by Maggie Cole
So much has happened in the last week.
It’s only been a week.
In that time, I found Charlotte again, and I can’t lose her. When she’s not drugged up and feeling better, we need to talk. I need her to understand I will never have eyes for anyone but her—she is my everything.
I wonder if she will wake up tomorrow and everything that happened at Club D and the coffee shop will come flooding back.
Better to tell her first chance you get, so when she remembers it, she doesn’t flip.
I vow, as soon as she is not heavily medicated, that I’ll tell her exactly what happened. I only hope I get to tell her before she remembers it again and freaks.
25
Charlotte
Xander is still moaning, but we are moving.
Why are we moving? Where am I?
A stranger, a man I don’t know, is looking down at me.
“You’re doing good, Charlotte. We’re almost there.”
“Xander?” I call out, but all I hear is his moans.
“He’s right here. Just stay awake for me,” the strange man says.
I can’t move my neck, but I roll my eyes to the side and see Xander’s body. I see his face, but he’s in a neck brace, and a woman is hovering over him. His eyes are shut, and he keeps moaning, as if in pain.
“Xander,” I whisper and feel a tear run down my cheek.
“Charlotte, wake up,” I hear Xander say.
“Xander?” I try to look at him, and this time I can move my head.
He puts his hand on my cheek. “You were dreaming again.”
Closing my eyes, I think about my dream. I open them again. “We were in the ambulance.”
He nods. “I think your concussion jostled some memories of our accident. You’ve been having nightmares all night.”
I try to sit up, and it’s like someone is taking a hammer to my head.
“Whoa. Easy,” Xander instructs.
“Why do I hurt so bad?” I ask him.
“You got hit by a car yesterday.”
My eyes fling open as memories of Club D and the coffee shop come hurling at me.
“Billie,” I whisper.
Xander cups my face. “You need to listen to me. Nothing is going on with Billie and me. I don’t love her. I did not kiss her. She was drunk and about to fall. I did not know she would be in the coffee shop. I have zero feelings for her. I only love you.”
I scan his eyes, back and forth, so quickly I get dizzy.
“You’re on a lot of medication right now. We will talk about this later. All you need to know is that I only love you.” He brushes his lips against mine then takes the glass of water and a pill from the table. “Take this, or your pain will get a lot worse.”
I swallow the pill and water.
Maybe it’s because I’m in pain. Perhaps it’s because I can’t think straight. Whatever the reason, I let the thought of Billie fall out of my mind.
“Where do you hurt?”
Where do I hurt?
“My head...my wrist...” I glance down to see my wrist wrapped up in a brown bandage. I turn toward Xander, a little too fast and my head spins.
“Move slowly,” he tells me.
I study the bandage. “Did I break my wrist?”
“It’s only sprained. Everything is okay.” His voice is soft, and he brushes my hair off my face and kisses my forehead.
“Work. I have to call work.”
“Shh. They already know. Don’t worry. Just rest.” He pulls me into his arms, and I rest against him, drifting in and out of sleep. Every time I wake up, Xander is there, giving me medication, trying to get me to eat or drink, and holding me.
A few days of fogginess pass, and I wake up. The sun is beating in my window. Xander is sleeping beside me.
He looks peaceful, and I wonder how much sleep he’s had and what day it is. I ease free of his arm and sit up on the side of the bed. My phone tells me it’s Wednesday and past noon.
Has he been here since Sunday?
I stand slowly, walk into the bathroom, and turn on the shower. A faint memory of Xander combing my hair flashes through my mind.
I try to remember where it came from, but I can’t.
While the water is warming up, I brush my teeth, remove the wrap on my wrist then undress. I step into the shower and cry out as the water hits my back. I step forward, out of the way of the water.
Why did that hurt so badly?
“Charlotte, you okay?” Xander’s voice rings through the shower.
I turn behind me, and his face pops around the glass door.
“Why does the spray hurt my skin?”
“Your back is bruised from when you hit the ground.” He strips and steps into the shower.
I’m confused. He pulls me into him. “Come here, sweetheart. Let me help you.”
He grabs the sprayer and wets my hair.
Déjå vu hits me. “Have we done this before?”
He squeezed shampoo into his palm. “Yes, when you first got home from the hospital.”
When I first got home? On Sunday?
“I haven’t showered since Sunday?” I ask, horrified.
He works the shampoo into a lather on my hair. “Nope.”
“Yuck. I’m sorry.”
“There’s nothing to be sorry about. You’ve been sleeping.”
I let him wash and condition my hair, but images of him kissing Billie come into my mind. When he’s done rinsing my hair, I stare at him. “We need to talk, Xander.”
“Yeah, we do but not just about what happened.”
Confused, I tilt my head at him. “Besides your ex-girlfriend who you’ve obsessed about, locking lips with you, what else do we need to talk about?”
“Words with Friends.” He searches my eyes.
“Words with...” He knows it was me. I take a deep breath.
“The Damon situation.”
The Damon situation? What is there to talk about? Must be whatever HR did to him.
Xander turns the water off and gently dries me, being careful of my bruises. He grabs the robe hanging on the hook and helps me in it then towels himself off and wraps it around his waist.
“Go sit at your vanity.”
I say nothing and sit down. A million thoughts race through my mind, going back over all the conversations we had while we played Words with Friends.
Shit, shit, shit!
He combs my hair, wraps my wrist in a new bandage, and kisses me on my forehead. “I’m going to put some clothes on. I’ll bring you some clean pajamas.”
“Xander—”
He puts his finger over my mouth. “Get dressed, and then we’ll talk.”
We both quietly change.
“You hungry?” he asks.
I nod.
“Okay, let’s go.” He takes my hand and leads me out to the kitchen. He pulls out the barstool. “You want to sit here or on the couch?”
“This is fine.”
He pulls food out of my cabinets and fridge. I watch him, not sure what to even say.
I spent months talking to him, never revealing who I was. I lied to him and told him we didn’t know each other. I even told him to consider our conversations a safe zone.
Shit.
As I watch Xander make breakfast, the pit in my stomach grows. I should have told him the night we played Scrabble.
He dishes up food for us both then comes over and sits down next to me.
“I’m sorry,” I blurt out.
“Wait. Eat first. I’m switching your medication over. The stuff they have you on is super addictive. You need to eat to take the new medication.”
He pulls me onto his lap, and like the first night we met, he feeds me a bite of a pancake.
After I chew and swallow, he leans in and kisses me. It’s just a small peck, but it’s enough to confuse me. “Are you not mad at me?”
Xander shakes his head. “No. Why would I be mad?”
“I lied to you f
or months.”
He nods. “Yeah, you did, didn’t you?” He puts another bite of pancake in my mouth.
I chew, swallow, and say, “Why aren’t you mad?”
He hands me my pill and a glass of water. “Take your medicine.”
I obey then ask him again, “Why aren’t you mad?”
He continues to feed me. “Because I needed you, and you were there for me, even though I didn’t know it was you. You were light for me in my darkness.”
My heart beats harder. “I thought you said you were past the darkness when we first started playing again.”
He slowly shakes his head. “It still was popping up. It just wasn’t as often.”
“So you aren’t mad that I lied to you?”
“About that, no.”
I search his eyes. “Why do I feel like you are accusing me of something else?”
He lets out a sigh. “I’m not accusing you of anything, but I think you’ve missed telling me about some big details regarding Damon.”
What is he...? Oh God. My gut drops, and I turn away.
He puts the fork down and cups my chin, bringing me to face him again. “Charlotte, why didn’t you tell me?”
Blinking back tears, I tell him, “I don’t want to talk about it.”
How did he find out?
“Charlotte—”
I cut him off and stand up. “No. I’m not talking about it.”
Xander takes a deep breath. “You have to talk to me about it. It’s out there.”
The hair on the back of my neck stands up. “What do you mean, it’s out there?”
“He sent it to HR. He is using it to claim that you were harassing him and wouldn’t leave him alone after you broke up.”
“I don’t understand. What did he send?”
Xander’s eyes widen. “You don’t know?”
My entire body goes clammy. Whatever Xander knows that I don’t, it’s not good. “What?” I whisper.
“The video.”
“The video?”
“Did you not know he recorded you?”
Any remaining blood drains from my face. “What?”
“And it’s dated two months ago?” He pushed hair off my face.
I turn away and close my eyes, not able to bear looking at him. My stomach pitches, and I bend over, trying to stop the nausea.
“Charlotte, come sit down.” Xander leads me over to the couch.
Why is he calm about this?
I lean over and put my head between my legs. Xander wraps his arm around me and rests his hand on my hip.
This cannot be happening. I sit up. “What is on this video?”
A sympathetic expression crosses Xander’s face.
“Have you seen it?” I whisper.
“HR emailed it to you, and it popped up on your phone.”
My eyes widen in horror, and I shake my head. “No.”
He pulls me into him, but I push him away. I stand and go to my room.
“Charlotte—”
I turn back to him. “I want you to leave, Xander.”
“No. I’m not leaving.”
“Go,” I yell at him as tears stream out of my eyes.
He steps closer to me. “I said I’m not leaving.”
“Get out,” I cry, as embarrassment, anger, and shame all drive through me. And it’s not only at Damon, or myself. It’s at Xander as well.
Xander pulls me into his arms. “I’m not going anywhere.”
“You didn’t remember me. You told me all about her and how you’ve only ever loved her,” I sob into his chest, pushing against it with my fists. “I thought you were never coming back to me, and I needed you. I was so alone.”
He holds me tighter. “I’m so sorry. I know I wasn’t there for you.”
“I didn’t even know he was coming over. I just wanted to feel something besides pain,” I cry into his chest.
“Shh. It’s okay.” He kisses the top of my head.
“How did he record me?” I sob.
“I don’t know, sweetheart. I don’t know,” he murmurs.
I pull away. “I need to see it.”
Xander sighs and looks at me then hands my phone to me with the email.
“Can you go into the other room, please?” I ask.
“I will, but I’m not leaving now or after you watch it.” He shuts my door behind him.
I go and sit on the bed. I feel sick but know I need to watch it. I push play, and it starts. When it ends, one thing is clear. Damon has stripped the audio and made it appear like things went further than they did.
26
Charlotte
Two Months Earlier
Nephric, Xander puts down on the board as the screen tallies the total and claims he wins.
“Finally!” comes across the chat box.
I laugh. “You were kind of overdue.”
“Ouch!” he writes back.
We banter back and forth a bit. And because I have to torment my soul, I ask him, “Have any new memories about Billie popped up?”
“No. My friends keep trying to tell me I don’t love her.”
I don’t respond for a minute. I know I need to stop playing with Xander every night and talking with him, but I can’t. I’m addicted to playing with him and keeping him in my life. I miss him so much, and our conversations sometimes fill a hole in my heart and at others, rip it open wider.
Tonight, it’s ripping it open wider. But I have to continue asking him. The ache I feel for him is worse at times, but I continue the destruction of my heart.
“What do you think?”
“She’s the only woman I’ve ever loved and the only one I ever will. It would be impossible for my friends to be right.”
Tears stream down my face. It’s not a different story from any other night, but it hits me really hard.
What if he never really loved me?
No, he did.
Did he really?
As my mind plays games with me and my heart shatters, my doorbell rings. I’m not expecting anyone. “Hello?” I say into the intercom.
“Hey, it’s Damon. I heard you’re back. I brought some dinner over.”
Damon? He wasn’t exactly nice when we broke up. What is he doing here?
Against my better judgement, I buzz him in. When he gets inside my apartment, he’s holding bags of food and says, “Charlotte, have you been crying?”
I rub my fingers on my cheeks, trying to wipe the stains away. “I’m fine. Just had a bout of pain.”
He pulls me into his arms, and even though it isn’t Xander’s arms, it’s comforting to have someone hold me. It’s been so long since I’ve had any contact with anyone. I’ve been avoiding my friends and making excuses not to allow them to come over. I’ve even not answered the door when they’ve showed up unannounced.
Damon kisses me on the head. “Go get comfy on the couch. Let me fix you a plate of dinner.”
If I had been thinking straight, I never would have let him into my apartment. I would have listened to my gut say, “Don’t let him in.” Damon revealed his not-so-nice colors when I broke up with him, and the things he said to me I wouldn’t ever forget.
But here he is, bringing me dinner and trying to comfort me.
Maybe I’m wrong about him?
He’s not Xander.
You need to get over Xander. He’s over you.
Damon goes into the kitchen. I need to use the bathroom so I excuse myself. When I return, I’m heading for the armchair, but he says, “No, sit on the couch.”
My gut asks me why, but I don’t listen and go sit on the couch.
“Here, have a drink.”
I don’t think and drink it. I cough, as the hard alcohol burns my throat. I put it down on the table.
“Jesus, Damon. There’s no mixer in this. It probably has three or four shots in it.”
Damon picks up my glass and hands it to me. “It’ll help your pain. Just take another sip.”
Please
put me out of my misery.
I take another sip then blurt out, “Why are you here? We don’t exactly hang out? You said you hated me.”
“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that.” He leans into me. “I don’t hate you.”
The buzz of the alcohol works its way through me. I don’t even think about the fact I’m on pain medication and shouldn’t be mixing any alcohol with what is already in my body.
“You don’t hate me?”
He shakes his head. “No. I’m sorry I was such a dick. I came over to be your friend. Can I just be your friend right now?”
If it was any other day, I would be cautious. But the combination of Xander declaring his love for Billie again, the emptiness I’ve felt for so many months, and all my sadness, don’t allow me to be. I fall for his trap.
“I would like that.” I look into his eyes.
“Good.” He hands me my glass and picks up his. “To friendship.” He clinks my glass and we both drink.
The burn of the vodka runs down my throat and into my empty stomach. Maybe this is what I need to feel better.
We joke around for a bit and continue to drink. The food stays in the kitchen. It’s been so long since I’ve talked to anyone. Since I’ve been ignoring the girls messages, the only person I’ve been having conversations with is Xander, and that is only through messenger.
I don’t know if it’s because I haven’t drunk since before the accident, or because I haven’t eaten all day, but suddenly, I’m feeling better than I have in a long time. And it feels good to feel happiness, even if it is a false happiness from the alcohol.
Damon runs his finger from my lips, down my chest and stomach, stopping right above my mound. “Friends help each other out, don’t you think?”
My chest heaves. I know what he’s implying, and I should tell him to go, but I need to feel something besides pain. I think of Xander and how he’s searching for Billie, not thinking anything about me, while I wallow in heartbreak.
Maybe Damon isn’t so bad after all? Maybe I should give him another chance? Maybe I’ll be able to forget about Xander?
“Yes,” I breathe.
Damon leans closer, puts my glass to my mouth, and I take a sip. The burn of the alcohol once again runs down my throat and I cringe, but he gives me another sip.
