All the blood is rushing to Justin’s head. He realizes this but he doesn’t do anything to rectify it, just continues to let his neck hang back off the side of the bed, staring unseeingly at the room upside down in front of him. The plush hotel room rug is the ceiling and all the furniture hangs from it perfectly silhouetted against the large windowpane that showcases the Los Angeles skyline, the buildings tearing jaggedly into a sky tinged purple with the oncoming sunset. His vision is slightly fuzzy, his eyes feeling as if they’re too big for the sockets and he really should sit up or he’s going to have a bitch of a headache but he stays where he is because keeping all the blood in his body inside his head is the only way to keep it from spinning off into oblivion.
When his alarm had gone off this morning his chest had been full, dread settling on him like a heavy coat and as he’d dressed he felt almost as if he were readying himself for his own funeral. He was used to the guilt by now. Two days of forcing smiles at his fiancé, insisting that he was fine, and trying his best not to think about the way Charlotte’s face had fallen as he’d left her office on Friday. The complexity of his emotions was staggering, beginning with his anger—at himself, at Amelia for changing so drastically and at Charlotte for… for what being the same? Being better? He wasn’t sure. As he grew more and more accustomed to the guilt, living with it and through it, he was given the time to analyze it and try to understand it which only gave way to more questions, even the simple emotion of guilt complicated beyond his comprehension. He felt horrible for his betrayal and every time he looked at Amelia he had to stop himself from falling to his knees and begging for forgiveness. After everything she’s done to him he still loves her, loves her so deeply and the fact that he could feel that way about her and still – he refuses to think the word cheat – only makes him hate himself more. But weaving with that was also the guilt of how he’d treated Charlotte. How short he’d been with her, the slight tinge of her face that showed how deeply he’d hurt her haunting him late at night when he couldn’t sleep, his arm curled loosely around his fiancé’s waist.
The events of the day replay themselves over and over again in his head and it’s like his own personal torture reel as he remembers the silent ride to the airport, the wide stretch of seat as she put as much space between them as possible. Then the plane ride, the silence continuing to stretch on, building an invisible wall between them, every minute like a brick that was being cemented in place.
He misses her. He misses her so desperately, longing for her in a way that had very little to do with sex although that was part of it. Charlotte was his sounding board; if he was confused she could set him right or at least get him going in the right direction. His first response to his confusion was resolving to talk to her about it but his mind stuttered when he realized he couldn’t and he had no other solution. What’s he supposed to do when she is exactly the person he needs advice on how to approach? It’s then that he realizes that she has become one of his closest friends, maybe even his best friend now that he and Trace didn’t see each other very often anymore. She understands him and she puts up with all his bullshit and she cares about him, him, his wants and needs when so often he was overlooked. And he had royally fucked everything up.
Sex ruins everything, his mind taunts and he squeezes his eyes shut, forcing the memory back, the response second nature to him now after two days of searing guilt but he knows he needs to feel this, to understand what is going on in his head so he can fix this. He has to fix this. He let’s his mind wander tentatively, treading carefully over feelings that are unfamiliar and yearnings that he knows are wrong but can’t help feeling them anyway. He lets the memories wash over him, his body heating up just slightly when he remembers the sound of his name passing her lips, the gentle scrape of her fingernails across the back of his neck. But stronger than that is the way her eyes lit up on Christmas morning when she opened the record he’d given her, the wide smile she’d given him while dancing at his birthday party and even as far back as that business lunch for Kalayah’s album where she looked him straight in the eye and told him he could do it. She’d always believed in him even when he wasn’t sure. She’s his best friend.
And that’s when he realizes that guilt hasn’t been the only thing that’s been torturing him these past few days. The pain he is feeling is his heart breaking, sadness at the loss of one of his best friends so severe that he’s drowning in it. It has nothing to do with sex, he tells himself as Amelia’s face surfaces in his mind. The sex was just…just… Amazing, his brain offers and he scoffs, bringing his hands up to press the heels of his palms into his eyes rubbing roughly. It was just… something that had happened. He and Charlotte are more than that, he tells himself, their friendship is strong enough to get past it. It has to be. They just need to talk, as much as he doesn’t want to and as afraid as he is of what might come from it they can’t go on like this. She matters too much to him to let it go on like this and he can only hope that somewhere deep down she feels the same.
He rolls onto his stomach, reaching for the phone.
***
Charlotte sighs, padding out of the bathroom, rubbing her head roughly with the fluffy white hotel towel. She’d been convinced a long hot shower was just what she had needed to wash away the horrible day she’d had but as she’d stood under the spray, letting the water scald her she found she couldn’t escape it. Her thoughts were jumbled with memories and worries, sadness and of course the longing for him, something that involved so much more than sex although she couldn’t help letting her mind wander there as well.
If she were honest with herself she’d say that she’d been looking forward to this trip. She’s never been further west than Saint Louis and despite what is happening between she and Justin she’s been excited to see California, to stay in one of the most famous hotels in Los Angeles. She wants to see the Pacific Ocean, see Hollywood. She’d sort of been hoping that Justin would take her around a little. She’d let little scenarios float throughout her brain, going to the beach with him, dinner in little hole in the wall places he used to frequent when he lived out here and in her last fading thoughts before sleep she’d dreamed of a hushed phone call in the middle of the night, calling her to him and then...and then…
But all of that had been snuffed out with one look at him when she’d climbed into the towncar this morning. He hadn’t even said hello, just blinked slowly at her and she’d dropped her gaze almost immediately as she slid across the leather seats, leaving a wide space between them and they’d spent the day in utter silence.
The hardest part of this, she thinks, is not knowing. She always took comfort in knowing Justin because Amelia was so unpredictable, her intentions always uncertain and her moods liable to turn in a matter of seconds. But Justin was steadfast and almost predictable, honest and forthcoming with how he felt and what he wanted. She liked that their relationship had gotten to that level. It’d been a long time since she’d known someone as well as him. Or as well as she thought she had.
The hardest part is not knowing, not being able to read him. Every time she’d chanced a glance in his direction his face had been smooth and blank, no sign of anger or remorse, no sign of anything and she hated not knowing. Was he angry over what they’d done or was he merely too much of a coward to breach the subject?
He’d made no effort to clue her in, his politeness cold and the silence, god, the silence between them was deafening. The hardest blow however came ironically enough with the first words he’d spoken to her all day. When they’d arrived at the hotel, he’d mentioned hitting the golf course but said she didn’t have to come. It was the way he’d said it, trying to make it sound like he was letting her off the hook but she could read the undertones all too well. He didn’t want her with him. He didn’t want her.
It stung, still stings, just like it did when he didn’t want her to come on this trip. She doesn’t understand how he can be so cold, how he can throw away everything that they’ve built together. She’d always fancied that he liked her so much because they knew what it was like to deal with Amelia day in and day out. Even though neither of them would ever admit it, the evidence was there in honest exasperations and shared looks. It was nice just knowing that someone else got just as vexed as she did, that she wasn’t alone.
Despite how he’s treated her over the past few days, she knows he’s a good man under everything, the part of her heart that belongs exclusively to him shouting down the cynical part of her brain that says she’s an idiot for believing in him. She believes he’s good, just clumsy with other’s feelings, unknowing and bumbling as he is with so many other things as well and that’s the hardest part she thinks, knowing that he is good, really is trying. Just not trying for her.
She doesn’t really know what to believe anymore. She’d spent the entire day in her hotel room, watching television or sitting in silence next to the window, watching well-dressed men and women weave in and out of expensive shops, Mercedes and BMWs crawling down the street. After six hours of being nowhere else but inside her own head and a shower that left her skin red and tingling she’s decided it’s time to let her heart shut down and for her brain to take over, something she should have let happen all along. What they had – their friendship – apparently meant much less to him than it did to her and it would be easier to let him go now, although she doesn’t really see how, the pain in her chest deep and unrelenting.
It is all for the best, she tells herself, forcing down the lump in her throat. The towel falls to the floor and she allows herself to fall back onto the large hotel bed, her body sinking into the layers of heavy bedding and takes comfort in it, feeling as if she were being enveloped, held and protected. She shouldn’t allow herself to cry anymore. It’s over and done with and she forces herself to be honest with herself. She and Justin were never anything more than a kiss in a stairwell and a quick fuck on a desk. They may have been friends at some point, best friends even but that seemed to be over now too. The words don’t comfort her but thinking them is the first step to getting over this, saying them comes next and maybe eventually she’ll start to believe them and it won’t hurt anymore.
The ring of the phone breaks her from her thoughts and she sighs, flinging her arm out to reach for it wearily. She really hopes that it isn’t Amelia. Her hand snatches back suddenly as a horrible thought dawns on her. Amelia…What if this whole trip was one big set up? Why else would Amelia tell her to book that huge penthouse suite for Justin and then leave no particular instructions for Charlotte’s lodgings. Did Amelia expect them to shack up? Was there a private detective lurking around the corner waiting with a camera to catch them in the act? The phone is still ringing and jarring her brain enough so that she reaches for it quickly, not wanting to let Amelia think that she’s anywhere but her own room.
“Hello?” she asks, her head falling back against the pillow, eyes sinking closed. The line is silent and she cracks her eyes open, her brows drawing in confusion. “Hello?” she questions again and she hears a sharp intake of breath on the other line before the sound of a throat being cleared.
“Um…hey…”
She sits up suddenly, peeling her wet hair away from her cheeks and her heart thumps wildly in her chest at the mere sound of his voice. “Oh…uh…hi.” She bites her lip to control the panting of her breath and all she hears is static on the line. “Justin?”
“Yeah it’s me,” he says, his voice low and quiet and she has to press the receiver hard against her ear to hear him.
“Is…is everything okay?” she prompts when he doesn’t continue, her fingers tangling nervously in the phone cord.
“Uh…yeah!” he says, his voice falsely bright and the sound hurts her ears. “Um…yeah I mean…” there’s a long pause and then she hears the crackle of his sigh through the line. “No…no it’s not okay.” Her heart is racing, blood pounding so loudly in her ears that she almost misses what he says next. “Can you come up here?”
She blinks slowly, her breathing shallow. He just asked her to come up to his room. Her heart feels as if it could beat out of her chest, a flash of adrenaline warming her and she swallows hard, her hand beginning to tremble so that the receiver shakes against her ear.
“Justin…we…we shouldn’t,” she says, her fingers tangling tighter in the phone cord, her voice shaking just slightly.
“No!” his voice booms through the phone and it hurts her ears. “No, I…” he lets out a soft chuckle and she can practically see the crimson of his cheeks. “Not…not like that.”
“O-oh…” Charlotte says and she feels her own cheeks burn. “Yeah…of-ofcourse not,” she chuckles herself, rolling her eyes at her own idiocy. Jesus, Charlie…
“I just…” the line goes quiet again and all she can hear is the faint crackle of his breath and her fingers curl tightly around the receiver, her eyes closing as she just listens to him breathe, her heart calling to him through the line even though her brain tries to silence it with logic. He’s not yours to have, Charlie. You have to let go.
“How can I help you?” Charlotte asks trying to keep her voice as even as possible, startled by how strange the words sound coming out of her mouth. How can I help you? What I am the front desk clerk? She does her best to swallow the lump in her throat and he makes a sound she can’t quite decipher.
“I…I don’t wanna do this over the phone, Charlie. Will you please-”
“Don’t call me that,” she quietly cuts him off and this time there’s no mistaking his growl. “We can’t keep doing this,” she says feebly when he doesn’t respond and she hears him sigh again.
“You’re the only one I can talk to,” he says softly and Charlotte’s heart breaks at the weakness in his voice. “You…you’re all I got right now, Charlie…” he pauses, “Charlotte, I mean. Sorry.”
He says her name grudgingly and she lets her eyes close as her heart and head war with each other, wanting so desperately to go to him but she knows that she shouldn’t. She’s not just at his disposal. She’s the only one he can talk to? She’s all he’s got? Right now. Key words, Charlie.
“What about tomorrow?” she asks and she can hear his confusion through the line. “I’m all you have right now, what about tomorrow Justin? And the next day? What about that?”
“I don’t wanna do this over the phone,” he says again firmly and she sighs, bringing a hand up to rub her forehead. “Please. Just…just give me five minutes.”
She pauses, her bottom lip caught between her teeth and she bites down brutally, torn between what she knows is right and what she really wants. This won’t end well. And that’s all it will be. An ending.
“Charlotte…” he says and she sighs. “Please.”
She waits a beat. “Okay,” she breathes, her voice defeated.
“Okay, I’ll…I’ll see you in a couple minutes,” he says and he sounds relieved.
“Okay.”
“Okay.”
Charlotte’s hand stutters as she reaches to drop the receiver back onto the cradle and falls back against her pillows briefly. Her heart is pounding in her chest, hands trembling just slightly and she forces herself to get a grip. He wants to talk. This is exactly what she wanted but now she’s beginning to think that may not be such a good idea. What if he tells her its over? There’s nothing for there to be over, her brain spits brutally and her heart aches, challenging that there is. They’re friends, were friends once. She clings to the thought like a lifeline.
She pulls herself from the bed and glances in the mirror on the back of the bathroom door. Her sleep shorts are twisted on her hips and as she straightens them she realizes they show entirely too much of her thighs for comfort now that Fiona had pegged them as “a problem area.” She tugs on neckline of her tanktop, pulling it to cover what small amount of cleavage she has and she should probably put on a bra. She reaches for her cardigan instead, threading her arms through and wrapping it around herself with a sigh. Her face is blotchy and red from her shower and her hair lays flat against her head running slickly down her back from not even brushing it yet. Part of her doesn’t want him to see her like this, tells her she should at least put something on that doesn’t accentuate the wide berth of her hips and the thickness of her thighs but another part says that it doesn’t matter. Whatever he has to say he’s going to say no matter what she looks like. She compromises slightly by running a brush through her wet hair before running out the door.
The elevator attendant gives her a dubious look when she asks him to take her to the penthouse, eyeing the length of her legs and her bare feet, the polish left over from Justin’s birthday now chipped and dismal looking. She’s the first to admit she doesn’t seem the type that would be heading up to the penthouse at nine o’clock at night but his suspicion annoys her. After six months of working for Amelia being looked down upon over everything from her shoes to her bank balance was really starting to get on her nerves.
The elevator arrives with a jolt and she gives the man a tight smile, feeling him watching her as she walks slowly out of the elevator, appraising the small hallway before stepping up to the only door, finding it not even marked with a number or letter. She bites her lip as she brings her hand up to knock softly, butterflies setting loose in her stomach.
When Justin hears the knock he propels himself from the couch, nearly tripping over his own feet in his haste to get to the door. He pauses, reaching up to adjust his hair but finds none and smoothes his hand down his chest instead, wiping away any wrinkles that might be in his shirt before he swings the door open. Charlotte is standing there awkwardly, her arms wrapped around her stomach, holding her black cardigan closed. Her skin is dewy, her hair damp and disheveled and it takes everything in him not to let his eyes linger on the long expanse of her legs.
“Hi,” she says breathlessly when he doesn’t speak and he smiles at the sound of her voice.
“Hi,” he returns and she gives him an uncertain smile. “Come in,” he urges, standing aside and she takes a cautious step into the room, her toes sinking into to the plush carpet as she pads into the entry way.
Her jaw is slack as she takes in the grandeur of the room. Mismatched overstuffed couches and chairs mingle with mahogany and glass tables the hodgepodge of design distinctive but cohesive in the way only modern design can pull off. Large floor to ceiling windows boast breathtaking views of the Los Angeles skyline, the large garden terrace wrapping around the building, colorful flowers and leafy trees scattered around the hot tub and Moroccan bed with yellow and orange sashes shielding it from the dying sunlight. She’s dazed by the city lights, the windows drawing her closer as she steps down into the sunken living room.
“We’re you sleeping?” he asks and she’s broken from her thoughts, jolting slightly and it takes her a minute to answer.
“No…no I just…” she’s struck speechless by the view again, watching the lights twinkle prettily on the hills in the distance.
“The view’s nice huh?” he says, jumping on a topic as it presents itself, moving to step up next to her and she nods slowly.
“It’s beautiful,” she replies absently and Justin lets his eyes roam her face slowly, her green eyes dancing like he hasn’t seen in days and he longs to just touch her, just for a moment.
“Yeah,” he breathes and she looks over it him, her eyes meeting his and he immediately turns away, moving towards one of the couches. “Um…you wanna sit?”
“O-okay,” she says and steps in front of a chair and they face each other, both watching the other cautiously before slowly lowering to sit.
Charlotte tugs at her shorts, wishing that she’d changed, as they ride higher up her thighs and Justin’s mouth goes slightly dry at the sight of so much of her skin. He didn’t get a chance to really look at her when they’d… His mind snaps back and he forces himself to focus, chewing his bottom lip slowly as he watches her fidget in her chair.
The silence is starting to stretch between them again, the clock ticking away the seconds and he fights the urge to hum to himself just to fill it. Her eyes are resolutely on her knees, poking at a scar he’d never even noticed and he wonders how she got that. His brain snaps back again and he has to fix this. He clears his throat and opens his mouth even though he has no idea what he’s going to say.
“Charlotte, I understand if you’re angry with me,” he says softly and her head snaps up at the formalness of his tone, her brows drawing together slightly. “But I don’t want the whole trip to be like this. We have too much to accomplish this week to be not speaking to each other.”
Charlotte fights the swell of anger inside her, working very hard to keep her face blank and stoic. Of all the things that he could have said to her, of all the things that they needed to discuss, that was what he wanted to say? He’s looking at her steadily, leaning forward so that his elbows rest on his knees, his palms pressed together and he looks as if he’s reprimanding her for some mistake she’d made on the job. His demeanor is strictly professional and she has the urge to remind him that they have fucked each other and this farce that he’s just her boss is slightly absurd.
“We just…” he sighs, sitting so that his back is straight, his hands gesturing casually. “We need to put aside our differences for business sake… so we can have a productive trip…”
What the hell is he saying? This is what happens when he doesn’t have a clear plan, he comes up with something on the fly and while there is some truth to it – they really couldn’t get much work done if they weren’t speaking – he’d missed his point entirely. He consoles himself in thinking that this was just to get them talking again, just a way to open the door of communication. As he takes in the slight wrinkle between her eyebrows he’s beginning to think that maybe that wasn’t the best way to have done it.
“Right,” she says, with a nod, her face smoothing. “Of course, I’m sorry.”
“Don’t…don’t be sorry,” he says, scrambling for words even though his voice is calm. “Just…we just have to talk to each other Charlie,” he breathes and the slight flinch of her cheek as he says her name causes his heart to crack a little. “Charlotte…I mean,” he adds with a sigh. “Sorry.”
She studies him for a moment, taking in the smoothness of his face and the casual tilt of his head. But as she looks closer she can see the straightness of his back has little to do with professionalism, his shoulders tense and his hands don’t just rest on his knees, they’re pressing against them, palms rubbing against the denim of his jeans anxiously. His eyes flit to the ground as his tongue snakes out to wet his lips and she realizes that he’s not feeling professional at all. He’s nervous. And suddenly it’s as if the past few weeks never happened and she can read him again, his fear and guilt showing through his eyes, uncertainty and doubt. This is his way of trying to bridge the gap. He’s trying to make it right. He’s trying. For her.
“Okay,” she says simply and offers him her first smile in a week and he breathes out slowly, a weight lifting itself from his chest and he’s surprised at how light he feels.
Her brain calls her an idiot. How can she be pacified simply by the fact that he’s trying? How can she have so little respect for herself that she’ll just let him get by with such a lame apology? It wasn’t even an apology at all, more like a reprimand
But he breathes out slowly then, a smile pulling across his face and she’s too dazed by its brilliance to think much else, “Okay,” he says softly.
They’re quiet again but this time it’s calm, each just looking at the other and the search for something to say isn’t desperate, just awkward and they each start to chuckle a little at their own ridiculousness. She was hoping that he’d have more to say, but the longer she waits she wonders if he’s lost his courage. Her brain cries indignantly that there is more to be said, but she doesn’t want to push. After all, he has more to lose in this than she does, his entire life as opposed to just her job and maybe he needs more time. Her head cautions that she’s doing it again, making excuses for him and she bites her lip, her head and heart warring with each other again. Her heart argues feebly that they’re friends and you’re supposed to believe the best of your friends but she knows that she’s too close to him, needs to pull back just a little, to spare herself in the end.
“Well if that’s all, I’m just gonna…” Charlotte trails, jutting her thumb towards the door as she pulls herself to her feet and Justin’s brows draw in alarm.
“You don’t wanna hang out?” he asks and she blinks at him slowly, uncertainty settling in her.
“Justin it’s late,” she says, her voice cautious and he gives her a perplexed look.
“It’s like nine-thirty,” he chuckles and she laughs too, biting her lip at how forced it sounds but she’s used to laughing when he laughs; it’s almost a habit.
“Yeah but…I mean…shouldn’t we…we can’t…” she stutters trying to formulate what she wants to say.
They’re in uncharted territory now. What a few weeks ago would have been hanging out and chatting is now fettered with subtext and intentions unknown. Sex changes everything, she thinks bitterly and as much as she wants him to breach the subject she isn’t sure he was going to. She watches her big toe dig a hole in the plush carpet, trying to choose her words carefully.
“Last time we were together this late…” she starts but finds she can’t finish, her throat constricting and she can feel the air change around her, thickening with tension so potent it threatens to suffocate her.
She hears him chuckle, more a sound of surprise than of humor as if his brain got confused and all he could do was laugh. He clears his throat. “Touché,” he utters bitterly and she feels dread settle in the pit of her stomach. “Sit down Charlie…Charlotte…sorry.”
She takes her seat again, not meeting his eyes until she’s settled and finds him sitting forward again, his palms pressed together, the tips of his fingers white from the pressure with which he’s pushing them together. She tries to swallow, her throat dry and she waits for him to speak.
“What…what happened…” he starts and he’s not looking at her but at the table next to her, his voice careful as if he’s choosing every word with the utmost caution. “What happened between us…it….it shouldn’t have happened…”
It’s like a bullet to the chest, the pain quick and fierce and she has to clench her jaw to fight the lump in her throat.
“But it did happen,” he adds quickly and then he meets her eyes finally, sorrow and regret filling his sapphire orbs and she marvels at how every emotion he has can show right through his eyes. “Yeah it was…” he pauses looking down again trying to find the words and then settles on “wrong.” He winces as if unsatisfied by his choice. “But I don’t…I don’t want you to think that I…” He looks up at her again. “I don’t want you to think I resent you. Or that I regret it…” he winces again as if he thinks he shouldn’t have said it. “I just…I can’t…there’s nothing I can-”
“Don’t,” she says suddenly and he cuts off immediately, finding her shaking her head slowly. “You don’t owe me anything.”
“But-”
“All I ever want from you is honesty, Justin,” she says softly and his lips part slightly at her confession, marveling at her.
It was so simple yet infinitely complicated. It was a lot more than some piece of jewelry from Harry Winston but he found that he was more willing to give it. Maybe because it didn’t feel like a cop out, not an atonement for his actions but a promise that he would try and be better. He offers her a small smile before sighing and dropping his head, reaching his hands up to run through his hair but once again finds it gone, rubbing his head roughly instead. He wants so much to talk to her, his chest feeling as if it will burst from keeping all these emotions inside him.
“I just want you to talk to me,” she adds quietly and he doesn’t miss the tremble in her voice. “I don’t…I don’t wanna lose you.” His eyes snap to her, finding her wringing her hands, her fingers tangled together tightly. “I mean…you’re my best friend,” she says finally looking up at him and the feeble smile she gives him sends a wave of tenderness through him.
“I’m sorry,” he says and it’s like a huge weight has lifted from his chest. “I’m sorry that I was such a douche-”
“I’m sorry too,” she cuts him off as if she’s been waiting to say it as well and they both offer a weak smile which grows when they realize they’re okay.
“This was just something that happened,” he says with a shrug, the lightness in his chest making him slightly giddy and she nods in agreement his excitement contagious. “It was an accident and…it doesn’t define us.”
“Not at all,” Charlotte says seriously but finds she can’t keep a straight face, a giggle pulling from her throat and he chuckles as well.
He sighs, falling back against the couch as he rubs his hands over his face and he’s suddenly exhausted, his muscles sore from being so tense for so long. He lets his arms fall to his sides and looks over at her, finding her watching him slightly amused, her hands folded in her lap. He leans forward again and before he can even stop them the words just pour out of his mouth.
“I just… I’ve never cheated on anyone before…” he breathes quietly, the confession sucking the air right out of his lungs and the guilt constricts his throat, making it hard to swallow.
He trails then as if suddenly remembering who he’s speaking to. He finds that he doesn’t really want to explain this to her. He’s never been anything but honest with her and he doesn’t want that to change. But he also knows that this subject is delicate and her feelings could be trampled. He’ll do anything to avoid hurting her.
“You’ve never cheated before?” she asks and he looks up at her blinking slowly, caught off guard by her question.
“No…I haven’t,” he says slowly, finding her perplexity a little strange and he’s offended when she narrows her eyes as if debating if he’s lying. “What I haven’t!” he says, his voice slightly defensive.
“I’m not saying…I’m sorry I just…” Charlotte struggles with what to say caught off guard by his sudden irritation and she stutters. “I just thought you and Patti…”
Justin’s eyebrows race to his hairline as he coughs out a sound of surprise. “What?” he asks, disbelief ringing in his voice.
“Well I didn’t know,” Charlotte says, a blush creeping up her neck as he starts to laugh loudly.
“Are you kidding me?” he asks and she chuckles sheepishly herself. “You honestly thought I was banging the wedding planner? Charlie, I’m offended!” he teases and then sighs. “Charlotte, I mean.” He waves his hand disinterestedly. “Sorry.”
“Well what do you expect?” Charlotte asks, slightly defensive now herself as he continues to laugh and she can’t help her own smile. “That one time in your office-”
His laughter stops abruptly and his brows crease as he cuts her off. “You said you believed me!”
“Well yeah but I mean it was pretty incriminating.”
“She was straightening my tie!” Justin insists and Charlotte gives him a dubious look that causes him to scowl.
“What am I supposed to think with Amelia purposefully parading women in front of you¬-” her voice cuts off abruptly, her eyes going wide and there goes her mouth again.
For a moment Justin thinks she’s stopped because she’s mentioned Amelia and while the sudden memory of his fiancé was a little jarring he doesn’t think it constitutes the full blush that is coloring Charlotte’s cheeks. But as he starts to process her words he begins to understand and anger begins to well inside him.
“What do you mean parading women in front of me?” he asks evenly and Charlotte looks away, refusing to meet his eyes. He can feel his shoulders tighten. “Charlotte…”
“Don’t do this to me Justin,” she begs and when her eyes meet his she’s pleading with him. “Its not fair.”
“Oh and it’s fair for her to have some kind of secret plan that she’s sharing with all her fucking assistants and making me look like a goddamn idiot?” Justin asks, his voice angry and as much as he loves Amelia sometimes he really fucking hates her.
“She’s not sharing it with everyone!” Charlotte insists, her voice careful, trying to soothe. “I think she just told me. I’m…” she chuckles slightly. “I’m supposed to keep an eye on you.”
Justin looks up at her, eyes ablaze with anger. Amelia had one of her assistants keeping an eye on him? Like he needed some kind of goddamn babysitter to make sure he wasn’t fucking every woman in sight. He’s offended and hurt but finds that he’s not entirely surprised. In fact he’s a little shocked over the fact that just one of her assistants and not some private detective is watching him. But worse still is the idea that Amelia is dangling women in front of him, testing him in an attempt to see if he’d stray. The fact that she thinks he’d actually fall for it, that he’d need to be watched by Charlotte just to make sure he was staying true to her stung worst of all.
“Come on, Justin!” she says and then looks as if she has something she wants to say but is thinking better of it. She chuckles, shaking her head as she decides to say it anyway. “You have to appreciate the irony.” She blushes slightly.
He laughs awkwardly, his own blush creeping up his neck and he sighs, rubbing his hands over his face again before resting his chin on his hand and looking at her tiredly.
“Fuck I need…” he trails, not really knowing what he needs, stretching his arms over his head and they both wince as his back pops loudly and he groans as his muscles stretch unwillingly.
A yawn pulls from his throat as he falls back limply against the couch and his eyes slink from her to the view behind her, the sky now a dark purple, the daylight almost completely gone. The leafy plants that are scattered around the veranda are swaying in the breeze and he nearly moans when his eyes fall on the hot tub. That’s exactly what he needs after the week he’s had.
“Dude we’re getting in that hot tub,” he says, pushing himself off the couch and situating his hands on his hips as he looks down at her. “Come on get up and go put your suit on,” he says gesturing for her to move.
Charlotte’s eyes widen and she coughs out a laugh at his bossiness, uncertainty tightening in her chest. She cranes her neck, looking over her shoulder at the tub on the deck and she’s the first to admit that they both need a little stress relief. But she bites her lip thinking that getting in that hot tub with him would only lead to other kinds of stress relief and they’d agreed it wouldn’t happen again. It can’t happen again. She purses her lips.
“How about you go get your swimsuit on and I’ll get the bubbles going. Do you want room service? Some wine or something?” she asks and his brows draw, perplexity showing through his eyes.
She doesn’t want to hang out with him? He thought they were better! What could he…but then she gives him an exasperated sigh and a pointed look and he suddenly understands. They can’t do that. His neck reddens and he reaches up to scratch his ear nervously. He’s going to have to get used to this, the things that they can and can’t do together and he can’t help the slight pang of sadness over this realization.
“Yeah,” he says with a nervous chuckle. “Yeah some wine would be good.”
He waits a beat, watching her carefully before turning and disappearing around the corner and she heaves a great sigh, letting her head fall back. She is almost sure this is going to be harder than they think but she doesn’t know the alternative. They’re too much a part of each other to just give up. The past week has been proof enough of that. After she calls downstairs and orders a bottle of wine, she shuffles out to the deck, the California air lifting her hair from her neck as she surveys the skyline, still marveling at the view. She’d wondered why Amelia had wanted her to book him the penthouse, three bedrooms and a dining room that could seat twelve seeming a little outrageous just for one man but now she understands. She sighs, pulling her eyes away and turning them to the hot tub which is large enough to fit at least ten people. Maybe she could change and just sit across from him…no, no that’s just asking for trouble. She sighs, moving to grab for the cover but finds that there is no handle. In fact, this doesn’t looking like any hot tub she has ever seen and she stares at it for a few moments before leaning down and poking around the sides, trying to see if there is some kind of button she needs to push.
Justin sighs as he pads his way back through the living room but he stops dead in his tracks in the doorway, all the blood leaving his brain suddenly at the sight of Charlotte bent over in front of the hot tub. Her shorts have ridden up her thighs, her ass tight inside the fabric and he shakes his head slowly, trying to clear it, forcing himself to calm down. He’s not thirteen for godsake. But thankfully she straightens, making it a little easier for him to concentrate and as his brain clears he notices that she looks utterly confused, her hand reaching up to run through her damp hair in thought, the locks sticking wetly to her fingers.
“Need some help?” he asks and her eyes snap to him, her mouth going dry.
Charlotte stutters slightly as she takes in his naked torso, a white towel thrown casually over his shoulder. His swim trunks hang low on his slim hips, his chest smooth and white and she swallows hard as she surveys the broad expanse of his shoulders and the bulge of his biceps, the large celtic cross tattooed along one arm pulled taught and standing out starkly against his creamy skin. She’s shocked slightly by it, along with the small smattering of tattoos around his calves finding them unexpected but not unlike him. She is now achingly aware that she didn’t exactly get to look at him when they’d… her eyes snap to the ground.
“I…uh… this thing,” she says gesturing towards the hot tub and tucking her hair behind her ear. “It’s um…too fancy for me.” She chuckles dumbly.
“Oh the switch is in here,” he says, and she watches his chest pull taut as he leans back inside to reach around the curtain and a low grinding sound fills the air as the cover pulls back from the hot tub, revealing clear blue water inside. After a moment it begins to bubble.
“Oh,” Charlotte says dumbly, still slightly dazed as he walks towards her and she licks her lips as he moves to stand directly in front of her, his body a little too close for comfort. “Room service is on its way,” she says quickly, trying to avoid looking at him, trying to ignore the heat of his skin, his chest so close and begging to be touched.
“Okay,” he says, his voice deep and quiet and he knows he should pull back but at this distance he can smell the mint of her shampoo, the cleanness of her skin. Something about a woman right after she gets out of the shower…
Author's Chapter Notes:
Okay I am SO SORRY this took me so long to get up. Life went kinda crazy and in my defense I rewrote this about three times. So writers block combined with the end of my quarter are to blame. Also I probably won't get to responding to reviews for awhile because my friend and I are leaving for Switzerland tomorrow and will be traveling for about a week. I dunno if we'll have internet or not so just be patient I WILL get back to you all I promise! Thank you all for your patience and enjoy!!!
Story Tags: fiancej desksex affair love hottubsex
