Pitbabe S2, Chapter 9 pg3

 Pitbabe S2, Chapter 9 pg3

   I had no idea how much time had passed, but judging by the dwindling pile of grapes on the plate, it was definitely more than a couple of minutes. It had become routine for Charlie to ramble on about something I barely understood for what felt like forever. I didn’t need to offer any opinions—just look at him, hold his gaze, nod every few minutes. If I wasn’t feeling too lazy, I might throw in a response like, “Really?” “Oh,” or “I’ll check it out later.” That was enough to keep the conversation going. As long as I didn’t interrupt and let him talk about whatever he was passionate about, he could go on for days.

   “There might be a world where I’m an athlete, you know. When I was a kid, I wanted to be a basketball player. Imagine, in ten or twenty years, if someone makes quantum time flips a reality, I could see a version of myself as an NBA star. Hmm… but in that world, I’d probably be twenty centimeters taller. Would that still count as me, though?”

   I loved it. Even though I usually didn’t understand a word of what Charlie was saying, I loved listening to him. Sometimes I’d just watch his lips move as he talked and munched on grapes, his eyes sparkling, occasionally pushing his glasses up because his animated expressions made them slide down his nose. I loved how he cared so deeply and passionately about the things around him, how he could describe them so vividly, like he was painting a picture. If anyone said Charlie wasn’t a good talker, I’d say they just brought up the wrong topic.

   “And there might be a world where Babe is a doctor. If time flips were real, would Babe want to meet himself in another world?”

   Here it comes—the question.

   “I think…” I looked at the bespectacled kid from head to toe. On days like this, when we didn’t have to go anywhere, Charlie would wear an oversized t-shirt and shorts, making him look even younger than he was. He didn’t look like the serious master’s student or the driven social project leader at all. If you said he was an undergrad still asking his parents for pocket money, that’d be more believable. “…if I turned off the AC right now and you took your shirt off while talking, it’d be a lot more interesting.”

   “Babe.”

   “What? It’d be sexy and educational.”

   Charlie laughed and shook his head lightly. He was probably used to me not fully grasping the things he was passionate about, but I was glad he still chose to share them with me. It felt like an adult trying to tell a bedtime story to a kid who didn’t yet understand the language. The kid might not get what a prince or princess is, but having their parents sit with them, holding them close, speaking in excited tones with animated expressions—at the very least, the kid would feel their care. That’s what I thought, anyway.

   Unless I was just being my usual self-deluded self, I’d say Charlie did it because he loved me.

   “If that quantum dimension stuff you’re talking about is real… do you think there’d be a world where you don’t like me?” That was probably the most I’d managed to grasp from his ramblings. I asked him as I lay down, resting my head on the lap of the talkative guy.

   “You want the truth, or the cute version?”

   “The cute version.”

   “There’s no way, of course. How could there be a world where I don’t like Babe?”

   “And the truth?”

   “Still no. No matter how many worlds there are, I’d like you in every single one.”

   “Dean’s the one you didn’t help with his research on this stuff, huh?”

   Charlie laughed delightedly, one hand gently ruffling my hair while the other reached for the last grape to feed me. It was his favorite kind of grape, the ones I always kept stocked in the fridge—sweet, crisp red grapes, chilled to perfection. My young boyfriend was always in a good mood whenever he ate them. It was a tiny thing, but it made our day almost perfect. Plus, we hadn’t fought once since waking up.

   “But, like, I can’t even imagine you not liking me,” I said.

   “Of course not. How could Babe possibly imagine that?” Charlie replied, lightly massaging my temples. “If you can still picture it after all this, I don’t know what to say.”

   “But can you imagine it? Like, a day when you don’t like me or even hate me?”

   “Nope.”

   “Not even a little?”

   “Why would I hate Babe?”

   “What if I slept with someone else?”

   “Who?”

   The hand that had been soothingly rubbing my temples froze. His sharp brows knitted together in a split second, and his tone alone sent a chill through me.

   “If,” I emphasized, poking the furrowed space between his brows as if to say, This is hypothetical, you idiot. “Do you even know the word ‘if’?”

   “It sounded like Babe was about to confess to something.”

   “If I actually did it, I wouldn’t confess.”

   “What?”

   “Kidding. I wouldn’t do it, okay?” Charlie’s face scrunched up, but the moment I lightly pinched his cheek, that sulky kid flashed a sweet smile instantly. Such an easy-to-please guy. “So, bottom line, would you hate me?”

   “Hmm… I don’t think so.”

   “Seriously?”

   “Yeah,” the bespectacled boy nodded slowly. The calm certainty in his eyes showed he meant it, not just saying it to make me feel better or to seem cool. “I think I’d be angry and… really hurt.”

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