Duke
Why the hell am I trucking my ass out to the nearest drug store to purchase a stock pile of hangover remedies for a girl I’m not sleeping with?
Last night was interesting. With Thursday being my night off most weeks, I’d missed Charlotte’s first karaoke performance, so why did I drag myself to the bar? Well, because I’m a glutton for punishment, and Charlotte is the perfect form. She’s unattainable, but then again, if she knew what I knew, maybe I’d have a fighting chance.
How do I tell her, her boyfriend is a complete jackass?
The only conclusion I’ve come up with is I don’t. Who wants to win over a girl with petty tactics like that?
The whole drive to Charlotte’s apartment, the plastic bag in the passenger seat taunts me, reminding me how foolish I am.
My hand raps against the door. After no answer, I repeat the knock, and the door flings open. Rachel glares at me, her hair teased into a knot and dark shadows under her eyes.
“What the fuck do you want?” she questions, her voice raspy and strained from a night of drinking.
“I brought supplies.” I shake the bag.
A million unasked questions tumble around in her head. She steps to the side and gestures for me to enter.
“She’s asleep.” Rachel jerks the bag from my hand and rummages through, inspecting the items. “Pedialyte?”
“You’d be surprised.” I grin. “I thought I’d take her to breakfast.”
“Good luck waking her.” Rachel plops down on the couch, clutching the tote to her stomach. “Dare I ask what you’re really doing here?”
“It’s probably safer if you don’t.”
“Fair enough. Hers is the door on the right.” Rachel chuckles.
I snatch the bag from her and ease down the hall, careful to be quiet.
Like a creep, I stand right outside her room and watch as she wiggles and shifts under the comfort of her light pink, floral blanket. The exhausted part of me is dying to climb underneath with her, to feel the warmth of her skin against mine.
The floorboards creak when I step inside. Charlotte rips the blankets off her body, and she scans the room with wide eyes. When they finally spot me just a step inside the door, she pinches her eyes shut and grunts.
“I didn’t mean to frighten you.” I dangle the bag from my fingertip. “I come in peace and hangover remedies.”
Charlotte sits up, slow and calculated, and rubs her temples, groaning as her muscles shift. Someone hit her drink limit last night.
“What time is it?”
“A little after nine.”
“How do you know where I live?”
“I dropped Jacob off once.” At the mention of his name, an uneasiness settles between us. He’s the unspoken barrier, at least for me. I can’t speak for her. What I do know is the attraction isn’t one-sided. Jacob or no Jacob, given the chance, we’d rip through each other’s clothes.
“So, whatcha got in there?” She wiggles her fingers for the bag, needy for whatever may take away the searing pain inside her head. I drop it on her lap and turn away.
Her shelves hold dozens of frames with photos of real smiles which mock my own upbringing. Over my shoulder, I see her set random items on the table beside her, darting glances at me.
“You know, Duke, you’re getting awfully close to being my friend.” The warmth of her smile mirrors in her voice.
“These your parents?” I pick up a blue frame and show her the picture. A man and woman flank her sides on a porch swing. Charlotte’s legs are tucked underneath her, and a grin worth a million dollars is plastered on her face.
“They are,” Charlotte slips from the comfort of the bed and looks over my arm.
I gape at her tiny, striped, spandex shorts and tiny tank top. When she moves just right, a large portion of her stomach peeks out. Her nipples harden under my watch, and she covers her chest with her arms.
I thumb the frame. “You guys are close?”
“As close as you can be.” She takes the frame and sets it back on the shelf.
“You’re lucky.” I can’t remember the last time my parents took a photo with me where it didn’t serve a purpose. Genuine love isn’t something my parents are capable of providing.
“And you’re not?” Charlotte slips back onto her bed, her legs extended in front of her, and pats the spot beside her.
“Depends on the day. I’ve learned the family you pick is sometimes better than the one you’re born with.” Our legs graze against each other, and an overwhelming sense of vulnerability sparks when we touch. The easiness between us makes me want to spill all my fears to her and pray she has a way to ease them.
“Derks, Lydia, and Randy are your family. Nothing wrong with that, and then you have the fraternity.” She stretches forward, placing a hand on my knee to steady herself. The top on the Gatorade is twisted off, and she guzzles half of the drink.
“The fraternity is only a means to an end.”
“What do you mean?”
“I’m a legacy, meaning my father and grandfather, and every other known ancestor of mine attended Greystone and rushed Sigma Nu.” I shake my head, ashamed I’d fallen into the trap. “At first, I only pledged to stick it to my father, but then after a while, I realized I could use being a brother as a way to build connections.”
“Networking,” Charlotte whispers. “That’s what Jacob use to say. I just never really understood why it took up so much of his time. His whole entire world revolved around that damn house. He was always running off to God knows where.”
“Some take it more serious than others.” Now would be a good time to tell her the truth about her precious boyfriend.
“Well, then he must have been granted the golden star of participation because he was always away.” Charlotte’s lips press into a thin line, and animosity rolls off her like rain on a windshield, blinding me from seeing what she’s really trying to say.
Angry Charlotte is a sight to behold. She rings her hands together, and her knuckles turn white under the pressure. How horrible of a person do you have to be to be turned on by anger?
“It’s not like I expected him to spend every minute of his day with me, but I do expect someone to want to be around. He just seemed so distant closer to the end,” Charlotte rambles, her words quick, but well thought out. She’s been desperate to get this off her chest.
“I get it. I do.” My attempt at being understanding earns me a laugh. “What?”
“Have you ever been in a relationship?” Her brow furrows. She already knows this answer.
“Well, not exactly.”
“Come talk to me when you’ve invested your whole life in someone, and then you realize he hasn’t done the same. That’s when you’ll understand.” Charlotte pushes off the mattress, and her chin trembles enough for me to notice. Oh shit, is she gonna cry? Please don’t let her start crying. Tears make me nervous.
“He loves you,” I whisper against my better judgement. He may love her, but I want to be the one to fix her problems. Someone needs to explain my feelings to me.
Charlotte dabs the delicate corner of her eye. “Yeah, well, he told me all the time.”
“But words don’t mean shit unless there’s action behind them.” I finish the thought. I don’t know much about love and relationships, but one thing I’m certain of is if you have a girl like the one standing in front of me, you don’t do shit to make her cry.
“Exactly, but enough of that.” She waves her hands and shakes her head, telling me she’s hit her limit.
“You know what will help this hangover of yours?” I slide off the edge of the bed and stand.
“A tranquilizer?” This girl is funny.
“A giant, greasy breakfast.” My finger brushes against the small sliver of skin exposed when her tank top rides up just enough to show that perfect patch of skin I’d give anything to kiss. The intimate touch draws her eyes to my hand. “Now, get dressed. It’ll be my treat.”
I leave the room and lean my head against the closed door, hidden while I collect myself. Dammit. My fist softly pounds the drywall.
Rachel sits with her legs crossed over each other and a large blanket covering every inch up to her neck. She glances at me, abandoning some housewives reality show.
“So, you like my girl, don’t you?” The grimace on her face as she chugs the Pedialyte makes me laugh.
“You ready to go?” Charlotte drags into the room and kisses Rachel on the crown of her head. “You want to go grab breakfast with us?”
“No, you two go on without me.” She winks at me then lifts her head to address Charlotte. “Next time, let’s cool it on the tequila.”
“Deal.” The two of them high five.
I place my hand low on Charlotte’s back to escort her to my truck.
“I know just the place we can go,” Charlotte announces once we are inside the cab.
Her directions take me to a rundown diner. The booths are worn with age, and the brittle faux leather cushions are cracked and torn. The place gives hole in the wall a brand-new meaning. The service, though, is quick and friendly.
Within seconds of sitting, we place our order and enjoy fresh, hot cups of coffee while we wait.
“We’re friends, right?” Charlotte smooths the initials carved into the corner of the table.
“Sure.” Fuck, where is this going?
“Can I ask you something, then?” She grabs a straw and stirs her coffee. “Who’s the blonde girl? The one from the hospital. I saw her last night at the bar.”
Well, shit.
“Stacey.” Let the questions end here. I don’t want to lie to her.
“Who is she to you?” Is it jealousy I hear?
“She’s no one to me. She’s something to someone else.” I look away at the crowd entering the small diner, hoping Charlotte will stop the inquisition.
“Here you two go.”
I’ll be dropping a hefty tip on our waitress who just saved me from this conversation.
Charlotte’s eyes widen at the buffet of food she ordered. The way her fork twirls over each of the plates trying to decide which bite to take first is adorable. The girl likes to eat.
With the first taste of the pancakes, she moans, licking the raspberry syrup from her bottom lip. What kind of fucking hell is this I’m living? I’m going to be rubbing one out tonight to the sound of her eating those damn pancakes.
She looks up from her newly empty plate and eyes what I have left.
“I’ll give you some of my sausage, Charlotte.” I run my tongue over my bottom lip. “If you want some.”
Charlotte stands slowly, her petite body leaning over me. Even hung over, her beauty is overwhelming.
“Maybe some other time.” She plucks at her shirt, fanning herself with the cool air.
“I’m a little offended you didn’t want even a nibble of my sausage.” I poke her in the ribs as we walk out of the diner.
“I like being around you,” she blurts out. She’s refreshing, and somehow manages to keep me alert. Just when I think that’s it, she gives me just a little bit more. She’s an addiction I’m more than happy to have.
“Likewise.” I help her in the truck and jog around to my side. Charlotte gawks at me. “What?”
“Do you usually open car doors for people?” Why is this girl looking at me like I hung the damn moon?
“People, no. Women, yes,” I answer with a chuckle. “I think Randy would be pretty pissed if I tried to open the door for him.”
“It’s nice. My dad always does it for my mom.” Something magical glistens in her eyes at the memories.
I imagine Charlotte as a little girl, watching on as her father held the door open for her mother. She admired the way her mom leaned in for a quick but sweet kiss and in that moment, Charlotte sent up a prayer that one day a man would do the same for her.
“Jacob must have done it for you.” I’m such a masochist.
“Maybe every once in a while.” She grits her teeth tight enough, I think they’ll crack under the pressure.
“You’re lying,” I say, turning the keys. I pop the truck into gear and pull out into traffic.
“He never did,” she confesses. “I don’t think it ever crossed his mind as something he should do.”
Her protection of him both intrigues me and makes me wonder why she feels the need to defend him when he’s not here.
“Don’t take this the wrong way, but you’re upset with Jacob. Not all the time, but you make small comments,” I say.
“How do I explain this?” She taps her finger along her tight jaw. “People change, and that’s okay, but sometimes Jacob zigs when I zag. When I see changes in him, I don’t always know how to take them.”
“Like what kind?”
“He’s in his own world. He’s off creating these memories, and sometimes I get this idea that I’m holding him back.”
“You can’t hold anyone back who doesn’t want to be held back.”
“That’s sort of what I mean. I don’t think he wants to be held back. He stopped doing all the things that made us, us, and then you do these sweet things like opening my car door.” Her eyes blink slowly and water. “And it seems so foolish, but it makes me wonder.”
“Wonder what?” I grip the steering wheel, hoping it keeps me from reaching out and linking my fingers with hers.
“If maybe...” She fidgets with her hair, pulling it up and dropping it back down onto her shoulders.
At the red light, I glance over at her. Out of all my mistakes, this is the biggest one I could’ve made. Her eyes meet mine, and I suddenly want to be a person worthy of Charlotte.
“Maybe it could be better.” I finish her thought, putting her out of her misery. She’s struggling, and I understand why.
“Maybe it could be better,” she whispers.
Maybe it’s time I start being honest.