“Aaron fucking Larsen,” the woman said.
“Charlie,” he said, staring at her face. She was still pretty, but she’d lost that fresh-faced look she’d had in high school. Her face was thinner now. A woman’s face, instead of a girl’s. “Holy shit. Charlie.”
She stepped forward and embraced him. Her red hair was pulled back in a messy ponytail. She smelled like fryer oil and greasy food. “I just found out you were back in town, you ass. Why the hell didn’t you come find me?”
He’d never been able to lie to Charlie. “Because I’m a fucking mess.”
“Oh, trust me,” she said, “there is nothing going on in my life that puts me in any position to judge.” She stepped past him, a plastic bag swinging from her hand.
“What’s that?”