Reese
It wasn’t the first time I’d woken up in sheets drenched with sweat, but it was the first time in the new house.
I shot up out of bed, the faces from my dream just as vivid in the dark of my room, so much so that I almost reached out to touch them. My chest heaved, drops of sweat beading across my pecs as realization slowly came to me. With every blink of my eyes, my skin cooled. My fear subsided in a slow trickle, the images that had woken me fading to black like they were drowning in a silent river.
It had been a night terror, one I should have been used to having by now, but wasn’t. It was the day of the shooting, my family’s faces, the screams ringing out around me as I watched my father cover my mother and sister. They looked at me with absolute panic in their eyes, but their screams, their pleas — they were muted.
I couldn’t hear them, couldn’t reach them, couldn’t save them.
And it was me holding the gun.
I scrubbed a hand over my face, wiping sweat away as a frustrated breath left my lips. Swinging the sheets back, I let the cold air assault my slick, hot skin, my feet already carrying me to the shower. I turned the faucet and let the water warm, stripping out of my damp clothes before finally facing myself in the mirror.
I looked as awful as I felt.
Blake had convinced me to see a therapist after the third time I’d had the same night terror in New York City. It’s your guilt, an old man who knew nothing about me had said. You’re holding the gun in the dream as a symbol of the responsibility you feel for not being there with them that day.
At the time, I thought it was bullshit. But now, I wasn’t so sure.
Once the water was hot, I stepped inside, letting it run over my hair and down my back. I swept my hair back from my face, forcing a breath as my eyes focused on the tile my hand was splayed on in front of me.
It’d been a rough couple of weeks, January fading easily into February, everything picking up speed just like I knew it would.
I was tutoring a dozen students after school now, one on Saturdays, and all that on top of teaching my normal classes during the day. I’d mostly unpacked, save for a few boxes with personal items I wasn’t sure what to do with yet, and I’d officially caught up with everyone who still lived in Mount Lebanon whom I used to know at one point in my life. I’d been working long days, spending my evenings with people who annoyed me more than entertained me, and more than anything, trying to ignore the fact that I missed her.
Charlie hadn’t talked to me since the day she came back to Westchester. And that had been two weeks ago.
Sure, she’d spoken to me. She’d said hello when we passed in the hallways, told me about the book she was reading when I asked, even referred one of her students’ older brothers to me for afterschool sessions. She’d offered to help me set up the spring concert if I needed anything, but all that aside — she hadn’t talked to me.
Charlie was keeping her distance at all costs.
We didn’t have lunch together, didn’t walk longer than a few steps side by side before she was jetting off in another direction. What was more, she seemed happier than when I first arrived at Westchester. Maybe she was fine. Maybe she was happy.
But something under my skin told me otherwise.
I saw her smiling. I watched her laughing each and every day. But her eyes… there was something there, something I’d seen immediately the first day we’d reconnected — something she was hiding now, or at least, trying to. When I’d first come back, it was almost as if she were a zombie, and then she’d let me in that night we went up the Incline.
Now, she wasn’t a zombie, but rather an actress. She told me everything was fine with her words, but her eyes betrayed that lie.
Then again, maybe I was crazy. Maybe I didn’t have any fucking idea how to tell if she was lying or not.
Maybe, deep down, I wanted it to be a lie — that she was perfectly fine without me.
The water cooled a bit, so I turned the faucet more, watching as the steam filled the four walls of my standing shower. One hand kept me steady on the tile while the other rubbed my back muscles, sore from lifting and unpacking boxes all week. I rubbed out the tension in my lower back, still thinking of Charlie, and that’s when another muscle woke up, too.
It was just past three in the morning, and I knew I needed more sleep to face the busy Friday I had ahead. The more I thought about how a nice release would help me fall back asleep, the more my cock ached under the hot water. Every flash of Charlie’s doe eyes made me grow another inch, longer and harder, every nerve waking up at the thought of having her in that shower with me.
“This is so fucked up,” I groaned, but my hand was already moving from the muscles on my back, fingers wrapping around my shaft with a slow pump. I thought if I spoke it out loud, it would stop me. “Think of someone else. Anyone else.”
My resolve was weak, but I tried. I closed my eyes tight, fist curling over my crown before sliding down to my base as I paged through my mental stash of porn. I saw foreign tits bouncing, but then it was Charlie’s soft lips as she sucked yogurt off a spoon. I shook them away, remembering a hot anal video I’d found just before my move, but it was quickly shoved out and replaced with the image of Charlie’s thumb between her teeth, her eyes on my mouth, her small body pressed into mine.
“Fuck,” I grunted, surrendering to the need. I was already working myself faster, flexing my hips into my hand, the water providing a hot, slick lubricant. I pictured Charlie there with me, her small body bent beneath me, knees on the cold tile as her eyes locked on mine.
And then, my hand shot up, turning the faucet all the way right until the water was ice and all visions of Charlie disappeared along with the steam.
All the want drained from me in an instant, the cold water zapping my nervous system as I forced myself to stand under it. It felt like punishment, which was what I needed. Charlie deserved more than me thinking about her while I beat off.
She deserved more than me, period.
I ran a bar of soap over my entire body quickly, rinsing off in the still icy water, not allowing myself any more warmth. Once a fresh towel was scrubbed over my long, wet hair and tied around my waist, I ran my hand over the foggy mirror, meeting my eyes in the reflection.
I remembered a time when I could stare at myself for hours, getting ready for a party or a night out on the town. I would listen to my music too loud, spend too long on my hair, shave and joke with Graham or, later, my roommates at Juilliard. I’d been confident and sure, the world my oyster.
Now, I could barely look for more than a few seconds.
The man I used to be had died along with my family, and now all that was left was a wanderer. I searched for home, for happiness, for something — anything — to make me feel like life was still worth living.
I’d found that in Charlie.
The only question was whether I could keep that feeling with her only being my friend — and not in the way I wanted her to be, but in the way she was. Naturally.
Maybe we wouldn’t talk every day. Maybe we wouldn’t spend time together outside of school. Maybe this was it, and I had to ask myself if it was enough.
If it wasn’t, I needed to keep searching for something to feel like home, and not in her. It wasn’t Charlie’s job to save me.
Even if I wished she would.
Reese
Even though I’d only been awake a half hour in the middle of the night, I felt the restlessness of my lack of sleep that next morning. It was Friday, the day before Valentine’s Day, which meant the entire school was painted red and pink, and every single child was hopped up on sugar.
I’d already had three cups of coffee by lunch, but I rounded the corner into the teachers’ café to fill up again, anyway.
“I don’t know, I think it’s nice to see her so smiley again,” Sierra Maggert said as she mashed the buttons on the microwave with her pudgy fingers. She was a younger teacher, round in every way from her cheeks to her ankles, and one of the kindest members on the faculty in my opinion. She’d offered to sit with me every day that I’d been alone at lunch, and we’d spent quite a few afternoons talking about her dog, Buster, that she’d had to put on a diet last month.
“Oh, it is,” the man next to her agreed. I didn’t recognize him. “I’m just saying it’s not like before. It’s not genuine, you know? It’s like that crazy kind of smiley you see from people who are faking that everything is fine before they crack and go on a killing spree.”
She chuckled as the man continued.
“But I mean, after what happened to her, I don’t know how she’s kept it together. While I still think she was getting her rocks off on an island somewhere, maybe those three days were spent in a mental hospital. Girl needed a breakdown.”
Sierra clucked her tongue, but then her eyes found mine and she gave me a wide grin. “Hey there, Reese. Back for more coffee?”
The man beside her sipped his own coffee, watching me over the top of his mug like I couldn’t be trusted. He’d mentioned someone being gone for three days, and Charlie shot immediately to the forefront of my mind. I wasn’t one for getting caught up in teacher gossip, but if they were talking about her, I wanted in.
“Can’t get enough of it today,” I said, holding up my empty Thermos with a forced smile. I reached for the coffee pot to fill it, my eyes skirting from Sierra to her counterpart. “I’m Reese Walker.”
Once my coffee was refilled, I extended a hand toward him, and he eyed it for a moment before tentatively reaching forward to grip it in a limp handshake. “Sheldon Mackabee. You’re the new music teacher, right? Piano guy.”
“That’s me,” I said, fastening the top back on my Thermos. “Sorry to eavesdrop, but I overheard a bit of your conversation before I came in.” I shifted, debating my options on what to say next. I wanted them to trust me enough to tell me what they’d been talking about. “Care to fill the new guy in on the hottest gossip?”
Sheldon narrowed his eyes, but Sierra lit up like I’d pressed all the right buttons for her at once.
“Charlie Pierce,” she whispered, pulling her leftover container from the microwave and scooting closer to us. She swiped a plastic fork from the dispenser on the counter and stuck her freshly heated roast beef with it, dipping it in gravy and lifting it to her lips. “Sweet little kindergarten teacher. Know who she is?”
The hair on the back of my neck stood at attention, but I feigned disinterest, leaning a hip against the counter. “I’m familiar.”
“Well,” Sierra continued. “She was out for a few days back in January, and ever since then, she’s been all happy go lucky. She hasn’t been that way with anyone other than her students in so long, it’s freaking everyone out a little. She’s almost back to being the person she was when she first started here.”
Sheldon snorted. “No, she’s not. She’s faking like she’s happy. That said, she does have a little more of a pep in her step.” He pointed at Sierra. “I’m telling you, she got laid.”
My jaw clenched at Sheldon’s remark, and even more at the fact that he was just as aware of the fact she was faking her happiness as I was.
I forced a tight laugh. “Well, she’s married, isn’t she? I don’t think getting laid would constitute as a catalyst for a mood change.”
Sheldon and Sierra exchanged a look.
“I don’t know, that’s just my guess,” Sheldon said. “But after what happened to her, she deserves to get the sadness banged out of her.”
I hated Sheldon.
Sierra giggled, but then shook her head with a sigh. “It really is so sad, the poor thing.”
I cleared my throat, debating if I should let on that I knew what they were talking about. About her loss. But then I realized she would have been very, very pregnant if she’d lasted eight months carrying twins — and then she’d come back after the summer no longer pregnant, and also without children.
Of course, they all knew about what had happened.
“It is sad,” I finally said. “I mean, I heard she lost them both…” I shook my head. “I can’t even imagine.”
They both watched me then, exchanging another odd glance before Sheldon leaned in closer. “We’re not talking about her pregnancy, Reese. It’s what happened after.”
“After?”
Sheldon looked over his shoulder at a table of other teachers, lowering his voice to a whisper. “Her husband cheated on her about a year after it happened.”
My eyes must have bulged out of my head, because both Sierra and Sheldon nodded with I know, right expressions.
“Exactly,” Sheldon added, leaning back a bit and taking a sip of his coffee. “Some spicy blonde vixen he works with is what I heard. And hey, I don’t know that I could blame the guy. After Charlie became such a shell? And come on, that innocent school girl thing has to get old fast.” He shrugged. “I would want some tight bossy tail after going through what he did, too.”
I ran my hand over my mouth, scrubbing the rough hair on my jaw and trying with every ounce of willpower I had not to show that I cared.
And not to lodge my fist straight into Sheldon’s giant nose.
“Anyway, I think she got laid. Revenge cheating. She ran away with some hot, young, single dad or something for a long weekend and came back freshly fucked.” Sheldon smiled, tilting his coffee toward me. “And to that I say, good for her.”
Sierra finished chewing a large bite, washing it down with soda before changing the subject to her dog. I took the opportunity to politely excuse myself, and then my feet were moving me fast down the hall toward Charlie’s classroom.
I had no idea why I was going there, or what I would say once I saw her. My thoughts were jumbled in a tangled mess of anger and confusion, and I was desperate to put the pieces together.
But when I rounded the corner into her room and saw her there, thumbnail pinned between her teeth, book balanced in the other hand as her eyes devoured the page, all I could do was stop and watch her.
How?
How could he do that to her, to the woman he vowed to love forever, to the woman who vowed the same to him? More than that, more than just the promise of marriage, it was Charlie. She was broken and hurting, she’d lost their children — and he’d run out on her.
I’m going to murder him.
Then again, was it even true? Could I trust Sierra and douchebag Sheldon as reliable sources for anything? How did they even know about it, anyway — who was their source?
There was a very distant part of me that realized how irrational I was being, that Charlie and I had perhaps tiptoed on that line of what was appropriate and what was not the night we went up the Incline. But I couldn’t see past the fact that whether I had proof or not, there was a possibility Cameron had stepped out on her. There was a possibility he’d hurt her and still got to keep her, anyway.
And that made me see red.
“Oh,” Charlie’s soft voice snapped me back to the present moment. “Hi, Reese. What are you doing down this way?”
I blinked.
“Reese?”
“I was just wondering if you would be helping your mom with the fundraiser this weekend,” I lied. Well, technically it wasn’t a complete lie. I had been wondering if she would be around after I’d agreed earlier in the week to help Gloria, but it wasn’t the reason I’d stormed down the hall to her room.
“The Valentine’s Day silent auction? I’m helping with the bidding items and I’ll be in attendance.” Her brows bent together then. “Will you be there, too?”
I sniffed, running a hand back through my hair. I needed to get away from her. I needed to calm the fuck down. Every second I stood there looking at her soft, innocent face and thinking about what her husband possibly did to break the smile that once existed there drove me closer to certifiable insanity.
“I’m helping out. I’ll be at your parents’ later tonight.”
“Oh,” she said. “Me, too. I guess I’ll see you there.”
“Yeah. See you.”
I turned without looking at her again, gritting my teeth against the urge to slam a hand into one of the lockers as I passed. I didn’t even know if I had my facts straight.
Calm down, I begged myself as I made my way back to my own classroom, but it was no use. I couldn’t stop seeing red. I couldn’t stop wishing Cameron’s neck was trapped between my fists.
Once I was back in my room, I pulled the door shut behind me, falling into my chair and slamming my Thermos on the desk. I ran both hands through my hair, forcing a long exhale as my eyes lost focus.
For a long while I just sat there, breathing, finding the resolve to not leave school right then and find Cameron to ask him myself.
But this wasn’t about him. Not really.
It was about Charlie.
And I’d see her tonight.
At that, I leaned back in my chair, resting my hands on top of my head as my wheels turned. Before now, I’d realized I needed to stay away from her, to give her the space she desired to focus on her and Cameron. But I couldn’t do that anymore. Not when I knew she deserved better.
Whether it was completely true or not, Cameron’s infidelity, I didn’t know. But those rumors had stemmed from somewhere, and that was enough fuel to drive my fire. I couldn’t ask him, couldn’t make him pay for what he’d done, or take away the scar it’d undoubtedly left on Charlie’s heart, but there was something I could do.
I could be there for her. I could bring that smile back to her face, bring the joy back to her heart. There was a time when I knew every corner of her mind, every fear she housed, every dream she wished. I knew the girl under the glasses and the braids, and I knew she couldn’t be far from the woman who existed now.
I would make Charlie happy again.
That was a promise I’d keep.