Chapter Sixteen
Modulation: The act or process of changing from one key (tonic, or tonal center) to another. This may or may not be accompanied by a change in key signature.
Charlie
Damian’s eyes are dark, almost brooding, as he holds my gaze. His words echo through me. It never will.
“You haunt me, Charlie. Everywhere I go, your name is mentioned or one of your songs is playing or pictures of you are on my phone, my computer, my TV.”
“I’m sorry,” I whisper.
His head gives a slight turn, the barest gesture of denial. “Not your fault.” His whisper is as low as mine.
We stare at each other for long moments, and part of me regrets breaking off our kiss. I also consider ending our staring contest by climbing back into his lap and kissing him again. But I don’t.
His hand moves on my thigh again, a soft caress followed by a gentle squeeze. “What do you want, Charlie?”
I suck in a breath, straightening as I consider him, then finally voice the most honest answer I can come up with. “Whatever you’ll give me.”
His eyes fall closed as he absorbs my words. Then his hand moves to the back of my neck, and he pulls me in for another kiss. When his other hand finds my hip, then slides under my ass, I follow the pressure and climb back into his lap, straddling him again.
We stay that way for hours. Kissing, mostly, but pausing to talk, exchange little stories about our time apart. Telling each other the things we’ve missed.
“God, I could kiss you all night,” I confess at one point.
He smiles, his fingers again sliding under my shirt, but never venturing under my bra. “Good. Because that’s kind of what I had in mind.”
I let out a low chuckle, then lean in for another kiss, loving the way his lips and tongue move against mine. Despite my grinding and his questing fingers on my bare skin, we don’t progress beyond a prolonged make-out session.
We eventually move to the bed, where making out turns into snuggling, interspersed with a few more kisses as we whisper to each other late into the night, finally falling asleep with our clothes still on and Damian’s arms wrapped around me, holding my back tightly against his front, his legs curled up under mine.
When I wake up in the morning, I roll over to find him sliding his glasses and shoes back on. He gives me a soft smile and leans over for a quick kiss. “Sorry to wake you. I have class at ten, so I need to head home for a shower and clean clothes before then.”
I stretch, enjoying the heat that flares in his eyes.
He crosses his arms and shakes his head at me, a Cheshire grin on his lips. “Don’t try to distract me like that. It’s not fair.”
With a short laugh, I sit up and reach for my phone on the side table. “No time for a quick breakfast?”
He lets out a sigh. “I’d really love to. But I have a feeling that I wouldn’t make my class if I said yes. And I have a test this morning, so I can’t skip.”
A pang of guilt shoots through me. “And I made it so you couldn’t study last night.”
He shrugs. “It’s music history. If I don’t know it by now, I wouldn’t have gained anything from studying last night anyway.”
I give him a doubtful look, but he doesn’t waver. “Alright. If you say so. At least let me call you an Uber.”
“Charlie, you don’t have to—“
I hold up a hand, cutting him off. “I’m the one who had you shanghaied and brought here last night. The least I can do is pay for your ride home. No arguing.”
“Okay, fine. If you insist.”
“I do.”
I unlock my phone and request a car through the app. When I glance up, Damian has a funny look on his face. I don’t have any drool on my chin, I’d have felt that already. So I run my free hand through my hair, but he keeps staring at me.
“What?” I finally demand. “Is my hair all smooshed? It can’t look worse than it did in the mornings when I had it super short. It always stuck up everywhere then.”
He shakes his head slowly, his arms crossed over his chest. “No. Your hair’s fine. It’s just …”
“What?” I prompt when he trails off and doesn’t seem like he’ll finish his thought.
One shoulder lifts along with a corner of his mouth, but his smile looks rueful. “I thought you wore glasses. It’s weird to see you without them, and obviously you don’t need them. I thought we had that in common, but I guess it’s one more thing that I believed that wasn’t really true.”
My breath leaves me in a gust, his last sentence hitting me like a punch in the gut and paralyzing my diaphragm. After what feels like an eternity with his eyes all dark and sad staring into me, I manage to suck in a breath. “It was part of trying to blend in. Make me look different so no one would recognize me. That’s all,” I finally say softly.
He nods. “Yeah. That makes sense.” His eyes travel over me. “It’s just … strange. You’re so different. But at the same time, you’re almost the same.”
“I am the same.”
He studies me again for another long moment, one side of his mouth hitching in a sad, crooked smile. “No,” he says at last. “You’re not.”
I look away, squeezing my eyes shut, uncertain what to say to that. I’ve already defended myself to him a million times. And still he’s throwing it in my face.
His hand slides over my shoulder, then the bed dips as he sits down beside me. “Charlie, look at me.”
Blinking a few more times to try to clear all the tears, I steel myself before looking him in the eyes again, doing my best to keep my game face on.
He lets out a grunt. “Don’t do that. Don’t shut me out like that. I hate when you do that.”
“What are you talking about?”
“That face. That’s your Charlotte James face. That’s the face you wear when you deflect and avoid instead of being yourself.”
I stare at him, not sure what to do now. “I don’t know what you want from me, Damian. I thought we were moving past what happened, or at least trying to, but if you can’t let it go, then …”
He shakes his head. “No, Charlie. That’s not what I meant. It’s just …” His eyes slide away from mine, and he lets out a frustrated sigh. “It just hit me that you don’t actually need glasses. I wasn’t trying to make you feel bad. But now all those times when you’d take them off and seem to forget about them make a lot more sense.” He tries for a smile, but it doesn’t really work.
I nod, staring at my fingers as I twist them together in my lap.
He moves, drawing my attention as he sits on the edge of the bed and takes off his glasses to scrub his hands over his face. “I’m fucking this all up, aren’t I?”
“No. If that’s how you feel, I mean, I hoped, but … you’re entitled to your feelings. It’s just frustrating to me, because I feel like every time we take a step forward, something happens that knocks us two steps back. And now you have class, and a test, and”—I glance at the app on my phone—“your car is going to be here in two minutes, so you need to get downstairs.”
He replaces his glasses and stands, shoving his hands in his pockets as he looks down at me. “You are different, Charlie. In a lot of ways. You’re more confident now than you were when we first met. You fired your mom, for one thing. And you’ve taken control of your life, which is what you’ve been wanting for a long time. That was part of why you came to Marycliff, but you were hiding there. You’re not hiding now. And I want to get to know you now, all of you, not just the parts you let me see before.”
My breath stutters in my chest, the clash of his words with what I was just thinking making my head spin. I swallow convulsively, trying to control myself enough to respond. “Oh,” I say dumbly, the only thing that comes out.
Damian gives me a crooked smile, then bends down and gives me another kiss, his tongue tasting me all too briefly before he pulls away. “I hate that I have to leave right now.” He’s still bent over so we’re eye to eye. “I’m glad you came. How long are you here?”
“Just the one night. I have to get back. I already rescheduled my meeting with my producer that I was supposed to have this morning. We’re meeting at six tonight instead.”
His eyebrows jump up. “That late?”
I shrug. “He’s a night owl. Says he works best at night anyway. He was actually kinda happy that we didn’t have to meet at nine.”
Damian chuckles. “Call me later. Okay? Tell me all about it then.”
“Okay.”
My hand goes behind his head, and I pull him in for one more goodbye kiss. “I’ll miss you,” I whisper against his lips.
“I’ll miss you too,” he whispers back before he stands. I walk him to the door of the suite, wishing I could walk him all the way downstairs, but that’s not a good idea.
“Talk to you tonight,” I say just before shutting the door behind him.
“Tonight.” And then he’s gone.
“You look like you had a nice trip,” Natalie says on the way to my meeting with The Professor later that evening.
“What makes you say that?” It was a nice trip, but I’m tired after flying in, staying up late, and then waking up early. I didn’t go back to sleep after Damian left, instead ordering breakfast and scribbling down new song ideas. I managed to take a thirty minute power nap on the plane, and I’ve been drinking coffee since.
Her smile turns knowing as her eyes skate over me. I look down at my outfit reflexively. Nothing over the top. I’ll be in the studio working on new tracks, so I’m wearing leggings and a loose pale pink top with my favorite pair of ankle boots. Comfy and cute, and paired with my oversized, rhinestone-studded sunglasses and a statement necklace, I look the part in case any photographers are lurking outside The Professor’s studio space.
“You’re glowing, Charlie,” she says at last. “And now you’re blushing.”
I turn away and sip my coffee, not willing to give her anything else. But she’s not to be stopped. Even though she’s my assistant, she’s become more like a friend since I hired her. But she must sense that she’s approaching a boundary line, because she backs off.
“Sorry. I just … you seem happier, more relaxed. And it’s good. That’s all I meant.”
I turn back and give her a quick smile. “I am happier. It was a good trip. I … reconnected with a good friend. I’m glad I went.”
“A good friend, huh?”
At my pointed look, she holds up her hands in surrender and lets out a laugh. “Fine, fine. I won’t pry. But you know my lips are sealed, no matter what you tell me. It’s in my contract, after all.”
When I don’t respond, she adds, “Not that I would anyway.”
“I know. Thanks, Natalie. There’s not much else to tell, really.” Apparently just making out is enough to give me a post-sex glow. At least when Damian’s the one I’m kissing.
Even though nothing is really settled, I’m happier and more hopeful than I’ve been since everything blew up in December. Before that, even, because now I don’t have to be so careful about everything I say. At least not with Damian. I feel freer, more able to be myself. My mom’s given me the silent treatment since I moved out, and I can’t say I’m upset about it. And now things with Damian are moving in a positive direction.
I smile out the window, looking forward to working on my next album. I haven’t felt this good about an album since my first ones years ago. Then it was the excitement of making it. Now it’s the refreshing feeling of being in control of my life, my music, and the direction of my career for the first time … ever.