CHAPTER 45: I LOVE YOU CHUCK

"You want me to what?!" My high pitched voice, so unlike me, rings throughout the cottage as I stare at Chuck in disbelief.

"Aww… C'mon babe… it ain't that bad…" Chuck grins smugly at my puffed up face.

"Your feet stink, Chuck! Unless you haven't noticed it, unlike us, the rest of the world!" I'm honest to God not being over-dramatic here. They do stink. a lot.

"You're my slave for the night, babe," he reminds me, "or would you just take the penalty?" he asks, grinning from ear-to-ear. So smug it makes me want to punch him. More than usual.

"Yes!" Wait! No. I mean…

"Really?" Chuck inches closer to me. I step back. I get further away when he keeps coming, until my back hits the kitchen counter. I gulp nervously.

"Ye… yes…?" I can even feel my voice trembling like the rest of my body.

"You know it's going to hurt like a bitch, right?" he asks again, making sure I know what I'm getting into. " And you know I won't hold back just because it's you," he adds.

"I wouldn't want you to!" I challenge him although I know I look nothing sort of convincing by the way my body is shrinking in front of him, which only turns up Chuck's smugness to the highest level.

"Brace yourself baby," Chuck leans down closer, whispering in my ear. I shiver when he pulls away.

I glance around the room, seeing faces full of curiosity and anticipation. I plead to Marsha who just smiles and shrugs apologetically. I close my eyes and brace myself.

Snap!

The sound echoes throughout the room. I hear gasps before I can feel the pain and hear my own screaming voice fill the air.

"Chuck you fucking jerk!" I almost drop to my knees as I put my palms on my burning forehead when Chuck, chuckling, catches me in his arms and soothes me. I can feel tears brimming from my eyes.

Chuck laughs so hard but he still pulls me to a chair and kneels in front of me, cupping my cheeks. I drop my hand so he can see his masterpiece, or should I say, the damage he had done on me. He laughs more when he sees it before planting soft kisses on it.

"You asked for it babe," Chuck says between the kisses.

"Fucking jackass!" I hiss at him.

"Well, you did bring it upon yourself," Kenenth says, "You know nothing good for you can come out of playing any kinds of sports with Chuck, right?" he asks as he approaches us with an ice pack.

"Yeah!? Well, he could at least hold back a little!" I pout, "It hurts like a fucking bitch on PMS!" I complain, earning a roar of laughter from my friends. "And here I thought you really love me," I add, feigning grievance, glaring at Chuck who places the pack on my forehead.

"This, and that, are totally unrelated," Chuck grins and peck my cheek.

"Jerk," I stuck my tongue at him.

"Bitch," he retorts back.

I was about to say something else when Marsha cuts us off and starts asking (commanding, more like it) us to start busy cooking or we won't be eating. And thus, we scatter and do as we're told.

Marsha has me working on the pasta and the seafood. Chuck is making the sauce. He's very good at making all kinds of sauces and dips and dressings.

Kenneth is in charge of the vegetables and Marsha is going to make the desert. Joy and Allen who have no prior experience in the kitchen are tasked to help with the preparation such as cutting vegetables, draining the pasta and stuff like that.

They both start off by looking completely lost before their awkwardness turns into nervousness and curiosity. They really look like young master/young lady at this point and I can't help but chuckle while helping them do this and that.

By seven forty something, we have finished cooking and now we're in the middle of admiring our creations as well as Allen and Joy's first home made cooking. Our dinner consists of seafood pasta in mushroom sauce, stir-fry spring vegetables and three layer chocolate soufflé.

We eat and chat at the dining table. We talk mostly of Allen and Joy's cooking virginity being taken by us and how they would like to do it again with us. Of course we welcome them. We also talk a lot about each other's history. We've only known Allen and Joy for a few months (and vice versa) and we exchange a lot of past stories. Ones that are good, obviously. We don't want to bring the mood down by telling some sorrowful tales. Not that we have any. But still…

After dinner, us boys set up the fireplace while the girls are preparing some snacks and some beer and wine. It's summer but we're in the middle of a forest high up on the mountain so it's bound to be a little chilly at night.

If you look around the living room, you'd think that there are six people and three couples by the way we're sitting. I can't help but scoff at myself for that thought after I settle down.

We all sit on the soft carpeted floor, ignoring the couches, with blankets covering us and throw pillows scattered around us. Joy and Allen sitting embracing each other, leaning against the couch to my right. Marsha, in Kenenth's arms, sitting on my left. Me, nestling comfortably in Chuck's arms, sitting against the middle couch in between the other two couples. Facing the warm fire with a cold beer in my hand and a warm chest against my back, I feel very content although slightly sad. Don't ask. I don't even know anymore.

Each pair of us have our own conversation in our own little worlds. I talk and joke with Chuck. We laugh a lot and I giggle a lot too. It seems that between the time I fell in love with Allen to now, I have picked up a habit of giggling. A lot. At first I didn't like it because it makes me sound like a girl. But Chuck doesn't seem to mind. In fact, I think he kinda likes it when I giggle. So I keep giggling.

We sometimes exchange conversations with the others and we'll tell stories and laugh before going back to each other's partner and have our own little conversation again. It's very relaxing. To be able to just sit and talk about nothing in particular, enjoying each other's company. Even Allen doesn't seem so tense anymore and he smiles and laughs a lot too. So am I. Most of the time. But it always brings smiles to my face everytime I see Allen smile or hear him laugh. Although it's painful to know that I am not the reason for those smiles and laughter nor it is me he's smiling at. It still feels good, though. Seeing him happy.

"I'm glad you're enjoying yourself," Chuck whispers to me, bringing his face closer. I can feel his breath on my neck. I smile unconsciously as I shift my position so I sit sideways between his legs so I can see him better. I put my beer down before giving him a questioning look.

He brings me in for a hug. He buries his face in my neck. I'm so used to it that I no longer feel ticklish.

"Chuck?" I ask, slightly worried when he sighs.

"Nothing. Just happy that you are," he mumbles.

My heart makes a sudden freefall. He's too sweet. How am I going to tell him that I've screwed up? Big time. I put my arms around his neck, pulling him closer to me.

"I love you," I say softly to him, "And Marsha. Even Kenneth. And Joy. And… Allen," I try not to choke when saying his name, "I'm happy. For sure," I reassure him.

"I want you to always be happy, Lee," he tells me, even softer.

What the hell is wrong with him? He's never this sappy before. Is he drunk? Already?

"Chuck? Are you drunk?" I tease him, giggling. Seriously, we only have a few bottles of beer and maybe a bottle of wine for the six of us. I'm pretty sure that won't make him drunk this fast.

"I love you, Lee," he says. Did he just tremble? I frown at that, "We all do," he adds after a while. "I can't see you be anything but happy. It hurts me when you're not happy."

"Chuck…" I'm starting to get really worried. He's never been like this before. Did he know something? Am I caught? Is he okay?

"I love you," he says again, a little harsher than before, "So much… you know that, right?" he asks, lifting his head up, staring at me.

I can't help feeling the familiar warmth creep up to my face. Why is he saying all of this?

"I love you too, Chuck. So much. Or have you forgotten that?" I ask, feeling confused and worried. "You know I'd do anything for you. For Marsha." I tell him softly, carefully. "Chuck? Are you okay?" I ask after a while when he's just staring at me, not saying anything.

"I'm fine," he answers, smiling now. "Thank you for saying that," he adds and I feel my expression softens as I reach my hand out to caress his slightly flushed cheek.

"You are my best friend, Chuk. I love you. Nothing will ever change that," I reassure him, but moreover, I reassure myself, as I lean further to hug him. We're clinging to each other now. Me seeking forgiveness and him, God knows what.

"Thank you," he mumbles and I mumble back. We repeat those words over and over again like a couple of insecure teenagers.

But I guess, in a sense, we are.