Crochet My Heart

CHARLIE LOOKED around the empty hall at the leftover Halloween decorations that hadn’t yet been taken down. The chairs he’d set out in a semicircle mocked him with their emptiness.

This was the first week; people needed time to get to know about the class. At least that was what he kept telling himself as he rose to start packing up the table of supplies he’d laboriously laid out.

The door opening had him spinning around in surprise. The welcome he’d been planning to offer stuck in his throat, and his mouth dropped open at the sight of the man entering the hall.

The man pulled off a blue knitted hat to reveal the brightest ginger hair Charlie had ever seen. Thin wire glasses perched on a pale nose covered in freckles. A hesitant smile hovered on soft-looking lips. The sound of a throat clearing had Charlie looking up, and he felt heat creeping up his cheeks when he met the man’s gaze.

“Um, how can I help?” Damn, now he sounded like a preteen before his voice broke.

“Is this the right place for the crocheting class? I know I’m late. The bus didn’t show up, so I had to wait for the next one. My car is in the shop. Have I already missed it?”

Charlie shook his head and silently told himself to get his head out of his backside.

“No, no, no. You haven’t missed it. This is the first class and… um… well… you’re the first to arrive. Please, come in. I’m Charlie. Tell me about yourself. How did you hear about the class?”

The blinding smile he received froze him in place, and he nearly missed the next comment.

“My name is Tristan, and my sister’s husband volunteers at this center. She told me about this class when I called her and complained about failing at a project I’d started.”

While he spoke, Tristan removed his coat and took a seat near the table of supplies Charlie had set out.

Charlie gave himself yet another shake to regain his wits. He headed to the table and left one spare seat between himself and Tristan. He didn’t want to crowd the hottest man he’d met in a while.

“So what project are you having trouble with?”

Tristan wouldn’t meet his gaze and seemed to be talking to the ground between his knees, where his hands were hanging.

“I sort of, maybe, kinda agreed to make a few crocheted items for a Christmas fair a charity I volunteer for is holding. My gran used to make things all the time, and she made it look easy. But I’ve since worked out it’s not as easy as she made it look. I have six weeks to make enough Christmas items to cover half a six-foot table. The more items, the better. We need to raise enough money to save the building we’re in. Now I am left wondering how I will make good on my promise. Give me a set of accounts and I’ll do your taxes in no time. Not so when it comes to making things.”

Charlie suppressed a smile. It seemed Tristan had his heart in the right place.