The afternoon she came over to move in was the first time he’d seen her since their walk from the bridge. She’d pulled up in a dusty Datsun, one that looked like it was about twenty years old. The back of it was filled with boxes and clothes on hangers. Everything was neatly organized.
When Charlotte stepped out of the driver’s seat his heart moved. She was even more beautiful today, her long hair falling around her shoulders in amber waves, her tan legs toned in a pair of khaki shorts. She was natural and perfect, and if this was any other time he would have laid on the heavy charm but he knew that kind of thing wouldn’t work with her.
She didn’t know who he was. He couldn’t lean on his name or his family’s reputation. In order to get someone like Charlotte to like him he’d have to hope that he, by himself, was good enough.
And looking at her right now, he felt like he fell very short.
“Hey,” she said, walking towards him. “I’m here.”
Declan nodded, “Yep. Glad to have you. Want me to get some of those boxes?” He nodded over at her car.
Charlotte shook her head, “No, I’ve got them. You’ve done enough.” She looked around her eyes wide. “You live here?”
Declan smiled, “Yep. Born and raised.”
“It’s the most beautiful home I’ve ever seen,” Charlotte said. “Are you sure it’s okay I’m moving in?”
“Charlotte, we never even use the carriage house. Well, sometimes I use it to escape my parents, but you staying here is completely okay. My parents are used to one of my friends being here. They don’t mind.”
“So they know you’ve rented out the carriage house to someone you met crying on the Ravenel and who you’ve barely known a week? I mean, I could be a runaway fugitive, and a serial killer for all you know.” Charlotte winked at him. “You could be aiding and abetting.”
Declan laughed, “Are you pre-law?”
“Nope. Pre-med. I don’t want to kill people. I want to help them.”
They stared at one another awkwardly for a moment, not sure what to say when a voice pierced through the sexual tension between them.
“Declan!” a girl called to him from next to Charlotte’s car. “Ew, whose car is this? Your gardener’s? Doesn’t your momma make them park on the street usually?”
“What the fuck?” Declan muttered. “Sorry, Charlotte. It’s Saylor… She’s my…”
“Girlfriend?” Charlotte finished. “It’s okay, I’ll start unpacking the gardener’s car I guess.”
Saylor Embers stood in the driveway in a tiny pair of high-waisted shorts and a tank top. She was a stunning brunette bombshell, with the longest legs Charlotte had ever seen on someone not on a runway.
Of course this would be his girlfriend, Charlotte thought.
“Who are you?” asked Saylor. “Declan, what is this about?”
“Saylor, not that it’s any of your business but this is Charlotte Sanders,” Declan said. “She’s renting the carriage house this summer.”
“Is she?” Saylor said, looking Charlotte up and down. “Is your momma doing some kind of charity or adult foster care program?”
Charlotte sighed and looked over at Declan.
“I’m going in,” she said, walking away.
Declan glared at Saylor, “What the hell is wrong with you? And what are you doing here? When someone doesn’t answer your texts, take it as a hint, Saylor. I’m busy.”
“Looks like you’re definitely busy,” Saylor remarked. “Having a little ghetto fling for the summer. Thinking I’ll still be around after you’ve had your fun.”
“Trust me, Saylor. I’m not interested anymore. And this shit is why. You can be such a bitch,” Declan said, walking back toward the house. “Go fuck with some other guy that’s willing to put up with your shit. Because I’m not him anymore.”
He walked away, leaving Saylor Embers alone in his parents’ crushed oyster shell driveway. For good.
********
Charlotte and Declan formed an unlikely friendship in the following weeks. Neither were in any classes for the summer so they fell into a routine of sorts.
Charlotte had picked up more shifts at Dixie Garden. She’d work the lunch crowd and come home in the afternoon. On the weekends she worked nights and Declan would try to be around when she got back and they would sometimes watch a movie or just sit around on the porch, talking about things. Nothing heavy, just the kind of conversations you have with someone you’re trying to get to know.
They’d argue about movies, television, sometimes politics. Declan always leaned a little more to the right of things, while Charlotte was more progressive. It never got too heated and Declan liked the challenge Charlotte brought to the table. She had thoughts and opinions she could back up, and she wasn’t afraid to share them and never was one to pretend to agree with him. If anything, she enjoyed when they disagreed, which was often.
Anna DeGraff had taken notice of her son’s new friend.
“When are you going to introduce me to our new tenant?” she asked him over breakfast one morning. “You sure spend a lot of time over there these days.”