AN: hi guys! Sorry I took longer to update. I had my braces taken off you see... Anyway, this is chapter 2! A lot of this story is Sam's PoV, though I might add Charlie's PoV too at some point. Enjoy and review!

...and I stared into those blue eyes I knew only too well. A name escaped my mouth.

"Charlie."

He smiled and said, "Hey Sam."

I made sure he wasn't smiling for too long, I got so angry I started hitting him, "WHERE... THE... HELL... WERE... YOU? DO... YOU... KNOW HOW... MUCH... I... MISSED...YOU? YOU... INCONSIDERATE... LITTLE... COCKROACH!" I hit him with every word I said, and he took my beating without saying anything. I stopped hitting him and sat there, fuming. I looked at him from the corner of my eye, and I felt bad, because he looked genuinely sad. Maybe he had wanted to come back, but maybe he couldn't.

I stretched my arms out and he flinched back but realised I was only reaching out to hug him, so he put his arms around my waist and I put mine around his shoulders. He kept whispering that he was sorry and he missed me. I whispered back, "I'm sorry I lashed out at you. I just missed you." He hugged me tighter than he had been, sighed and said, "I missed you too. I'm sorry I didn't meet you. It's just, whenever I came, you were never there. And then this publisher really liked my book, and I got busy with the marketing and writing more books. So, about two months back, I decided to move closer to home, so I moved here last month."

"Best decision you ever made." I said, and he laughed. We parted and sat in silence for some time. My eyes wandered around the living room, and settled on the coffee table. I saw a typewriter on the table with a paper in it, and I saw a bunch of papers lying next to it. The typewriter looked a lot like the one I gifted him at Christmas. Charlie saw me looking at it and said, "Do you remember that night in your room, on Christmas?" I remembered. I remembered everything, when I gave him that typewriter, and when we kissed, I didn't know why, but thinking about it made butterflies flutter in my stomach.

I nodded, and said, "Of course I remember. Is this the typewriter I gave you?"

"Yeah, I had to get it fixed a couple of times, but I still love it. I wrote my all my books on it. It still works great."

"Are you working on something new?"

"Yeah, I'm just putting some ideas together. It's my first draft for "The Slut and The Falcon"." I laughed, he couldn't have meant it.

"Seriously?"

"Yeah. I'm gonna make you solve crimes. It's my first thriller novel."

"Oh my god. You're crazy, do you know that?"

"I know that." He replied, and we laughed. There was a knock on the door and Charlie went to open it. He came back with an old man, the doctor.

"Hello. What seems to be the problem?"

Charlie told him what happened and and sat on the love-seat, and I used him as a backrest. The doctor checked my foot, and it hurt so much. I groaned and grabbed Charlie's shirt, and he held me around my shoulders.

The doctor was quiet for some time. He said, "I think you have broken your foot. But we need an X-Ray as soon as possible so that we know for sure. And young man, you need to take her to a bedroom, she can't stay here! Come to the hospital when you get the X-Ray, she might need a plaster." Charlie nodded and went out with the doctor. He came back and without saying anything carried me upstairs. He took me to a bedroom with a white bed and an TV on the opposite wall.

"Is this your room?"

"Yeah. I would have gone to the guest room, but I don't have one. It's a two-bedroom house. There's a study right next to this room. But don't worry, I'll take the couch."

"I'm not letting you sleep on the couch! You can sleep here if you don't have an extra bedroom."

"But Sam..."

"Charlie, I am not going to let you sleep on the couch. Deal with it."

"Fine."

We talked all afternoon. He told me a lot about his life after he left. College was very good, he got a full academic scholarship, and he wrote his first novel in his senior year. He soon got published and wrote a bunch of other novels. He said he liked Canada, but at times he got really homesick, but he didn't come back, he stayed and worked and pretended everything was okay, because that was the thing to do (I swear these were his exact words).

"What about your love life?"

"What about it?"

"You know, girlfriends?"

"Uh...well... I don't know... I dated a lot of girls, but no one ever seemed to..."

"Connect?"

"Yeah, something like that."

"So, how did you decide to move here?"

"Things just got really crazy there, it got too much to handle. The weather, the people, all that French, overbearing publishers, my crappy house, everything. I needed a change, and I needed to be closer to home, to everyone I love, so I bought this house and moved."

"Yeah, I know what that's like. That's kind of why I moved here, too."

"That's everything I had to tell. What about you?"

"Well... I graduated from Penn State and lived with my parents for a while, you were gone by the time I came. I waited for you for nine months but you didn't come. Patrick moved to San Francisco, he works for a record label there. He met a nice guy too, they moved in together a while back. He wants to start a label of his own soon. Well, I lived with my parents for a while, but like you said things got really crazy. I didn't have anything to do, you weren't there, Patrick moved away, everything. So I figured things out and got a job here, when I told my parents we had a big fight, so I didn't speak to them again after that. Eventually I got an apartment, and things got better. Then I met a guy, and we moved in after dating for two years. We lived together for another two years. I sold my apartment five months ago, it was probably the biggest mistake I ever made."

"Why?"

"We broke up today. And he told me to leave." Charlie looked really angry. I probably shouldn't have told him I didn't have a place to stay.

"Hey, don't be mad. I'll get better and work and when I can afford my apartment, I'll buy it back. Relax, Charlie."

"You're staying with me till you get better and get your house back. Not just tonight." I didn't think I could win if I argued with him, so I agreed. We talked some more and he made pasta for dinner. It was really good. We watched a movie, and by the time we were done, it was one in the morning.

"Okay, Sam. I think we should sleep. We have to get your X-Ray done tomorrow. Take some rest."

I made a puppy dog face and said like a kid, "Okay mommy." He chuckled and climbed in beside me. I turned my head to face him, he was looking at me. I had a giddy feeling, sleeping in the same bed with him, which I was going to do for a while. There was a small gap between our faces and I wondered what would it be like if I closed it. I shook that thought out of my head, I couldn't do it. He put his hand on my cheek and leaned in and kissed my forehead, and said, "Goodnight Sam."

"Goodnight." He turned so his back was facing me, and I closed my eyes, and fell asleep in an instant.

I woke up next morning, and it took me a minute to remember what happened. I met Charlie after years yesterday, broke my foot and slept with him (not that way! Perverts). I looked to my side, he wasn't there. I sat up with some difficulty and he entered with a tray.

"Good morning." He said and smiled.

I smiled and said good morning.

"How's your foot?"

"Bad."

"Okay. Here, have some breakfast we'll go get your foot fixed. How'd you sleep?"

"Pretty good. How about you?"

"I slept well." He said simply. We had breakfast, talked some, and he took the dishes and went out of the room. He came back in a couple of minutes later, and I said, "Um, Charlie? Can you help me go to the bathroom?" A look of understanding washed over his face, and he nodded. He came over to the bed, and gently lifted my foot up and placed it on the carpeted floor carefully, but it still hurt. He sat down next to me and put one arm around my back, and one arm around my front. I put my arm around his shoulder, and he tightened his grip and lifted me up, and I held his shoulder blade with my free hand for extra support. As he helped me up, I felt his nose and lips brush against my cheek, I turned my head to face him and his lips brushed mine so slightly I thought I could have been mistaken. But I knew his lips too well to be mistaken. We stared into each other's eyes for a couple of seconds. He looked away awkwardly and walked me to the bathroom. He supported me while I brushed my teeth and we somehow managed to get me into the shower. I hated being so helpless and dependent, but the fact that I was this way with Charlie made me feel better. I guess that's because he's my best friend.

We got the X-Ray done, even I could see I had broken my foot pretty bad, and I was no doctor. Charlie had a worried look on his face. He said, "That doesn't look very good. God, Sam. You could've been more careful." We went to the hospital, and he insisted that I go on a wheelchair. Walking that much was a stupid idea, so I agreed reluctantly.

The doctor looked concerned. He said, "Your fracture will take at least a month and a half to heal, and you have another two weeks of bed rest after that. I'll give you a plaster, and I can tell your..."

"Best friend." I filled in.

"Yes, I can give your best friend all the things he needs to keep in mind. I'm prescribing you a painkiller if it hurts too much, but it's only SOS..." He explained everything we needed to take care of, and gave me the plaster. The process was excruciating, I almost tore Charlie's shirt, I was holding it so tight. His arm never left my shoulders. I was wheeled back to the parking lot, and we drove home. I leaned heavily on Charlie, and he helped me limp to his apartment. I asked him if I could rest on the sofa, but he said no.

"But I'll get bored!"

"I'm sorry you find my company boring."

"You're going to stay with me?"

"Of course, what did you think?"

"Oh, don't you have to work or something?"

"I can bring my work to the room."

"Oh."

He picked me up and carried me back to the bedroom. He put me down on the bed and put a cushion underneath my plastered foot. He went out and a couple of minutes later came back with his typewriter and a stack of papers. We didn't talk much, but it was still nice to know someone was there. I remembered something and saw Charlie looking at me with a questioning look.

"I don't have any clothes."

"What?"

"Charlie, all my stuff is at that guy's place. I was supposed to pick it up today, but you know...circumstances." I couldn't bring myself to say his name out loud. It didn't feel right.

"Don't worry, I'll get it. Give me his address."

"Are you sure? I mean...he might..."

"Think you hooked up with another guy that fast? Honestly, I couldn't care less, but if you want me to explain then I'll tell him about your circumstances."

"Okay." We smiled at each other. I gave him the address and he left. I rested my head against the headboard, and fell asleep.

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*Three weeks later*

I had been living in extremely close proximity with Charlie. We slept in the same bed, cuddled when my foot hurt, and had take out food and ice cream with movies we didn't watch. At times I would wake up at night in extreme pain, and he would comfort me by hugging me close to his body, and rubbing soothing circles on my back, and it actually made me feel better, and at times I would fall asleep in his arms, and wake up to find us as tangled as two people could be when one of them had a broken foot. Even though my foot was broken and I couldn't do anything without help, I was very happy, because I got to be that close to Charlie. I know it's a funny reason, but I couldn't help it. I just really liked being close to him. He took great care of all my needs, gave me my medicines on time, left anything he was doing to talk to me when I was bored.

We sometimes had moments when our faces were very close to each other, and my want, no, my need to close the distance between us increased. I wondered and daydreamed for hours, thinking about his lips on mine, kissing me hungrily and me kissing him back with equal passion, his hands all over me and my hands all over him. I didn't know why I was thinking about doing things like that with him, he was my best friend, but I had no control over my thoughts.

Charlie walked in and sat beside me on the edge of the bed.

"Hi. How're you doing?" He asked.

"I'm better, it still hurts though. I'm trying to convince myself that it's all part of the healing process." He laughed and was getting up to leave.

I stopped him and said, "Thank you, Charlie." He didn't say anything. We looked at each other. He started to lean in and I lost control over my body, I leaned in and he pressed his lips to mine, and I put my hand on his cheek. We held the position for some moments, and he pulled away, smiled and left me sitting on the bed, not being able to think anything but one question.

What just happened?

AN: I don't know if it qualifies as a cliffhanger, but I'm pretty happy with this chapter. PLEASE REVIEW MY STORIES! REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW!