by Haley Cass
Which was honestly true, because Charlotte would often find that she was much colder than Sutton was as she would grab onto her arm as they walked.
Cold-blooded, warm-hearted Sutton, with her red hair contrasting with her sweater as it was done in a low ponytail, falling like straight silk down her back. She’d taken off the boots she’d worn over, neatly placing them next to the couch, Charlotte noticed, before she walked up next to her.
Sutton glanced at her, surprise coloring her features, as she sounded impressed, “You really are a fan of my mother’s.”
Charlotte looked at the shelf that had all of Katherine Spencer’s novels lined up in order, taking in the slow, reverent way Sutton was running her hand over the spines of the books. She watched for a moment and wondered if Sutton realized that she instinctively traced over the S in Spencer on all of the spines with her index finger.
Then she turned back to Sutton, tilting her head up slightly to look her in the eye. “You thought I was lying?” She arched a purposefully incredulous eyebrow at her.
“No! Not . . .. really. But a lot of people say things that they think I want to hear, when they realize who my mother is. Especially at school, seeing as how, you know, I’m in literature.” She shrugged, twice, embarrassed, and Charlotte watched in amusement.
When she turned again to see the book that Sutton’s hand had paused on, she nodded at it, “That one is actually my favorite.”
A large, glowing smile quickly stole over Sutton’s face, and she simply beamed down at her. “Mine, too.”
For a moment, Charlotte wondered how Sutton had so much warmth – from her smile to her actual temperature – before she cleared her throat and looked back at the book – The Princess in Disguise. The novel followed knightly Aurora going on what should have been a simple mission but had then turned into her stumbling into a much greater plot when she discovered that the girl acting as a castellan’s daughter was truly the princess Clara that had been on the run and missing for years.
“While I do love Aurora, and I think she’s a model heroine, there is something about Clara that I found so intriguing. I can’t wait for the next one, when they’re on the road together.”
All right, perhaps she was actually a pretty big fan of Katherine Spencer’s books. But the first one had come out when she was really coming into her sexuality and her stance on feminism, and Aurora was a great character to delve into for that.
But Sutton’s smile only got even softer, impossibly so, before she took on a mischievous look. “It’s really good.”
Her eyes narrowed. “You’ve read it already?”
“You know I’m her daughter right? And her number one fan.”
She found that stupidly endearing, and she shook her head lightly before she paused. “Wait, is the dedication in that book to you?”
Charlotte reached out to slide the book out from the shelf, flipping open the cover, and pointing to the inscription, As always, thankful to my husband and my children. This book is particularly beholden to my own young princess; this book wouldn’t have been nearly the same without your strength and creativity.
Sutton leaned in, and Charlotte felt her shoulder brush against her own, the fabric of her sweater soft against her skin. When she turned her head slightly to look at her, Sutton had a bashful smile on her lips.
“Yes.” She seemed to hesitate for a moment, before saying, “She’s mine. I mean, Clara Reiner, the princess? I created her. Originally, in the first draft that my mother had for the novel, Clara wasn’t going to be an actual character, it was just going to be about Aurora, exposing the castellan while on her journey. But I had created the idea of Clara as a princess in disguise for my Fiction Writing class, and when I was talking about it with my mom, she evolved.”
Sutton looked both proud and self-conscious, her hand coming down to fidget lightly with the bottom of her shirt. But Charlotte could only give her a surprised look that melted into a soft smile.
It wasn’t as though she hadn’t known Sutton was bright, but this – her creativity, and knowing that she was behind creating one of Charlotte’s favorite characters – made an unfamiliar warmth settle in her chest.
“That’s actually very impressive, Sutton. So, you do write.”
There was a light blush on her cheeks, but the brightness in her eyes was unmistakable as she looked up at Charlotte. “Not really. Just with my mom.”
She filed it away for later, because she’d learned that sometimes with Sutton it was better to let things be than to continue.
“Come on, the food is getting cold. And it’s time for you to get acquainted with one of my favorites.”
She walked back toward the couch and knew Sutton was following her, even before she sat down with a sigh. “I don’t know why I agreed to watch this with you. It’s just going to be miserable.”
“Because life isn’t all about Casablanca, darling,” she teased. “Come, watch, and then you can have those lemon cakes that I saw in another bag for dessert.”
***
Three hours, a meal of Thai food, with lemon cakes for dessert, and the rise and fall of one of her historic heroes later, Charlotte muted the credits as they played on the TV. Then she turned, pulling her legs up to curl under her on the couch, and looked at Sutton.
Who, she’d learned, was very serious about not making comments during movies – which Charlotte was very much the same about, and she was very grateful for it. Caleb and Dean both loved to talk throughout movies they watched, and it drove her crazy.
She took in the way Sutton had her arms crossed as she was leaning back against the couch. Then the way she sighed, soft and gloomy.
She propped her head up with her fist, as she drew out, “So . . . what did you think?”
The way Sutton swiveled her head to nail her with a look made Charlotte snort in laughter. She then indignantly crossed her arms and swung those long legs up to gracefully curl under her, in a position mirroring Charlotte’s.
“I can’t believe that this is one of your favorite topics. What is wrong with you?”
The chuckle that escaped her was surprisingly loud. “I love it. I love her.”
Sutton blew out a long breath, before she began to rant, “It just makes me so sad –”,
“She was one of the most prosperous monarchs in history!” She interjected, unable to help herself.
Sutton just glared. “It’s sad, because her sister had her locked up, then she ruled while determined to be alone and never get married because it could have undermined her authority. And in the end, she was just depressed and lonely. It’s not a happy ending, regardless of the middle!” Sutton spoke with her hands, moving them in a distinct what the fuck kind of gesture.
The agitated cadence in Sutton’s tone was unfamiliar to her, and it sparked something in her that made her sit up a little straighter, a smirk taking over instinctively. Which Sutton noticed and it made her mock-glare.
“You don’t agree? You don’t think this is sad?” Sutton asked in disbelief.
Charlotte tipped her head, taking in a thoughtful breath as she felt Sutton’s wondering eyes trace over her face from a few feet away. After a long moment, she admitted, “Well, it is a bit sad when you think of it like that, of course. But I don’t feel sad after watching it.” She shrugged as she brought her hand up to rest on the space of the cushion between them.
Sutton leaned in and Charlotte watched as those fire-touched strands brushed against the blanket she had folded at the top of her sofa. Sutton looked at her, interested and questioning. “What does it make you feel, then? Apparently, your human emotions don’t function the way others do.”
“I’m not happy, per-se, just not sad. But . . . empowered, in a way. Look at all she could accomplish, and that was centuries ago.”
She wondered what Sutton thought of in the few moments where she couldn’t quite control the way her expression scrunched up in thought, before smoothing out into a teasing grin. “Well, I don’t think there is any w
ay for your siblings to lock you up in a tower in today’s world anyway.”
She shifted forward so that she could reach out to push at Sutton’s shoulder. Gently, though, not even really enough so that her hand was displaced, and she lightly traced her fingers over the knitted fabric for a moment, before dropping.
“When will I stop being surprised at your snark?”
Sutton laughed, but there was a slight catch in her breath. “Hopefully never, so I won’t become boring.”
Her expression leveled out. “Sutton, I can honestly say you’ve surprised me more than anything since the first time I got your message.”
Sutton accepted her words with a pleased look crossing her features as she absently toyed with the blanket on the back of the couch again. It was only a few inches away from where Charlotte’s head was resting, and she ran her eyes over the gentle way Sutton’s long fingers pulled at a loose thread.
Her thoughts were cut off when Sutton abruptly sat up, leaning farther in with her agency. The movement startled her, and she looked at her in surprise, eyes wide.
“Oh! Speaking of your convictions! I read your interview in the Times today. I meant to text you, but it was just before I had a meeting with my professor, and I forgot,” Sutton explained.
Charlotte quirked an eyebrow. “I didn’t think that you really enjoyed the political section of the Times.”
In fact, she knew that to be true. Over their last few coffee hangouts, one of the things they’d discussed was that while Sutton and her oldest brother Oliver were the Spencer children who did the best in a political setting, and were up-to-date on important matters, she largely preferred to keep out of the intricacies of it all.
It had been amusing to listen to Sutton describe the fact that she voted in every election because she’d been raised to believe it was her duty to do so. And that if she couldn’t fall back on prior knowledge about a candidate, she would spend a quick half hour to look up the important topics and where each candidate stood on them.
She enjoyed the way Sutton rolled her eyes. “I don’t, typically. But usually my friends aren’t featured there. I think I’ll be paying closer attention during this race than I have during most others.”
“Aw, you’ll do it just for me?” she teased, but the pleased feeling she had was real.
“Shut up.” After a few seconds, she took in a breath and looked back at Charlotte, looking her in the eye. “Your interview was really good, though. I don’t know how, but I feel like you effortlessly managed to condemn Naomi and talk yourself up without being super obvious about it. And you were clear about your respect for your grandmother, but firm that you are your own person,” Sutton lifted her eyebrows, her lips coming to a slight pout as she thought for a moment before she settled on, “It was very impressive.”
Charlotte felt a pleasant warmth coursing through her, settling thick and smooth as honey through her veins. “Sutton Spencer, you flatter me.”
“I’m being serious!” she insisted, with a laugh, before she settled back against the couch once more.
She was closer now. Close enough that Charlotte felt her warm breath lightly brush over her cheek, smelling faintly sweet, of the lemon cakes Sutton had brought as dessert. She’d been this close in passing over the past few weeks – moments where she would kiss Sutton’s cheek gently in a goodbye.
Which was, in part, to actually say goodbye, of course. But then she’d realized it had given her a trill of excitement the way Sutton so obviously reacted to them. She reacted like Charlotte had kissed her for real. So, in turn, it became like a tease for Charlotte herself.
Because . . . it would be so easy to just turn her head in those moments, or lean in right now.
After a few moments beat by, Sutton licked her lips, and her eyes followed the motion closely.
Sutton took in a quick breath and asked, with her voice shaking slightly, “How are you feeling, about all of that? The, uh, the campaign. Do you feel less stressed?”
The words broke her out of her reverie, and Charlotte shook her head, drawing back and collecting herself. Taking in a deep breath, she released it with a soft laugh. “Though a movie isn’t my typical method of de-stressing, I do feel oddly better.”
She tossed Sutton a wink even though she wasn’t really joking in the slightest.
“What have you done in the past?”
“Oh, Sutton . . .” Charlotte closed her eyes for a moment, taking a deep breath. “You can’t possibly be asking me that.”
“Why not?” she asked softly, and just – how was she so innocent but not, at the same time?
She moved without thinking, really, shifting in enough so that she could feel the warmth from Sutton’s body, trailing her fingertips over Sutton’s hand that was resting on the back of the couch. “Darling, the biggest issue for me so far in the election has been deleting my profile on SapphicSpark.”
It was truly the biggest downside that had arisen in the past couple of weeks.
The fact of the matter was that whenever work and life in general got stressful, the best stress relief that she’d found for herself was through a physical release. While going through a hard time at work, Charlotte had often found that it was the best time to log in to the app and find someone to . . . work through her release with her.
Sutton’s eyes widened as realization dawned, and her cheeks blushed in the way Charlotte loved.
“Oh. So. That was your . . . system.”
She couldn’t help but laugh, tracing her fingertip down Sutton’s wrist, feeling the way her pulse sped up. She both heard and felt the way her breath hitched, and when she responded, her voice was unintentionally low, “My system, yes. It worked very well. What is it that you do, to de-stress?”
Fuck her, she honestly shouldn’t have phrased it that way, and she scolded herself inwardly. Because any images she had of Sutton de-stressing were not at all innocent. A buzz of arousal shot through her, trying to push away images of Sutton de-stressing herself.
She cleared her throat, and swayed closer to Charlotte, and blue eyes darkened into a stormy gaze. “I, um . . . write. Or go for a run. Or I sometimes do yoga, if I don’t feel like going out.”
Her voice, which was normally so clear, dropped just rough enough to send a shudder up Charlotte’s spine.
“Yoga?”
She didn’t realize that she’d inched in, until she was close enough to see the way Sutton’s eyelashes fluttered, casting light shadows over her cheeks. She had freckles this close, Charlotte realized, and god, it would be so easy to lean in.
“Um . . . yes. It really – um,” she broke off to lick her lips. Charlotte’s eyes ate up the motion hungrily. “Loosens you up. And . . . relaxes you.”
Charlotte knew for certain that de-stressing with Sutton would be amazing. The idea of fucking Sutton, of being the first woman to have the honor of it . . . the desire settled low in her stomach.
Even just kissing her, with those full lips so inviting and only inches away from her own, was unimaginably appealing.
She felt Sutton’s tentative fingertips brush over her own, curling lightly around hers. Her other hand started to crawl from where it rested between them to land on Sutton’s thigh, thumb stroking her through her leggings. Her own eyes fell closed as her head tilted.
“I'm – Charlotte?” Sutton’s barely-there whisper made her stop.
Because this was Sutton. Sutton who trembled at a kiss on her cheek. Whose blush Charlotte reveled in from a simple touch. Who Charlotte very much wanted to kiss, but . . .
She bit off a deep breath, and anticipation that had built up in her stomach died down as she leaned back a bit, sliding her hand off of Sutton’s thigh. Because regardless of the fact of attraction and wanting, they were not on the same page when it came to anything involving romance.
Sutton had been very clear, the entirety of their friendship, that she’d longed for something deep. Something lasting. Something that Charlotte herself didn’t even wa
nt, and was unable to provide even if she did want it.
Sutton was her friend, one who was turning into a good friend, at that. She was determined to be a good one, back. Even if that meant calling back her own urges when she felt them to preserve this friendship.
Sighing at herself, she lightly rubbed her fingers along the back of Sutton’s hand as she pulled all of the way back, taking in Sutton’s flushed cheeks and confused, widely-blinking eyes.
“Maybe we should do yoga, some day. Even though the movie was good, too,” she spoke softly, trying to use a light tone. It normally wasn’t difficult for her, masking over any emotion.
She could feel Sutton’s deep breath as she breathed out and sat back, looking as dazed as Charlotte felt inside.
“Maybe.”
Charlotte took a moment to close her eyes, taking in as much of a calming breath as she could, before she asked, “Do you want to watch another movie?”
“Sure,” Sutton whispered back.
Despite the fact that Charlotte could see that her hands were still slightly shaking, she gave Charlotte a slight smile.
Which Charlotte returned, even as she tried to keep her mind off of yoga with Sutton. Friends. She might not have many – any – female friends, but regardless of what Caleb thought, she could control herself.
Chapter 9
Sutton was nervous.
She wasn’t even sure how she’d gotten herself into this situation; okay, that was a lie, she definitely knew exactly how she’d gotten into this situation.
She was in this situation because of the women in her life.
Foremost, because Charlotte Thompson was ridiculously beautiful and sexy, even when she wasn’t trying to be. Which meant that Sutton was alarmingly, palms-sweating-ly attracted to her.
Which would have been fine, except for the fact that her crush had only grown in the last few weeks. It shouldn’t have been fair, she’d lamented – to herself – that Charlotte looked the way she looked, but she was also ridiculously smart, funny, ambitious . . .
And if all of that hadn’t sealed the deal on her feelings, there was the fact that Charlotte had those sparing moments of vulnerability with Sutton. Which made her feel special, in a way. In the way that she knew Charlotte didn’t have those moments often with other people.
