Disclaimer: I don't own it

If you haven't already fallen in love with Uncle Charlie.. you will now. Sorry it took me so long but better late than never right?

Chapter Fourteen

Brown Eyes POV

I'll be damned.

Stalkerboy convinced me into getting in his car. I try not to look at the giant swollen and split flesh that was once his bottom lip because for the first time ever, I regret hitting someone. I won't apologize, but that doesn't mean I don't feel bad for splitting his face open like that.

Maybe I should seek anger management.

The drive to Uncle Charlie's house is silent. Stalkerboy merely had me punch the address into his high tech GPS system on the console and then he fell silent. Every now and again I can see him flexing his mouth out of the corner of my eye, wincing painfully each time.

Remorse is a cruel bitch.

I want to say something, but I'm almost sure that he's gonna snap on me. Hell, I'd snap on the chick I was driving home after she popped me in the mouth, even if I deserved it because I was an ass.

The second he hit the floor when I punched him, he made this weird moan sound. I was too angry at the moment to think about the possibility that I'd caused him brain damage. I'm not a doctor, but he looked alright when we were standing under the streetlight. His eyes were clear and he didn't stutter, so I deemed him able to drive.

I reach out and turn the heater down because I feel like I'm boiling in my skin. He's still quiet.

I think I broke my smart mouthed Stalkerboy.

Insert pouty duck face.

Uncle Charlie is still sitting on the front porch watching some boxing match. He's bundled up on his old lawn chair, holding a small ten inch screen TV with a giant antenna attached because he's too cheap to pay for cable.

It's his fault that bitch a few weeks ago is still walking around with yellow hued eye sockets and Stalkerboy will definitely be sporting a busted face for a while. Uncle Charlie took me in when my parents deemed me unreachable in junior high and decided to give me the Mr. Miyagi treatment. Instead of karate, he was trying to turn me into the next ultimate fighter or something. I learned to take care of myself, using my fists, but my temper wasn't good for the mats.

I broke his dream.

He looks up for a second as Stalkerboy pulls into the driveway, but it only lasts a second before he's back to yelling at the screen. Stalkerboy doesn't say anything, so I begin writing off the whole date.

"Thanks for dinner." I reach for the door handle. "Um... put some ice on that when you get home. Night."

He nods once in indication and dabs his lip with a McDonald's napkin.

I exit the car feeling all sorts of bad for myself because I possibly fucked up a good thing. Uncle Charlie waves at the car behind me as it pulls out of the driveway.

"How'd it go, kiddo?" he asks, setting his TV on the table beside his chair. "I didn't scare him off by being out here, did I?"

"No. Why would you scare him off?" I sit next to him and grab his bottle of moonshine.

"Well back in my day, a gentleman escorted a lady to her door after a date." He wags his drunken eyebrows at me. "And if they were lucky, they got a smooch or two."

"That might have been possible had I not punched the shit out of him in the middle of McDonalds," I shrug and take a sip from the bottle.

"What you do that for?" he hiccups. "I mean. You like him."

I nod. "I did until he made a crass comment. I punched him on instinct. Split his lip wide open and knocked his ass on the floor."

"We need to buy you a punching bag," Uncle Charlie giggles, slapping my knee. "You're too violent."

"Says the man that's getting all slap happy." I pinch his hand and stand up. "Well I guess that's it then. I'm going to bed. I'll see you in the morning."

He nods and picks up his portable television.

I stand there for a second and watch him get back into the fight or whatever the hell he's watching.

"What?" I finally snap. "Aren't you going to give me some ancient words of fucking wisdom? Tell me what to do to fix this situation that I royally fucked up. How do I make it right?"

He clicks his little television off and gathers his blankets before he stands. Walking over to the door, he turns around and stares at me for a second.

"Well?" I throw my hands in the air.

"You can start by watching your attitude and learning a little patience," he slurs, shrugging drunkenly. "Or you could turn around."

"What?" I turn around and find absolutely nothing.

"Haha! You dope!" Uncle Charlie giggles, stumbling over himself as he enters the house. "You thought the boy would be here."

"You're a fucking asshole."

He takes a minute to mimic my panicked face poorly. I walk past him and stomp up the stairs to my bedroom.

"I hate you!" I slam the door. "Sooo much!"

"Grow up, kiddo," he giggles, stumbling up the stairs in his drunken stupor. "Act your age, not your hat size."

"Hat size?" I open the door to find him leaning against the wall next to the staircase.

"Hat size," he nods. "Isn't that how the saying goes?"

"No, you idiot. It's shoe size." I help him to his room, allowing him to lean his fat arm over my shoulders. He stops before shutting the door.

His face grows serious. "He might be immature, but he's the first thing to make you genuinely happy since I picked you up in Phoenix. Don't mess it up."

It's a little too late for that now. Isn't it?

Soooo, the date is over. I wanna hear about your worst date ever. Mine's actually mentioned in one of my older stories. I hope you liked it and I'll see you all Monday :)

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