what she wants me to do over break, too. That could affect it, I guess," I take the bite into my mouth, savoring the perfect flavor and texture. It's almost embarrassing how much better he is at cooking than I am, but I'm not embarrassed enough to not enjoy it.

"You don't have to come, if you don't want to. I understand if you're busy or would rather be home with your parents."

"You know I want to come," I speak with my mouth full, defending my feelings, but swallow before continuing. "I'll talk to my parents about it tonight, and Dr. Keller next week. I'm not trying to turn your invitation down gently," I shake my head disapprovingly at his doubt. "Did you train with Mark today?"

"Yes, he actually showed up. Apparently he hasn't gambled in a week. It's not much progress, but it's something," Charlie shrugs, taking another bite of pasta.

"Good attitude," I smile, "Do you scold him when he shows up to coach you?" I bite my lip, imagining Charlie towering over his trainer, who is well over twenty years his senior, frowning, and telling him to man up.

"I don't scold people, Stella. I am just disappointed in him."

"You're such a dad," I tell him, and he smirks at me.

Since I didn't help much with dinner, I insist on cleaning up. Charlie stands behind me at the sink, his arms around my waist, running his lips over the skin of my neck and leaving small kisses. My phone sits on the counter beside us and begins to vibrate. I assume it's my parents, but as I dry my hands and turn off the water, I notice Dr. Keller's name.

"She must need me to fill in again," I consider out loud.

Charlie stops kissing me for a moment to glance my caller I.D., but then I feel his soft hands gently shift the neck of my shirt to expose my shoulder.

"Hello?" As I answer the phone, I feel Charlie's teeth graze my shoulder and I instantly get chills. I bite my bottom lip before I can make a sound. I don't want to let a moan slip out while on the line with my boss, so I shrug him off of my shoulder, and he laughs quietly.

"Stella? This is Dr. Keller. I'm sorry to call you so late - I've just received a call from Dylan's parents. She's been crying for over an hour now and they can't calm her down."

I start to feel sick to my stomach, because I remember those nights so well. I don't want to think about Dylan in that state.

"Her parents say that the only thing she's told them is that she wants to talk to you."

I don't want Dr. Keller to think that I've been trying to play therapist with Dylan. I start to panic, "I'm sorry. I didn't try to get her to tell me anything she just -"

"You aren't in any trouble, Stella. If you don't feel comfortable going and talking with her, you aren't obligated."

"No, I want to. I mean, I'll talk to her as long as you're comfortable with it."

"I am," Dr. Keller assures me, "Anyone who can help her at this point - Let me just give you her parents phone number, whenever you're ready."

She reads off the number and I nudge Charlie behind me, willing him to remember as I repeat it. As soon as I hang up with Dr. Keller, he recites the number.

"You have a good memory," I say, dialing quickly. He hasn't asked what the call is about yet, but his grip on me tightens barely, and I know that he's worried. He could probably feel my body tense.

Dylan's parents are relieved when I call, and immediately give me directions to their house; they live only ten minutes from Charlie.

"I have to go to one of Dr. Keller's clients' house. I should probably go alone, because she's just a teenager, I don't want her to feel like we're an audience or something. I'm sorry. I promise I'll be back."

I've taken Charlie's hand and began walking both of us towards his room so that I can grab my jacket and keys while I explain myself.

"Stella, please let me drive you. I'll stay in the car so I don't make her family uncomfortable," he assures me, "You shouldn't just go to a stranger's house alone though."

"She's a young girl. They don't live far from here, so it's not like I'll be in a bad area. I'm not in any danger," I've gathered most everything that I need and turn from my bag to face Charlie, who is looking at me disapprovingly.

"Okay," I give in, "You're right. I'd feel better if you were at least waiting for me in the car."

He smiles and nods, "Let me just grab a jacket and my keys."

When we're in his vintage mustang, I thank him for insisting on driving.

"Thank you for letting me drive you, baby. I know doing things like this alone doesn't bother you, but I would have been worried."

He turns away from the road for a short moment to look at me, his lips in a half smile, keeping one hand on the wheel and the other in mine, on the center console.

"I used to be afraid," I tell him as he looks back towards his headlights on the road, "I was afraid of everything until you."

"You weren't afraid of too much, Stella. You left home, left your family to come to school. You let me take you out when you barely knew anything about me,"

"I also lacked good judgment," I interrupt and he laughs a little, squeezing my hand.

"You are independent, and you have been for a long time. You don't cling to people for support, you can do anything you want to on your own. You have me now, though. I'm glad you think I've helped."

Rather than reply, I let the Johnny Cash song that plays quietly through the stereo fill the silence, and I lean my head against my seat and stare out the window at the night sky, keeping a tight hold on Charlie's hand. He still hasn't asked where or why he's driving me to console a teenage girl so late on a Wednesday night. I like that he hasn't, because it makes me feel like he trusts me, and trusts that what I'm doing is important. I'm also glad, because I don't have much time to explain, anyway. We are nearing the address that Dylan's parents gave, and I sit up a bit in my seat to watch for the numbers on the houses.

"It's this one," I say, pointing at a two-story brick home.

I look at Charlie as he pulls over and parks in front of the Kent's house. I can tell that we are both nervous.

"I'll be right here," He tells me, pulling his hand from mine and cupping my cheek. "You'll be alright," the way that he says it, I can't tell if he's asking or assuring. I don't say anything in response; I just kiss him before opening my door.

I suddenly feel my phone vibrating in my hand.

"Shit," I look down and see that it's my parents. I think of a solution quickly and don't have time to question it.

"Charlie? It's my parents - probably my mom," I say, handing him my phone, "Will you just tell her that I'm meeting with someone and I'll call them when I'm out? Just make sure they know that I'm alright."

"Okay," He says, his eyes wide.

I nod once and close the car door, feeling guilty that I'm now letting him to speak to my parents for the first time without me. He will probably still be one the phone when I return from the house, listening to my mother's opinion on a film that she's watching. I smile to myself, thinking about how wholly pleased my mother will be when she answers and realizes that it is Charlie whom she's speaking to. She will probably forget to even ask where I am, or why I haven't answered.

Dylan's father opens the door before I am even on the porch.

"Stella, thank you so much for coming. I'm Dylan's dad, Sam, and this is my wife, Laura," he gestures towards Dylan's mom, who is sitting on the couch and I can tell she's been crying, but she tries her best to smile at me.

"Thank you so much for coming, Stella. Dylan won't speak to us, we've tried everything," Laura says in a muffled voice, lifting herself from the couch.

"I'm glad that you called. I hope I can help."

Sam and Laura both show me to Dylan's room. I know how hard this has been on them. Sam mentions that their only two sons are older and away at school, so it is just the he, Dylan, and Laura who live in the house. When she won't talk to them, they have no one else to go to, just like my parents. They probably feel so helpless.

I can hear Dylan sobbing through the door as I open it.

The walls in her room are a pale shade of lime green. The rest of the room is colorful: lots of pinks, blues, and purples. Her walls are covered with pictures and she has a bookshelf full of young adult novels, some familiar to me, and souvenir-like decorations. She has a desk with a message board hanging over it and I see memos that her friends have written, signed, and dated. The messages are simple things like "I love you, Dyl," short quotes, and some that look to be inside jokes. All of the messages date back months ago, presumably before the issues with her boyfriend started.

She is sitting on her bed now, cradling her knees, her face buried against her legs. She is not the girl whom this room belongs to.

______________________________________

I was so excited to make it to 2k! Thank you to everyone who's been reading/voting/commenting. As always, I hope you're liking the story. :)