Chapter Twenty - Part One
Charlie
Why is he even trying to be a gentleman? He said it himself, one way or another I will be his. Lying in bed staring at the ceiling unable to sleep, just allows me to ponder my sense of despair more than I wish. It forces me to sit wide awake in my dark room, obsessing about Maxwell. How I want him to touch me, how I want to hear him say my name one more time.
The worst part is that I’m not sure if that’s me wanting that or this stupid bond.
When I jolt awake from my alarm clock, I realize I must have fallen asleep, although I’m not sure at what hour the exhaustion took over. Moving my tired heavy limbs, I gradually get ready for work. I used to love work, that’s until Morgan actively became team Maxwell. I highly doubt she would be praising him so much if she knew he was dead.
The whole car ride my brain tries to register what my dear ancestors had me born into. Did they seriously think Maxwell wouldn’t come looking for what he thinks is his? A shiver runs down my spine. Maxwell believes I’m his property—even if he won’t flat out say it. Hell, I’m the man’s food source. All this time, I’ve looked past the fact that he’s a blood-sucking monster who’s three hundred years old, only to have it slapped back in my face. It’s hard to explain, but I don’t care he’s a vampire and that’s the part that scares me.
I stop at Starbucks to get a peace offering for Morgan. Balancing the two cups as I unlock the front door is tricky, but I get behind her desk without a spill. The wait I endure is agonizing, but small sips of my latte calm my nerves.
She walks in a few minutes later with a confused look on her face. “Something wrong, Charlie?” she asks as her hazel eyes continue to question me.
Holding out the still hot cappuccino I got her, I allow a smile to find my lips. “A peace offering. I know it’s a little late considering you lectured me four days ago, but things between us have been…awkward. I just want you to know that I thank you for your insight and telling me what I already know, what I didn’t want to admit. However, I need time to process Maxwell. He’s not as charming as you think he is. Dave either.”
Morgan’s smile is all I need to know that she understands and to some extent accepts my apology. “Now, if you excuse me, I have tons of work to do before I’m forced to go on a date...with Dave.” Holding my cup high in the air as a salute of some sort, I walk away.
The clock ticks away the minutes, and the sun slowly starts to set, leaving my office dark and my eyelids tired. Laying my head on my desk and closing my eyes, I repeat in a hush voice, just a few minutes.
“Charlie, Charlie, wake up.” A soft, nurturing voice slowly makes reality set in.
When I start to feel a nudge that gets more aggressive with each tap, I whip my head off the desk. “I’m up, I’m up,” I repeat more to myself than who I now know to be Morgan.
“Dave’s here for you and he’s not happy.”
I rub my head, trying to get rid of the slight headache that’s growing under my skull. “What time is it?”
“Five minutes after seven.”
“Shit, no wonder he’s not happy. Send him in.” I watch Morgan leave the room only to be replaced by a flustered Dave.
“You fell asleep in your office when you knew that at seven o’clock I was going to pick you up at your house.” I can almost feel the anger radiate off him. His blond hair seems more ruffled and his face is gradually turning an unflattering shade of red.
“It’s not as if I did it intentionally.” Unexpectingly my anger comes out in a sing song voice. “These past few weeks have been pretty stressful, making it extremely hard to sleep. I’m up now. We can just go straight to the restaurant.”
“We’re late. Junction 22 doesn’t take in late guests, but I called and our new reservation is in twenty minutes thankfully.”
“Thank god for you quick thinking. Do won’t let a girl slip outta this one.” I mutter under my breath, but as I give him a quick glance I can tell that he heard. “Well? Lead the way.” My palms slap at my dress in efforts of straightening it out as I stand up.
“What the hell happened to your hand?” He takes a few steps toward me reaching for my still injured left palm.
I didn’t even realize that he knew nothing of my first incident, making him even more shocked to see the white gauze encasing my hand. Although, when he showed up in my office the other day to force me into this date I had the injury. He must’ve been too pissed to notice. Now he’s so pissed he notices everything.
“I had a mishap a few days ago. Nothing important, you can ask Morgan about it if you want.” My shoulder bumps into his arm as I walk past him; the dire need to get out of this room starts to make me sweat. “Can you lock up, Morgan?” I holler at her as I rush out the front doors.
“Sure can. Have fun.” From what I do manage to hear before I get too far away, her voice sounds uneven as if she’s nervous about this date. Who isn’t?
Turning toward my car, Dave harshly pulls me toward him when he finally catches up. “We’re going in the same car. This is a date, after all. We can get your car later.”
Can this ‘date’ get any worse? Staying completely silent the whole way to the restaurant, my fingers can’t help but shake. Thoughts about how I would prefer to be going to this so called date with Maxwell flood my mind. I can’t help but find myself wishing that I was in his company instead of Dave’s. Snap out of it, Charlie, snap out of it. My truth should I would rather be at work or home...alone.
Dave repeatedly tries to hold my uninjured hand and loop my arm through his on the short walk to the entrance of the restaurant, but I refuse by keeping my arms tightly at my sides. The familiar hostess leads us to a table. When she sits us at the same table that Maxwell and Eugene were sitting at when I was here for Harlow’s birthday party, I realize that this date can get worse…much worse. Just sitting across from the spot that Maxwell occupied only makes my thoughts turn to daydreams as I catch myself envisioning Dave as Maxwell.
With our drinks ordered, I allow the menu to take my mind off the awful situation. I know the menu by heart considering it’s not that complex and only bears a few items on it, but it’s better than focusing on Dave, who sits and stares at me, expecting something to happen.
He’s the first to break the silence between us. His hand tips the menu down to reveal me cowering behind it. “We need to talk.”
Those words, those dreadful words. How many times am I going to be told by a man nonetheless, that they need to ‘talk’ me? “Go on.” Annoyance fills my voice without me wanting it to. Sometimes my nerves make me sound like a bitch, but that doesn’t seem to prevent bad stupid things spewing from people mouths.
Before he answers me, the waitress comes back with our drinks and takes our order. Only when we hand our menus over and the young gal walks away he decides to talk. “How was your day prior to falling asleep at your desk?”
That’s not what I was expecting him to say. He’s trying to make this light and airy when its really heavy and weighed down. “Busy, I have a lot to catch up on. My days away weren’t even close to a vacation. All it really did was create more work for me.”
“Since you mentioned it, what exactly did you do when you were at your meeting?” The skepticism that his voice is laced with turns my contempt mood sour. He knows it wasn’t a business trip as I insinuated before I left and I don’t blame him. He calls and talks to a man he never heard of before or met, who had been accompanying me. Anyone would instantly question why a stranger would assist me at a business meeting instead of one of my own employees or someone who’s familiar with not just my business, but with my personal life.
“Nothing important, potential clients.”
“This Maxwell knows them then, I presume.”
“That would be the reason why he came along. Can we talk about something else or maybe not talk at all?” As if the heavens finally open up, our appetizers arrive. I take a few bites without waiting for him to ask me his next question, because I know better than anyone he can’t stay quiet for long.
To my surprise, he lets me eat. Conversations that surround us draw my attention away; my eyes search each table, refusing to look at Dave. An arm reaches over me to take the empty plates away; for the first time tonight I look at the waitress’s name tag, Lily.
Wanting Lily to stay at the table as long as possible to get rid of this awkward silence that looms between Dave and me, I can’t help but to stare after her as she walks away. She disappears into the kitchen after she waves toward the bartender, the same bartender from my previous visit as well.
Several people crowd the bar; the overconfident bartender flirts with all the younger girls and acts macho in front of the male customers. He acts extra friendly to a man who leans against the countertop, laughing at his jokes and tipping drinks in favor. The stranger’s almost shoulder length brown hair looks awfully familiar. My shaky hand gropes for the glass of water I ordered.
“Charlie, are you okay?” Dave’s hand lightly caresses mine.
My eyes remain on the back of the stranger’s head at the bar. I praised the heavens earlier, but now…now the gates of hell have opened as the man at the bar turns his head the tiniest bit. I know that face anywhere with its strong jaw line, smooth pink lips and let’s not forget its creamy pale skin tone. He keeps his back to me not turning his head enough for me to see his eyes, but I don’t need to see those deep brown eyes to know that Maxwell just crashed my date.
A sharp jerk of my hand shakes Dave’s clenching fingers from me. Almost as if it’s in slow motion, my hand hits my water glass that I was inches away from toppling it over. When the cold liquid runs down the table and puddles in my lap I abruptly stand up from my chair. Several people turn to look at me, all except Maxwell. He just straightens his towering six-foot frame from his hunched position. Lily rushes over with towels, but I don’t allow her to help.
“I’m just going to go to the bathroom and fix myself up.” I reach the hallway leading to the bathrooms and whisper, “Now.” Knowing Maxwell is listening.
Tick tock…tick tock.
“You do know how to get everyone’s attention in a crowded room, don’t you?” Maxwell’s cocky voice finally comes around the corner I’m waiting behind.
“You,” I say in the most accusing manner.
“Hold on a second, you’re mad at me as if I was the one to spill water on you in your very sexy dress, by the way.” A smirk spreads across his mouth as his fingertip traces one of the cutouts in the dress.
Angry at him and myself, I shove him. Except he doesn’t stumble or budge from his stance, which is mere inches away from me. My hands pound at his hard chest as incoherent words stream from my mouth. “You jerk, y-you jackass. What the hell are you doing here?” My teeth forcefully grind together, distorting my rant.
“This is a public place, Charlie. I happen to be here on a date as well.”
“What.” It’s not a question, but a blunt statement, causing my hands to fall from his chest. Emotions and bad acting give my hurt feelings away. My blood races through my veins. Who is it? Stella?
I stare at him wide-eyed when he starts to laugh in my face. “Calm down, my love,” his hand carresses my cheek, “I’m just joking. Now you know how I feel when I watch you at that table with him.” A quick nod of his head points toward where Dave sits.
As a low moan rumbles in my chest, my hands ball into fists. Unintentionally, I shake them in his face with rage. Who in the world does he think he is anyways? I’m so mad at him I can’t even think straight, let alone put any words together. Not to mention the anger that I have for myself.
The coldness of his touch as he rubs my arms soothes my anger; I’ve been waiting for that coolness to engulf me for days. I physically shake myself from the thought. I don’t want to die, I don’t want to die, I chant to myself.
“I’m sorry I upset you, but this date is a waste of your time and it’s wearing my patience thin.”
“You did not just say that. Do you not listen to me when I talk to you or do you just stare off into space thinking about blood?”
“You’re implying that this date is my fault?” One of his hands leaves my arm to point to himself in astonishment. “If I recall, you agreed to go on a date with him to help Morgan out.”
“Let’s not bring Morgan into this. And don’t you for a second forget I know you visited her at her apartment. How you even know where she lives is beyond me, but your sly ways are growing old. Back on the subject of Dave, the problem you caused when you answered my phone in Austria or took my phone away for that matter, I could have ignored him. Could’ve put this off for weeks, but no.”
He remains silent, taking in the guilt he should be shouldering.
Before he has a chance to speak, I continue my hate speech. “You know what, I don’t need a response, I don’t want a response. How about that? I’m going to sit back at that table in my wet dress and finish this date I’m stuck on because of you. So think about that.” My feet take three steps away from him before they turn around, leading me toward him again. “No showing up tomorrow. Is that clear?”
When he nods his head just once, I try to walk away for the second time, but after turning away I turn back toward him with my finger inches away from his face. “No more spying on me either. Understood?”
He nods again and this time I tell myself to be strong and walk away. However, just as I turn around, Maxwell’s strong fingers grip my upper arm, spinning me around to face him yet again. As I make eye contact with him, I know what’s to happen next. I can start talking or shove him away, but for some reason I act startled and let the events play out. Within seconds, Maxwell’s lips touch mine.
“Let that help you remember where you belong. With me.” he says before letting me go.
With wobbly legs, I make my way back to a nervous Dave. His saddened expression just makes matters worse. The only good thing that happened while I was gone was our food being delivered. The touch of my plate is still hot, meaning that it hasn’t been sitting here long.
“Is something wrong? I never remembered you being so clumsy.”
“Nothing. I just thought I saw something. Can we just get this night done with?” I know I hurt his feelings with my rude attitude, but there’s this nagging feeling eating at me that he expects something to come out of this, be it a stronger friendship or a romantic relationship. The only way I know how to prevent a conversation pertaining to either of those two concepts is to ignore it.
With the tab paid not soon after, the seat belts buckle us into another uncomfortable situation. Plenty of stoplights decide to turn red on our way back to my car. When Dave turns the radio louder at the start of a particular song, I can’t help but to wither in the seat. There’s no missing its hidden meaning, well, not so hidden meaning.
I take a chance to glace at Dave. He lip syncs the words perfectly. Something about you belong to me and being his sweetheart. Uh-oh. Thank goodness the familiar parking lot that is starting to come into view. He parks next to my car, keeping the engine on and the doors locked. I snap the handle a few times to tell him to unlock the doors without saying a word, afraid that my bad attitude will just create more problems.
“I’m sorry,” he blurts out of nowhere.
I’ve heard it so many times I’m not sure what this apology is for. “For what exactly?” I want to ask if he’s sorry for keeping me trapped in here or forcing me to go on a date with him, but I decide against it.
“For everything. You were right before with the whole ‘someone else wanting what you had’ thing. But, that doesn’t make my guilt any worse. I miss you Charlie.” His fingers fiddle against the steering wheel and his eyes don’t leave the dashboard.
“I figured that much. You can unlock the door now. Please.” In a fit of anger I keep my manners in check. Maybe it’ll help him calm down...or help me keep my cool.
“You don’t understand. I’m trying to be compassionate and understanding.” His voice rises with anger at my refusal to accept another one of his apologies.
“No, you don’t understand. I don’t need your compassion or understanding. I already forgave you and you need to move past this.” My fingers wrap around the door handle waiting for the click of the locks.
There’s a silence that builds within the car. It’s almost crushing. Then like a breath of fresh air the quiet click breaks it. Before I can even open my door Dave’s voice stops me. “I’m not giving up on us. I did before, but I’m not again. I will never move past you...us.”
Exiting the car as fast as possible, I refuse to look back. All my words get stuck in my throat, jamming together unable to find their order. Second by second they begin to suffocate me. I take deep breaths to calm the storm that rages inside me on my way back home. I blast the local rock station on the radio hoping it drowns my feelings in submission.
The date itself didn’t last that long. I get home before nine giving me plenty of time to try to sleep. Changing into my pajamas, I watch a little TV before I try to go to bed. No matter how many meaningless TV shows I watch, several hours later drowsiness doesn’t find me.
I shuffle my dead feet to my bedroom. At least tomorrow will be better, I tell myself as I lie beneath my comforte, staring at the ceiling. It is only when I feel a chill in the air that my body completely relaxes and my eyelids close in expectancy of sweet dreams.