40 ~ Sour as a Byronic Hero-3

"Don't fuck with me, Ben. She's always looked at you the same way. I know there's an explanation to this." I scoffed, waving the hope aside. "Are you kidding me right now, Clark? She looks at everyone like that, that's how she is." I couldn't even pretend anymore that I had been any different. I was probably being dramatic, but I didn't care. I was feeling dramatic and sad and felt that it was warranted. "Yeah, but there's a big difference between the way she looks at you and the way she looks at everyone else." "There is no big difference, stop trying to make me feel better. She's got a boyfriend." "But I bet she doesn't look at him like he's her whole world." My jaw clicked. "She never looked at me like that either." Clark glared at me. "Don't even, mate. You know it. She looks at you like you're the centre of her universe. She looks at you like everything's okay because you're there, so why don't you grow a pair and show her that the feeling's mutual? Go and find her, you great galoot! Listen to her! Don't let go." Maybe there was an explanation to all of this. Lottie wouldn't just lie so blatantly. She wasn't a cheater, right? There was no way everything we'd been through had shown anything but her true self. I knew Lottie, and I knew that I knew her. She wasn't a liar, and she wasn't unfaithful. I had been an idiot and not trusted her. I jumped to my feet and began to pace back and forth. She would never answer her phone if she saw it was from me now. Where would she be? Still at her father's? "I'll be back soon, Clark," I said hurriedly, grabbing my car keys and heading for the door. "Good boy," I heard him say. I yanked open the door and almost toppled over in surprise when I saw a dripping wet Lottie standing there, holding a big silver tin, one of her hands raised to knock. "Lottie? Oh shit, come it, you're soaked." "Excellent observation, my good man," she said, but most of the cheekiness was lost amidst her chattering. My eyes widened and I grabbed her arm, pulling her inside into our heated apartment. "Hello, Clark!" "Alright, Lottie?" he replied casually, a giant grin on his face. "I'll grab a towel," I muttered, kind of at loss for words. How did she get here without a ride? Why would she come back? After I was such a dick, I wasn't sure why she would come back. I jogged over to the bathroom and picked up the cleanest, driest towel I could find, as well as a shirt and sweats from my room. "I'll give you guys some privacy," Clark sang, grabbing his coat and walking out. I stared at Lottie shivering on the sofa where I had been wallowing in self-pity just a few minutes ago, and I walk up to her with my head hanging. "Here," I said, my voice low. She smiled politely and takes the clothes from my hand. "I'll be out in a minute," she said. I nod in agreement and watched as she scampered to the bathroom. Already, I felt myself warm up at the sight of her, as if I'd already forgiven her. As if I needed to forgive her in the first place? But before I could touch her again, I really needed to know what was going on. I waited impatiently for a few minutes, and when Lottie emerged from the loo, I sprung to my feet. My mouth went dry when I saw her in my clothes, my towel in her hair, and I swallowed hard. I didn't have the right. "I think..." I said. "I think I owe you an apology." Lottie looked at my under her eyelashes and sat cross-legged on the floor, her back against the sofa. "Why?" she asked curiously. I took a deep breath. "Because I said some horrible things, and I was really horrible. I'm sorry, Lottie, really, I am." "No, no, it's alright. It's me who should be apologising to you." I looked at her in disbelief, and knew that if she really already had a boyfriend, I would probably just wallow in self-pity for the next one hundred years. "Why?" I echoed her. "I should have cut to the chase and told you exactly what was going on." "Well, if you could tell me now..." She giggled, and I drank in the sound. At least she didn't sound so horribly hurt by what I'd said. "Alright, Ben. If you want the short version, when I was sixteen, I met Rick Bienvenue. He was a nice guy, and really sweet, so when he asked me out, I said yes." I closed my eyes, not wanting to listen to this. "But then, right before I moved to Manchester for uni, he got in this horrible car accident. It was kept very down-low, because the hitter was his father and they didn't want a scandal out. Rick lost his memory, and so he lost all memory of me. His doctor didn't want me around, because he said Rick needed family, not outsiders to help him heal. So I told Rick that I was breaking up with him when he had no idea what was going on, and I guess he just got his memory back." "Do you...love him?" I asked, coaching my voice to keep low and even, and not crack. Lottie smiled at me. "No. I just liked him, and now, after seeing how crude he's become, I don't. I couldn't even recognise him at first, because he was dressed so differently and had dyed his hair. You should know that I don't love him, Benny." Hearing her say that made me feel more and more like a fucking disgusting jackass. "God, I'm sorry, Lottie. I'm sorry," I said, my face in my hands. "Oh, it's okay. I'm just glad you're not calling me Charlotte anymore." I looked up and saw her smiling gently at me. "How come you came back when I was so terrible to you? Why didn't you stay with your dad?" "I wasn't going to," she said absentmindedly, picking up the silver tin she'd brought in with her. "I was really hurt, so I went to the fridge to stuff my face like any other hormonal, menstruating female." I gulped at her choice of words, and then my eyes widened when I realised what she'd brought in the tin. "You didn't-" "Remember how you said you never loved me? That was a lie," she said. "You shouldn't lie, Benjamin." Lottie opened the top of the tin, and I saw my lopsided, sad excuse for a cake inside, with the messy white icing on the top spelling, 'I love you.' I bit my lip. "I'm so sorry." "That's not what I wanted to hear from you, Ben," she said expectantly. I blinked and then realised what she wanted. "Charlotte Carter," I said, scooting over and throwing my arm around her shoulders. "Hm?" She closed her eyes and rested her head on my chest and I knew she could feel my accelerated heartbeat. "Lottie..." "I once said I loved writing more than anything else in the entire world," she whispered. "But there is one thing even better than that." "Hm?" I asked softly. "It's you."