Charity ^

10. Put In A Large Bowl

"Maisie."

Maisie turned around to see Bud wearing a fluorescent yellow tank top and white shorts which were much too short and much too white. Sweat was dripping from every part of his body and the usual fake tan look his skin had was now bright red from an obvious sun burn. Maisie narrowed her eyes.

"Are trying to impersonate a tomato or something?" she asked.

Bud's eye twitched. "I need to talk to you."

Maisie turned away from the window of her bakery and gave Bud her full attention. The man took a step forward and pulled the earbuds out of his ears.

"Are you sending spies into my bakery?" he asked seriously and Maisie choked out a laugh.

"Spies?"

"Yes, those fiends you have in that bakery of yours. I keep seeing them at my bakery."

"They're delinquents Bud, not ninjas," Maisie deadpanned.

"Look, yesterday I saw one of your guys come in for the third time. He's one hell of a bad spy by the way because he makes it blatantly obvious by walking in, talking to my workers then walking out without buying anything."

"The third time?" Maisie frowned. "What the hell are you talking about?"

"One of your guys keeps coming in. This is the third time this week," Bud said.

Maisie sighed. "What does he look like?"

"Brown hair, tall-ish, weird German accent-"

"Fucks sake," Maisie groaned and rubbed the side of her head.

"Problem?" Bud asked in a sickly sweet voice.

"None at all," Maisie faked a smile. "Now fuck off. You're like a damn disease, I can already feel myself getting infected - Jesus just go!"

 When Bud made no move to get away, Maisie picked up the bottle of window cleaner and sprayed it violently at Bud. The man stumbled backwards with a shocked face before running away down the street.

"You better run, bitch!" Maisie squirted cleaner into the air again before hearing the jingle of the bakery door being opened.

"Being nice to the neighbours I see," Logan commented as he crossed his arms and leaned against the door frame.

"Slacking off again I see," Maisie retorted and Logan held up his hands.

"I'm not slacking off," he said defensively.

"Then why don't I see a wooden spoon in your hand and flour all over your face?" Maisie asked.

"I'm allergic to baking."

"Of course you are," Maisie breathed and picked up the now dirty cloth from the window sill.

She walked past Logan and into her bakery, pushing the cleaning appliances into the cupboard behind the counter. She wiped her hands together and and spun around to face Logan who was leaning his hip against the side of a table.

"Are you high?" Maisie asked bluntly.

Logan rolled his eyes with a huff. "No Maisie, I'm not high."

She gave him a look before slowly nodding and reaching down to grab a plate. Logan watched with confusion when she came from the back of the counter with a slice of lemon cake - the same type she gave him before. She placed it down on the table and held the fork out for Logan to take.

"I said I wasn't high," he said slowly.

"Well I guess you don't want this then," Maisie pulled the fork away and Logan snapped, grabbing it quickly.

"I'm hungry, not high," Logan mumbled as he devoured half the cake.

"Uh huh," Maisie humoured him.

The kitchen doors opened up and a flustered Charity came walking out. She was halfway through undoing her apron and finally slipped the pink fabric off her body.

"I'm clocking off," she told Maisie. "You don't need me for anything extra, do you?"

Maisie shook her head. "No, you're all good. Have a good night."

Charity smiled and slung her bag over her shoulder. "Thanks."

"Is Andrew still back there?" Maisie asked.

Charity frowned then nodded. "Yeah, he's cleaning up with Nick."

Maisie didn't comment any further. How many brown haired, German men from her bakery could possibly be going to Bud's? Oh wait, just one. Why Andrew had continuously been going there all week was a mystery to Maisie and also when he was somehow getting time to head over was another. Their breaks weren't that long. But then again, he could be like Logan and slack off consistently because according to the society-hating blonde; 'working an every day job just fits us all into the role that society wants us to slot into. I rebel against that idea. So in my fight for righteousness, I don't work'.

When Charity had left the bakery, Maisie looked to Logan who was finishing up the last bit of his lemon cake. When he was done he stood up and kicked his feet up, promptly going to sleep.

"Hey," Maisie snapped. "Stop wasting my time, go clean up your plate."

Logan popped one eye open. "You're cute when you're angry. It's like a chihuahua getting annoyed because they wanted to be carried in the magenta purse, not the crimson one."

Maisie just blew out a breath of air in frustration and headed towards the kitchen doors, pushing them open and letting them flop shut behind her. Inside, Nick was soaping down bowls before sliding some into the dishwasher and Andrew was wiping down the countertops. Maisie walked over to Andrew and stopped beside him.

The brunette looked up from the table and smiled at Maisie.

"Hey," he grinned. "I'm nearly done here."

"It's okay," Maisie said. "Um...were you at Bud's at all this week?"

"Bud's?" Andrew asked with a gulp. "Like that bakery you don't like down the street?"

"Bingo," Maisie answered.

Andrew shrugged. "No, never been."

Maisie narrowed her eyes. "Not at all? Not even once? What about that time you left during break because there was no AC?"

Andrew raised an eyebrow. "Alright, Detective Small, chill out. I haven't been over to their bakery at all. Why would I?"

Well the whole point of this conversation was for you to tell me but okay.

"Doesn't matter, just checking," she smiled and Andrew gave her an uneasy one as he watched her walk away.

She stopped before she reached the door though and Andrew's heart got stuck in his throat. She turned around and frowned, opening her mouth to talk but then stopped and looked around the room.

"Where the fuck is Keith?"

***

There was a knock on his door and Keith jogged over, barefoot, towards the door. He shared the small place with Andrew and Logan and Nick shared the one next door. They were lucky that they were looking for a place just as the apartment block went up and managed to place down their money in time to get two side by side.

The four of them weren't doing bad on money, especially since Logan's parents were rich fuckers but the apartments weren't cheap so sharing was easier. They'd been living there for two years now when Keith was in his last year of college.

Keith opened up the door and stepped aside to let Charity in. She had her jacket folded over her arm and her bag hanging off her shoulder. The short heels of her shoes clacked against the hardwood ground as she looked over the open-space apartment.

"This place is amazing," she said and stopped in front of the wall of pure glass window. Charity could practically see the whole of Tucson from the apartment.

"Thanks," Keith said and walked to the kitchen off to Charity's left. He brought up a bottle of wine and two glasses, holding them up with a raised eyebrow.

"Legally I can't drink for another three years," Charity said with a small smile.

Keith grinned. "Then let's not tell anyone."

When the glasses were filled they clinked them together and the both took a large gulp of the red liquid. The maturity of the setting immediately reminded Charity of the age difference between the two of them. Five years didn't seem like much when it was the number alone but when an eighteen year old was paired with a twenty-three year old, it was starting to fuck with both their minds.

An hour later, the two of them were sitting on the floor between the fridge and the island in the kitchen. Keith leaned his head against the vibrating fridge, his third glass of wine in his hand. He sipped it idly and Charity stared down at her fourth as she leaned back against the counter.

The sun was very slowly falling down and Charity should have been enthralled by the view as Keith was. She should have been staring out the window, glass of wine in hand and a smile on her face. She should have been mature. But instead she put her glass on the floor and surged forward, pressing her lips to Keith's.

Keith gripped his glass tighter so it wouldn't spill and rested a hand on Charity's hip to steady her. Her kissed her back slowly but after a few seconds, he knew something wasn't right. He pulled his face away and stared at Charity's. She wasn't drunk but her eyes were glazed over with something else and the hand on her hip slid up to her shoulder.

"Charity," Keith said. "Charity, come back to me. Something's wrong, come on."

She blinked once then twice then leaned back a little. Her eye twitched and she slowly brought her hands down from Keith's biceps. She looked at her fingers on his arms and gulped. Keith smiled at her fondly.

"You're still thinking of him even when you're here with me," he said.

"I don't have feelings for him anymore," Charity said fiercely.

"Never said you did," Keith murmured. "But he bothers you when you don't want him to. He's in your thoughts when you want him out. He's still there now, in that pretty little head of yours."

Charity leaned further back until she was sat against the counter once more. She picked up her glass and finished the rest of the wine in it.

"I think..." Keith continued then put his glass down on the ground. "I think that your ex screwed you up more than you'd like to admit."

Charity stared at him head on until she realized that her vision was blurring up and then she felt a hot dampness drip down her cheek. Her eyes stung and her head grew heavy.

"I should have seen it coming," she said quietly.

"Bullshit," Keith said. "Everyone says that. If you saw it coming then you wouldn't be this torn up about it. He cheated on you right?"

Charity nodded mutely and wiped her arm across her cheeks. "With his math tutor," she choked out a laugh. "I used to wait until his hours were up with his tutor then I would walk over to his house and greet her as she left. I used to say hello and goodbye to her right after she'd been sleeping with my boyfriend. And you know what she did? She just smiled at me and walked away, as if I already meant nothing. Like a piece of dust she needed to brush off."

Keith watched Charity carefully until that one lone tear turned into multiple ones falling down at different rates along her face. She was a silent crier, he noted.

"He was an asshole," she said, "and I knew that. He was one of those stupid bad boy types. The one with the leather jacket and the black jeans. He was a smoker too which was just another brownie point for me then. I always attract those types of guys, or more I'm attracted to them. They never seem to really give a crap about me."

Keith tapped his finger against his thigh and looked at the girl in front of him. "My advice?" he said. "Don't go looking for a guy. Don't go out there and drop yourself onto the next guy you see with a leather jacket and a cigarette hanging from his mouth. Wait. You're pretty, Charity, beautiful even. And a guy will see you and he will fight for you. You've done enough chasing and pining and fighting for men that don't give two shits about you. Now you have to make them the ones that fight for you."

Charity looked down at her hands. "What about my unhealthy attraction to bad boys?"

"Bad boys can be nice guys too," Keith smiled a little. "Your ex wasn't a bad boy, he was a bad guy. And yes, there is a difference."

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- Tahlie x