by Whitney G.
“Stop fucking with me, Charlotte.” He pinned me against the wall with his hips. “We had an agreement.”
“We once agreed we wouldn’t hurt each other and you broke that promise pretty easily, so I guess we’re even now.”
“Six hours.”
“I’m not sorry,” I said, ignoring the frantic racing of my heart. “But if you give me another six months or so, I can consider meeting with you to take random trips down memory lane. You’ll have to fill in a lot of the blanks for me, though.”
“You don’t remember?” His lips brushed against mine and every nerve in my body came to life.
“I only remember the ending.”
“Nothing about what we had before that?” He hissed.
“No. Nothing we had was that memorable. We were young.”
We stared at each other, not saying a word. Within seconds his mouth was on mine, and my arms were around his neck.
He tore open my robe exposing my naked body and lifted me up by my thighs, forcing me to wrap my legs around his waist. I moaned as I fought for control of the kiss, as he fought back with rough and demanding bites of my bottom lip.
His cock hardened against me, and I reached down to free it from his sweatpants. He briefly tore his mouth away from mine and kissed my neck, biting my skin as I massaged him with my hand.
Returning to kissing me recklessly, he let me down onto the floor and tore open a condom before putting it on. He glared at me, looking hurt and angry all at once.
“Put your legs around my waist,” he commanded, lifting me up again. I obliged and he thrust his cock inside of me with one stroke—stretching and filling me deep.
Moaning, I closed my eyes and tried to adjust to his length, he didn’t give me the chance. He pulled back and pounded into me again and again.
“You don’t remember this?” he said, fucking me harder.
His eyes never left mine, mine never left his.
He continued owning my body like no other man could, bringing me to back to back orgasms—making me accept that he would always be the best sex I’d ever had.
He gripped my thighs as his cock throbbed inside of me, holding me steady as we both reached our release at the same time. Keeping his eyes on mine, he gently let me go and set me on the floor.
Without saying a word, he re-tied my robe shut and smoothed my hair back into place.
I watched as he tossed the condom into the trash and readjusted his pants. I tried to say something, but I couldn’t get any words to fall out of my mouth.
He looked me up and down one last time and headed toward the door. He looked over his shoulder, a hint of hurt still in his eyes.
“I expect you to show up next Tuesday.”
CHARLOTTE: THEN
Seven years ago
Pittsburgh
SUBJECT: POST GRAD plans.
It’s official! I’ve been awarded fellowships at Stanford, Brown AND Harvard! (I also received offer letters from every art school I applied to, but I’m going to ask for a deferral)
Oh, and to answer the text you sent me a few minutes ago, I’d love to go with you to dinner to meet your agent. (Are you sure you don’t want your mom to go with you instead of me?)
Talk to you tonight,
Charlotte
PS—I think I’m falling in love with you.
SUBJECT: RE: POST GRAD plans.
Congratulations. I’m very happy for you. I’ll take you out to dinner to celebrate this weekend. (I still think you should go to art school first—you clearly love that more than law, but I understand your decision)
Good to know you’re coming. (My mother hates agents. She almost killed my father’s agent when he played.)
SEE you tonight,
Grayson
PS—I think I already fell.
I KNOCKED ON GRAYSON’S door around seven o’clock that evening, shivering as Pittsburgh’s winter winds whipped against me.
“Hey, Charlotte!” Kyle opened the door. “I didn’t know you were coming up here tonight.”
Shit, shit, shit.
“Um.” I stepped inside. “Is Grayson here?”
“Of course he’s here,” he said. “He’s throwing my official ‘I’ve signed with an agent’ dinner.” He ushered me into the kitchen where Grayson, a few other football players, and Kyle’s parents were standing around sipping wine. “Want me to get your coat?”
“No, I’m okay.” I picked up a glass from the counter and tossed it back. “Which agency are you signing with?”
“Reid & Clover. I think they’re going to get me everything I want outside of football, you know?”
“I do.” I’d spent countless nights listening to him tell Grayson that he wanted to be the face of at least three drinks and a fashion label. I never really paid much attention to him until now, but Kyle was quite attractive. His dirty blond hair and green eyes gave him that extra charm in an ‘I’m asshole, but I’m likeable’ way.
“Hey.” Grayson walked over to me and kissed my lips. “I thought you were painting tonight.”
“I was. I’m taking a break so I figured I’d stop by.”
“Want me to take your coat?”
“No.” I held it closed. “No, I actually just remembered that I left something at home. I’ll go get it and come back.”
“Would you like me to drive you?”
“I can take the shuttle. I’ll be right back.” I walked away, but he grabbed my hand and pulled me into his bedroom.
He locked the door and looked at me.
“Why are you really here?” he asked. “Did you leave something last night?”
“No, I—” I felt my cheeks reddening. “It’s nothing. I can take the shuttle, Grayson.”
“Tell me the truth.”
“I wanted to hang out. I didn’t know you were hosting a get-together for Kyle.”
“You’re more than welcome to stay.” He looked confused. “It’ll probably turn into a party later.”
“In that case, I’ll come back after I change clothes.”
“You don’t have to do that.” He unfastened the top buttons of my coat and paused when he reached the middle one. He raised his eyebrow and smiled, trailing his finger along the lace of my bra.
“You came up here because you wanted to have sex?” he asked.
“No. Absolutely not.”
“Be honest.” He was still smiling. “You should be able to be honest with me like I’m honest with you.”
“I did not come up here to have sex with you, Grayson. I came up here to study.”
“Without any books? In lingerie?” He undid the last button. “You would’ve worn one of your sweaters if that was the case.”
“I just forgot to put on pants, and a shirt.”
“It’s twenty degrees outside.” He pushed the coat off my shoulders, letting it fall to the floor. “Try again.” He kissed my lips. “You can easily say, Yes, Grayson. I’m horny and I wanted to fuck you.”
“That’s not what I would say.”
“It’s what you should say, from here on out.” He kissed me again and hit the lights. “I’ll never turn you down.”
“Does this mean you’re not going back to the dinner?”
“It does.” He pulled his shirt over his head. Then he pushed me back onto his mattress. “Admit that you came up here because you’re horny and you wanted to fuck me, first.”
“Fine.” I smiled. “I came up here because I’m horny and I wanted to fuck you. Happy?”
“Yes.”
GRAYSON: THEN
Seven years ago
Pittsburgh
ATTENDING ANOTHER BUSINESS dinner was the last thing I wanted to do tonight. The one I'd participated in the night before, an introduction to a financial advisor, was three hours too long. It was a boring rehash of information I already knew, and the new things I wanted to know were met with an, "Oh, um. It's better if you google that when we get done here."
The only reason I hadn't canc
eled tonight's meeting with my agent was because I needed to resign a contract. That, and Charlotte and I were exhausted after having sex in her dorm room all afternoon.
“Do I look okay, Grayson?” Charlotte looked up at me as we walked through the doors of Monterey Bay Fish Grotto. She was wearing one of her sexy gray dresses and red colored heels.
"You look like you're going to be a distraction for me during this dinner."
She smiled, and we headed toward the private room near the back. The second we stepped inside, a red-headed woman and a blonde stood their feet.
“Nice to meet you in person, Grayson,” the red-head extended her hand to me. “I’m Anna Paige.”
“Nice to meet you,” I said. “This is my girlfriend, Charlotte.”
“Ah! Grayson has told me a lot about you, Charlotte.” She smiled and shook her hand as well. “I’m happy I get to put a face to a name.”
“I’m Jasmine.” The blonde shook our hands before we took seats at the table.
“So, first things first," Anna said. "I'm not one for small-talk, and my therapist tells me that I'm a workaholic with no social skills, so I apologize in advance if this meeting is short and to the point. Plus, I'm sure you two will enjoy your dinner a lot more without our presence.”
I like you already. “Short and to the point would be perfect.”
“Great! As your agent, I’ll need to know everyone in your cabinet.”
“My cabinet?”
“The people closest to you,” she said. “These are the people you trust. I currently have Kyle Stanton, Charlotte Taylor, and your mother listed. Is there anyone else?”
“No.”
"Okay." She tapped her phone. "Per your contract with us, I'm ordering you two new phones—one for personal and one for business. I tell all my clients that it's best to have two because you'll learn that everyone who you ever greeted on the street during your undergrad years will suddenly be your best friend when you get drafted. The last thing you need during your rookie season is random people texting or calling you just to prove that they once knew you. Oh, and my agency will cover the phone bills for both for ten years."
"I don't think I need a new phone number," I said. "I've changed it recently."
"No, she's right." Charlotte squeezed my hand. "My dad used to tell his most talented players the same thing when they were heading to the league."
“Okay.” I looked at Anna. “What else?”
"I'm ninety-nine percent sure that you'll be number one overall in the draft, but if you want to attend the pre-combine training to make sure that everyone knows you’re the best, my firm will be happy to cover all the costs.”
“I’ll think about it,” I said. “It depends on which weeks I’ll be vacationing with Charlotte this summer.”
"Got it." She tapped her phone again. Then she pointed to Jasmine. “Jasmine is going to be your second go-to person for whatever you need. I like to make sure that I’m not the only point of contact for my clients. So, if there's ever a time when I don't respond to a text message fast enough or miss an important call from you, Jasmine will be on hand. For you as well, Charlotte."
“What do you mean?” Charlotte asked.
“I mean, I know you’re going to law school, but I’m sure you’ll be coming to his Sunday games and social events whenever you can.” She handed her two business cards. “If there’s ever anything I can do to make you more comfortable in those settings, you can call and let me know.”
Charlotte smiled and tucked the cards into her wallet.
“The last thing I wanted to give you is a final agency contract that you’ll need to sign.” She set a thick legal binder on the table. "This supersedes the previous one you signed. Although we're confident that the terms are great, we'll reimburse you for any costs you incur whenever you get a lawyer to look over it."
“I’ll help you look over it for free,” Charlotte said.
I cleared my throat, preventing myself from saying something highly inappropriate. “Good to know.”
"Do either of you have any questions for Jasmine and me?" Anna asked.
“No,” we said unison.
“Okay, well that’s it!” She and Jasmine stood up from the table. “How painful was that, Grayson?”
“Excruciating,” I said. “Thank you for keeping it short.”
I stood up and gave her and Jasmine one final handshake, and then I moved to the other side of the table. A waiter set a bottle of wine on the table and set down two menus.
"I like Anna," Charlotte said. "I think she'll be able to manage your ego well. Oh, and I meant what I said about looking over your contract, but I think you should hire Frank Baum to look over it professionally. He’s the best lawyer in this city.”
I stared at her.
“What?” She looked confused. “Did I say something wrong?”
"No, I just wish I'd met you sooner."
“I wouldn’t have given you a chance sooner.”
“I think you would’ve.”
“I doubt it.” She laughed. “You probably would’ve approached me with, ‘Hey. I'm Grayson Connors, and I think you're sexy as hell. Give me your phone number,’ and then I would’ve never allowed myself to speak to you again based on principle.”
“I would’ve said sexy as fuck.”
She blushed and picked up her menu.
“Do you still hate seafood places?”
“Absolutely,” she said. “This is my tenth time here with you, and I hate it just as much as the first. I love you, though.”
“I love you, too.”
GRAYSON: NOW
Present Day
New York City
“ARE YOU SEEING ANYONE new, Grayson?” “Are you dating supermodel Elizabeth Thiele again?” “Why weren’t you at the team’s Super Bowl party in Vegas?” “Grayson? Grayson!”
I ignored the annoying questions from the paparazzi and slipped into my car, slamming my foot on the gas. I made it halfway across town and called Anna.
“Yes, Grayson?” She answered on the first ring.
“Could you kindly tell the manager of my condo that I’ll terminate my contract and make it public if he doesn’t do something about letting the paparazzi into the parking garage?”
“I’ll get right on it. Anything else?”
“Did my official MVP picture come in from the Oats Studio yet?”
“It did. I’ll have it framed and sent over right away.”
“Thank you.” I ended the call and sped down 43rd Avenue. I was an hour early for my meeting with Charlotte, and I was determined to get her to answer my questions.
I parked my car in a private garage and paid the guard an additional hundred bucks to keep it quiet. Then I pulled a hood over my head and made my way to the Rosy-gan Café.
When I arrived, an Adele song was playing in the background, and the cacophony of New York traffic was hitting notes of its own outside the windows.
There were no customers inside today, only employees who were hanging new art onto the walls. I wasn’t sure why I hadn't noticed it the day she stood me up, but the pictures they were hanging were undoubtedly hers. The pictures were all variations of coffee and rain, couples on football fields, and Pittsburgh bridges.
I looked over each one, wondering if she’d attended art school first instead of law school after all.
By the time I ordered my second cup of coffee, I noticed that Charlotte was half an hour late. I was tempted to leave now and head to her house, but I decided to give her another thirty minutes.
Five minutes later, she walked into the café and stopped at the counter for a latte. She plopped down in the seat across from me and unbuttoned her coat.
"You look beautiful," I said. "I've always loved you in gray."
“Thank you.” She sipped her latte. “So, what made you fuck Meredith Dawson?” she asked. “That was the first person you publicly slept with after we broke up, right?”
“Excuse me?”
“Or, was it Elizabeth Thieles?” She shrugged. “You two complemented each other pretty well.”
“You’ve already stood me up once and made your point, Charlotte. I don’t think you need to be hostile anymore.”
“I’m not being hostile,” she said. “If I was the one who disappeared on you and slept with tons of famous men, I’m sure you would want to know some of the details.”
“I wouldn’t.”
"Well," she said, shrugging, "I guess that’s where we’re different. So, tell me. Was she a virgin, too?”
I blinked.
“I wouldn’t be surprised if she was. I picture you collecting V-cards like your MVP trophies—that’s clearly all you wanted from me.”
“Cut the shit, Charlotte.” I’d had enough. “You know damn well that isn’t true.”
“Isn’t it?” There were tears welling in her eyes. “If you ever write a book about your life story, I’ll appreciate it if you put in a section about how much you used me and then left me when I wasn’t of value to you anymore.”
“Stop this.” I grabbed her hand. “Please.”
She slowly moved her hand away from mine and sighed. “I’m sorry. I meant to start by telling you congratulations on winning the Super Bowl and the MVP trophy.”
“Thank you, but I honestly don’t care about any of that right now.” I stood up and extended my hand. “Let’s talk outside.”
I expected her to say no, but she nodded and put on her coat. She didn’t take my hand, though. She only motioned for me to lead the way.
We stepped onto the trail that led into Central Park and I resisted the urge to pull her against my side.
“Did you watch the Super Bowl?” I asked.
“No. I read about it the next day, though.”
“I see.” I wasn’t sure why her saying that cut deep, but I didn’t let it show. “Should I assume that you don’t go to any of the games as well?”
“Yes.” She looked up at me. “Football was one of the other things I started to lose love for over the years.”
