The Rom-Commers

by Katherine Center

“Look at how he leans in,” I said, as Ji Chang Wook bent his head lower. “Pretty sure that’s

the exact geometrical angle of maximum yearning.” “How many times have you watched this clip?” But this wasn’t about me.

Not if your heart is a suicidal bird.” “Now I’m regretting telling you that.”

What about Liza McGee? She’s cute.” Charlie could not disguise his horror. “She’s, like, nineteen!” I shrugged. “That’s legal enough.”

“What about your ex-wife?” “What!” “You’ve kissed her before,” I said, like No big deal. “You have lost your mind.”

“You just said nobody would understand this except for another writer. And I think you already know this, but, just in case”—I pointed at myself—“I am another writer.”

u wanna kiss him soo bad

“Five minutes of kissing?” Charlie said, like I’d just proposed we run a marathon.

“I had no idea that I was such a revolting option.”

me n her always the victims

“I didn’t want to kiss you—” he started. “Yeah. I got that. Thank you.” But Charlie gave a sharp headshake, like I hadn’t let him finish. “For research.” I held very still. “I didn’t want to kiss you for research,” Charlie said again, watching me to see if I got it. Did I get it? Neither of us was sure. Charlie gave it another second—waiting for my expression to shift into understanding. But I was afraid to understand. What if I got it wrong?

So Charlie gave up on the waiting. Instead, he cradled my face in his hands and tilted me up to meet his eyes. Then he shifted his gaze from my eyes to my mouth, and he wasn’t just looking, he was seeing. It was like he was taking in everything about my mouth—from color, to texture, to shape. It was physical, like it had a force, and I swear I could feel it, like he was brushing the skin of my lips with nothing but the intensity of his gaze. And then he leaned in closer, staying laser-focused on this one place right in front of him. The anticipation was excruciating. I watched his mouth as he leaned closer. And then, just as we touched, he brought his hand into my hair to hold me close.

And I stretched my arms up around his neck. And the kiss just took over. His mouth felt smooth and firm and soft all at once, and the warmth and tenderness of it all swirled together with my dawning understanding that this was happening—Charlie Yates was kissing me. And a dreamy eupho...

Charlie said, with a slow nod, “I get it now.” “Get what?” I asked.

Charlie met my eyes. “Why we’re rewriting this story.”

SCREAMING YESSSSSYEYYYES

“If human relationships worked like that, I’d be out of a job.”

Charlie was quiet a second, and I realized he was suppressing a smile. “I’m glad I bought them for you, then.”

and then he took his top-of-the-line phone and fully pelted it across the yard.

Charlie turned at the sound of my voice, like he’d forgotten I even existed, and then came straight at me so fast I took a few steps backward, before he grabbed hold of me in a suffocating hug—and held on and didn’t let go for a long time, pulling in big breaths and pushing them out—that felt more like

he was clinging to me for dear life than anything else.

“Some guy called Jack Stapleton an overpaid hack.” “So you just hit him?” “I meant to verbally spar with him,” Charlie said, “but he wasn’t much of a wordsmith.” “You tried for a battle of wits in a bar.” “It escalated quickly.” “Charlie,” I said. “You’re such a dummy.”

“You always say people falling on each other isn’t romantic—but then it always is.” His bloody face. His puffy eye. The scrapes on his cheek. The smell of liquor and other people’s cigarettes. “Nothing about this is romantic,” I said. But I wasn’t sure if I was telling the truth. “That’s debatable,” Charlie said, tripping a little over the syllables.

“There are no words for how much I don’t care.”

using this from now on

“I think,” he said, surprisingly lucid for a moment, “that you’re my favorite person I’ve ever met.” “Oh,” I said, looking back down. “That’s very nice of you.”

“And I’ve met”—and here, less lucid, he made a big, drunk gesture—“everybody. In the world. And you’re my favorite. Out of all seven billion.”

At that—at Charlie Yates using the f-word against our beautiful, ethereal, life-changing kiss—I stepped back.

shes me

You, uh … You just, uh … You just get back to work.

“I’m coming to get you.” “Don’t do that, Charlie. You’re afraid of this thing.” “I’m more afraid of you falling off it.” “I’m not going to fall.”

And then Charlie surprised me by saying, “You look fucking incredible.”

“I’m not drunk,” I said. “I just drank too much.” “That’s the literal definition of being drunk.” “Why are you so argumentative?” “Why won’t you come here?” “Because,” I said. “I don’t want to.”

“You looked!” Charlie said, like I was a cheater. “You yelped!” I countered, like he was a troublemaker.

“It’s a hell of a dress,” Charlie said, in protest.

“Are we parsing verbs now?”

“See? Easy! We’re good. I could walk a straight line right now. I could do a cartwheel. I could take the SAT.”

But I guess Sylvie had had enough of being called a murderer for now. There was a funny half pause. And then Sylvie said, “If my trip to the beach kills our father,” Sylvie said, “we’ll be even. Because your trip to the mountains killed our mom.”

“OOF,” THE UBER driver said as the line went dead. “That was harsh.”

The next day, after Sylvie relieved me of my shift, I was heading home to change clothes after more hours than I cared to count, when I arrived at our apartment door to see someone sitting beside it, elbows resting on knees, head bent, like he’d been there a while. Charlie.

OH MY GOSH.

“Whatever story you tell yourself about your life, that’s the one that’ll be true.”

“Here’s another thing I accidentally figured out: happiness is always better with a little bit of sadness.”

“I forgive you.” And as soon as I said the words, I felt them.

But I guess this was a teachable moment. If you wait for other people to light you up, then I guess you’re at the mercy of darkness.

“it’s about two screenwriters who write a script together and fall wildly in love.”

WHATTTTT

“If I were in love with her, I would.” I blinked. “He’s not in love with me,” I said. “He told me he wasn’t.” But as we pulled up to the Biltmore valet, Logan just said, “I can’t believe you fell for that, either.”

“After he’s dead.”

UR KIDDING

“You’re not going to believe this,” Charlie went on, “but I knew on that first day that I was going to fall for you. You hadn’t been yelling at Logan in my front yard for even sixty seconds before I knew. I felt it. I called it! It was so predictable.” He took a minute to rub his eyes. Then he went on, “I like you like crazy, Emma. I didn’t

even know it was possible to like another person this much.” He shook his head. “And up until today, I wanted nothing more than to make you like me, too.” He frowned, like he was thinking. “Maybe this is my punishment. Maybe you were right about self-fulfilling prophecies. All I know is, I really don’t want to die. And the reason I don’t want to die is because I just want more time with you.”

“I’m so sorry, Emma,” he said then. “I would write a hundred happy endings for us if I could.”

And then Charlie turned off his phone, dropped it back into his pocket, put his head down on the podium, and cried. For a good while. Charlie Men-Don’t-Cry Yates … cried. At a podium. In a tuxedo. In front of three hundred people. Hands clutching either side of the dais, shoulders shaking, breaths and chokes and cries finding their way straight into the microphone and filling the room with the amplified sounds—making it feel strangely like it was happening to all of us, too. Like we were all crying, in a way. But only one of us knew why.

“You said I was a hypochondriac.” “You are a hypochondriac.” “But you said it in a mean way.” Charlie lowered his head. “I’m sorry.”

“I’m so in love with you,” Charlie said then, his breath against my ear. “It’s terrible.” And so I said, “We’re gonna need a better word for terrible.”

Though my dad has never stopped calling Jack “Jake Singleton.” And Jack never corrects him.

DID CHARLIE AND I wind up going to the Olympics for line dancing and taking the gold for the USA? Well, since there is no line dancing at the Olympics,