Justin lowers his head, wincing as he glances around the bar, its few occupants looking up in curiosity at his best friend’s exclamation. He looks down into the open mouth of his beer bottle, rolling it back and forth between his palms, avoiding Trace’s astonished gaze, his stomach leaden with misery.

It had taken him two days to call his best friend, that time spent holed up in a hotel room, watching a blank television screen and wondering how the hell he’d managed to fuck up so royally. Mistakes weren’t his forte. He’d made careful and calculated decisions in his career and his personal life ever since he was a teenager but laying in the dark on rented sheets taking a long hard look at the past few weeks, months, years he still couldn’t find where the thread had begun to unravel. Even with the clarity of hindsight he still wasn’t entirely sure where he’d gone so completely wrong. He felt lost but now he wasn’t just trapped in the maze of his doomed relationship; he was set adrift and on his own. That fact had him almost missing the comfort of his trapped relationship, a thought that frightened him so much that he pulled Trace off a flight that was already halfway down the tarmac. 

“Holy. Shit.”

“Stop saying that,” Justin says, reaching up to scratch his ear self-consciously, curling his shoulders in.

“You really said the thing… about her making you a miserable coward?” Trace asks in utter disbelief and Justin brings his hands to his face and rubs hard.

“Yes,” he replies lifelessly and Trace’s guffaw of laughter makes Justin wince.

“Holy fuckin’ shit,” Trace replies giving an astonished shake of his head as he takes a sip of his beer and he can’t contain his elation.

“Please stop,” Justin says, a whine lacing his words as he throws a pained glance in Trace’s direction.

“I’m so happy for you man,” Trace says clapping him on the shoulder as he sets his bottle down on the table. “Drinks for everybody!” he exclaims and Justin rolls his eyes before shooting his friend a disdainful look.

“Yeah I’m fine by the way. Thanks for asking,” Justin says the hard edge of sarcasm in his voice wiping the smile right off of his best friend’s face.

“I just figured-”

“What that I’d be jumping for fucking joy?” Justin accuses. “My wife cheated on me and my marriage is fucking over four days after it started. Drinks for fucking everybody.”

He scowls deeply, snatching his beer bottle and draining it before letting it slam back down, Trace wincing in response. He watches Justin for a long moment, taking in the misery drawn so plainly across his best friend’s face and feels sheepish for being so callous. He nudges his own near empty bottle further up the table.

“Hey…” he says lowly, shifting awkwardly in his chair. “I’m sorry… I didn’t mean-”

“You know I get that you didn’t understand why I even bothered,” Justin says bitterly. “Nobody fucking did. And maybe that’s where my mistake was. I should have listened. But goddammit Trace I loved her.” He closes his eyes, resting his elbows on the table and leaning his forehead on his clenched fists. “This fucking sucks.”

Trace presses his lips together and lets a hand fall heavily on the roundest part of Justin’s back, patting him hard. “It’s for the best.”

“Don’t fucking patronize me asshole,” Justin snarls and Trace’s hand falls away, flopping back in his chair in frustration.

“Well what do you want me to say Justin?” Trace asks, watching Justin let his breath out slow as if Trace were testing his patience. “Congratulations on making a succession of shitty life choices?” Justin glares at him from the corner of his eye. “You’ve been kind enough to never say that to me so I figured I’d return the favor.”

“Thanks,” Justin replies with sarcasm, his hands falling against the table with a thud.

“You’re welcome,” Trace says with mock sincerity and Justin sighs. “So… how’s this gonna go down?”

Justin sucks in a breath and lets it out slow, his cheeks puffing out as he shakes his head. “I dunno. She said she’d have her lawyer contact mine.”

“Annulment?”

Justin cringes. “Probably.”

“For the best.”

“Stop fucking saying that.”

“You said it yourself, man. You loved her.” Trace says and Justin looks at him perplexed. “Loved. Past tense.”

“And that’s supposed to make this any fucking easier?” Justin asks angrily and cringes as the waitress comes by, setting another beer in front of each of them and quietly taking away their empty bottles.

“Yeah,” Trace says quietly as the waitress leaves. “Justin you knew it was over,” he says soberly and Justin shakes his head, leaning back in his chair, his jaw set stubbornly. “If it wasn’t there would have been no way you would have given Charlotte a second look.”

Justin sucks in his breath at the sound of her name, closing his eyes on the vision of her pleading face, begging him not to go through with the wedding. His chest feels hot, a deep ache throbbing quick in his sternum before subsiding.

“Don’t-”

“Does she know?” Trace asks and Justin looks at him for a beat before reaching for his bottle and giving his head a quick shake before taking a drink. “When are you going to tell her?” Justin refuses to look at him and Trace scowls. “Look just because I said I wasn’t gonna hassle you on your recent shitty life choices doesn’t mean I’m gonna sit by and watch you make more.”

“What do you want me to do Trace?” Justin exclaims, his eyes holding Trace’s just long enough for his friend to see the misery there. Justin looks away shaking his head. “I screwed it up,” he grumbles, bringing his bottle to his lips and taking a deep drink.

“So you’re just gonna give up?” Trace asks dubiously. “Let her walk away?”

“I’m not giving up,” Justin replies peevishly, shifting uncomfortably in his chair. “I’m just not… I’m not gonna… it’s too soon …or too late…fuck I don’t know.”

“I don’t see why you’re stalling,” Trace pushes and Justin glares at him.

“Stalling? It’s been two days!” Justin exclaims, nervous heat traveling through his limbs and making his palms clammy.

“You can’t tell me that after everything you and Charlotte have been through together she wasn’t the first person on your mind when you left that office two days ago.” Trace gives him a hard look and Justin rolls his eyes looking away. “Look, it was obvious to me since the moment I fucking met the girl that she was perfect for you. It was obvious to everyone. But you. And even after you were with her you still didn’t see it. I know you loved her-”

“Of course I love her!” he exclaims, his chest heaving and he brings a hand to his forehead, his temples throbbing from the stress. “But I’m not gonna just go running back to her because my marriage fell apart. She doesn’t deserve that. She doesn’t-”

“Love,” Trace interrupts and Justin looks up at him quizzically finding his friend smirking knowingly at him. “Present tense.”

Justin growls, fighting the urge to slam his head down on the table, opting to fold his arms and rest his forehead on them instead. He feels Trace pat his back again, his little chuckle making Justin grit his teeth. His eyes close, letting his memory run, sprinting back through the past several months, past the sex that made everything complicated to before when she’d just been the girl who made him laugh. The girl who encouraged him and believed in him, who tried to make it right when he was doing everything all wrong. He remembers her smile, that little dimple in her cheek that he’d never gotten the chance to kiss even though it was something he’d always wanted to do. He remembers the giggle she would always try to suppress, how it would surface and he would turn to look at her in time to find her hand coming to cover her mouth and a guilty expression in her eyes. He chuckles to himself at the memory. God he’d loved her even then.

But now she was gone.

“You know… my granddad asked me one time…” Trace says after a moment and Justin looks up at him miserably, watching his best friend swallow, his face contemplative as he eyes the beer bottle in his hand. “He said,” he clears his throat lowering his voice ‘Trace, you get a girl in trouble?’” A ghost of a smile passes over his face at the memory, his eyes finally meeting Justin’s. “And I was like ‘Nah Pops, she’s not pregnant.’” Trace smiles, pushing out a disbelieving cough of a laugh. “And you know what he said to me J? He said ‘I ain’t talkin’ ‘bout babies boy. I’m askin’ you if you made her fall in love with you. A baby she could handle. You breakin her heart when she gave you her all...’ Trace pauses shaking his head and in that instance Justin sees Ben Ayala reincarnated in his grandson. “’a girl don’t just come back from that.’” Trace sets his bottle on the table, leaning closer, his eyes imploring. “Charlotte’s not just gonna come back from this dude. She’s done crawling back. It’s your turn to get on your fuckin knees.”

“And what?” Justin asks, frustrated. “What? She’s gonna fall into my arms and say she forgives me? Cue the music, ride off into the sunset? This isn’t a fucking movie Trace. This is my life.”

Trace snorts, “You ask me your life’s been pretty cinematic thus far.”

Justin scowls deeply and Trace laughs before sighing. He looks at his best friend for a long moment before leaning closer, his tone soft as he begins to speak.

“You can’t lose her because you’re scared, Justin.”

Justin’s eyes widen, bristling violently as he tries to scoot away but Trace puts a hand on his arm. “You’ve been scared for too long. Look at the mess it’s got you in.”

“Shut up Trace. You don’t know-”

“I know Amelia hurt you,” he cuts him off and Justin looks down, gritting his teeth at the sound of her name. “she had you down for the count for a long time but it’s time to get up off the mat, J. Charlotte is…” he trails searching for the words. He shrugs laughing. “She’s your lobster.”

Justin bursts out laughing, a feeling that’s foreign to him but he finds that he’s energized by it. “Lobster huh?”

Trace nods. “She’s your movie. You can’t let that get away. You just fucking can’t.”

Justin sighs, looking down at the table before cutting his eyes to Trace who is staring at him steadily, giving him a little nod of encouragement. He looks down again, biting his lip hard and wondering if his heart can take two shatterings in one week.

“Alright…” he says and Trace’s face lights up, fist pumping in victory and Justin laughs despite himself. “What do we do?”

“Oh don’t you worry,” Trace says, his smile about to split his face as he fishes his phone out of his pocket. “I got this.”

***

Charlotte’s apartment has never been cleaner. All of her laundry is done, her clothes folded and put away and her kitchen is spotless, all dishes washed and in the cupboard. The kitchen table even looks like it could be eaten on now instead of being covered in papers and bills. Her homework is finished, she’s showered and dressed and she’s sitting on her couch, mind frantically searching for something else to do.

If she keeps moving she finds she’s happier. Concentrating on menial tasks keeps her mind from going back to Amelia’s office to relive her last humiliation or to the groom’s chambers at St. Thomas… her eyes snap shut, standing abruptly looking for something to tidy up.

If she just keeps moving the hurt isn’t so debilitating. But she wears out eventually and when she sleeps she dreams. Of cold stone walls and candle light, Justin in his tuxedo and Amelia floating towards him in a dress shaped like a bell. The preacher asks if anyone objects and she stands, she opens her mouth and even though she’s screaming at the top of her lungs no one seems to hear her. She wakes up in a cold sweat, her heart throbbing against her ribcage, each beat feeling as if it’s tearing her open from the inside.

Her hands shuffle over the magazines she’d laid in a fan across her coffee table, stacking them and then fanning them again, wishing to god she’d had a dog to walk or even a goldfish to watch swim around it’s bowl. She wishes she had more clothes to wash or a cake to bake. She wishes that job interview that Fee got her at some trendy restaurant in Manhattan was today instead of tomorrow. But she has no pet, no laundry, no cake mix and no job to take her mind off the fact that she’d managed to lose the man she loved and the job she loathed but was her life nonetheless all in one week.

She should feel free, weightless and unhindered since the two main causes of stress in her life are now gone but she feels trapped by it instead, haunted by their loss and the crushing feeling of “what-the-hell-do-I-do-now”?

She’s startled by a knock at the door, her brow furrowing as she stands to answer it. She blinks slowly, her brain trying to process the redhead beaming at her on her doorstep.

“Hi!” Ginger exclaims, her shoulders bunching up to her ears as if seeing Charlotte again brings her some kind of overwhelming joy while Charlotte’s stomach curls in a sickening mix of dread and anticipation.

Ginger’s presence could only mean one thing; that Trace wasn’t far away and where Trace was Justin was sure to be nearby as well.

***

“You’re sure about this?” Justin asks, one eyebrow raising as he regards his best friend curiously, his stomach turning over and over itself.

“Would you stop worrying,” Trace sighs, taking a swig from his beer bottle. “Ginger may be a little slow on the uptake but if there’s one thing she’s good at it’s matchmaking.”

Justin groans, letting his head hang back. “I don’t need a Yenta-”

“You need a fuckin miracle,” Trace deadpans and Justin glares at him but softens when Trace gives him a winning smile. “What are you gonna say to her when she gets here?”

Justin shifts. “Well… I guess that… that I’m sorry.”

Trace blinks at him slowly. “You’re sorry… That’s it?”

“Well I don’t fucking know,” Justin growls, crossing his arms over his chest as a hot flash rolls over him, feeling his cheeks burn. “I am sorry. I’m sorry I put her through that… and that I was an idiot…and that I don’t wanna be an idiot anymore.”

Trace looks at him dubiously. “Yeah man I dunno.”

“I know,” Justin says, dropping his head onto his arms on the table. “I’m gonna lose her Trace,” he says softly, his voice muffled. “There’s nothing I can say to-”

“Yes there is,” Trace cuts him off, his voice firm. “You tell her you fucked up, you apologize, you tell her you love her.”

“It’s not that easy.”

“It is that easy.”

“You didn’t see her face,” Justin says finally lifting his head. “You didn’t see her face when she told me…” his breathing catches as that sharp pain lodges itself under his ribs and it takes him a minute to find his voice again. “when she told me she loved me… and I…”

“Left to get married.”

Justin glares. “Yes. Thank you.”

“You wanna practice?”

“What?” Justin asks with a disbelieving laugh.

“You wanna practice.” Trace says again, turning more in his chair so that he’s facing Justin, squaring his shoulders. “you know, pretend I’m her.”

“Um… no,” Justin says with a chuckle, turning back to his beer, taking a sip and shaking his head. “Ginger knows where we are right?”

“Come on dude, quit worrying! You heard what I told her on the phone. ‘Bring Charlotte to The Corner Bar.’ How hard could that possibly be?”

***

“And you’re sure Trace said to come here?” Charlotte asks, slipping onto a tall stool and resting her hands on the greasy tabletop, looking around apprehensively.

“This is the bar around the corner isn’t it?” Ginger asks a little testily, pulling herself up onto her own stool and looking around. “Kind of a shady place huh?”

“Um. Yeah.”

“Hmmm… Well I guess I’ll go get us some drinks while we wait,” Ginger replies undeterred by Charlotte’s unease, bouncing over to the bar.

Charlotte glances around the room, doing her best to avoid making eye contact with any of the clientele. Even though she’d lived in this neighborhood for nearly three years now she’d never been inside The Show Bar before now, always picking up her pace when walking past. There were bars on the windows and the smell of stale beer and cigarette smoke which was detectable from the street is almost overpowering on the inside. Men in leather jackets with matted hair and scraggly beards sit at the bar watching the Speed channel or hovering around the pool tables with cues in hand waiting their turn. Charlotte can’t help but notice that they are two of the only four women in the room, a fact that she would find comforting if it wasn’t for their hard, grizzled appearance and menacing glares.

“Well, I tried to get us some Cosmos but he didn’t have any cranberry juice,” Ginger huffs setting two beer mugs the table. “He said these were good though. Pink Panty somethings.” Ginger shrugs, wiggling her way onto her barstool and looks around.

“Why are you here Ginger?” Charlotte asks, wincing a little at her rudeness but wanting to get to the point nonetheless. She figures the less time she spends here the better.

“Oh I came for the wedding,” Ginger says, smiling as she takes a sip of her drink, wincing brutally as she sets her mug back down.

Charlotte chuckles darkly. “Yes… I know that. I mean why are you here?”

“Same reason you are,” Ginger says blinking and bringing her mug to her lips again. “Trace is meeting us.”

“Just Trace?” Charlotte asks suspiciously and Ginger nods, her blue eyes large and innocent but Charlotte isn’t fooled. “I’m leaving.”

She starts to stand but Ginger grabs for her wrist. “Look, just hear him out okay?”

“Ginger you have no fucking clue what you’re talking about,” Charlotte snaps and Ginger drops her arm, her face crumpling into a wounded frown that has Charlotte back peddling. “I’m sorry, this is not your fault. You just… you don’t know…” she sighs, letting her head hang back. “you don’t know what he’s put me through ok?”

“Honey I know exactly what he’s put you through,” Ginger says, looking at her as if she were stupid for thinking otherwise. “The sneaking around, wanting him to change, wanting him to just realize,” Ginger says looking down into her drink and shaking her coppery head sadly. “Been there. Done that.” They’re silent for a second, Ginger looking sadly into her drink before she snaps out of it, looking up and asking with only a slight hint of humor, “So tell me. What hurts more? Thinking you should hate him or knowing you don't?”

The question causes Charlotte’s face to burn hot, her brows drawing as she slowly lowers herself back onto her barstool. “I think the worst part is that I knew this would happen,” she confesses, looking morosely down at the mug in her hands, closing her palms around it and feeling it chill her fingers. “I mean how else could it have turned out?” she questions, scoffing a laugh as she shakes her head. “No I did this to myself.”

“Doesn’t make it any easier on you though,” Ginger says sympathetically and Charlotte smiles sadly.

“No…” she chuckles, a strange sense of relief washing over her. She hadn’t realized how much she’d been keeping inside these past few months and even before that. She didn’t have the luxury of discussing her relationship with Justin with much of anyone and Ginger didn’t seem like the most obvious of choices but it felt good to Charlotte to finally be able to talk about it.

“You do love him though?” Ginger questions, her large eyes hopeful and Charlotte cringes, lifting her glass to her mouth and taking a large gulp.

Her voice is hoarse, speaking past the fire burning down her throat. “Sometimes. Sometimes he makes me wanna throw him into oncoming traffic,” she says and Ginger giggles, causing Charlotte to smile herself but it fades quickly, “but then I realize I’d probably kill myself trying to save him.” She takes another large swallow. “I’ve been trying to save him for a long time.”

“And Amelia never figured it out?” Ginger asks, blinking over at her over the rim of her own mug.

Charlotte laughs. “No… she never did. I guess she figured he wouldn’t fuck the help,” she replies bitterly, taking another drink and blinking slowly. “you know this isn’t half bad once you get past how disgusting it is.”

“She couldn’t tell he was in love with you?” Ginger presses, her brows drawn in confusion and Charlotte’s eyes snap to hers. “I mean it’s obvious right? Trace said it was pretty obvious.”

Charlotte rolls her eyes. “To everyone but Justin.” She winces at his name, reaching to down the last of her drink, Ginger watching wearily.

“Sit tight,” she says after a moment, patting Charlotte’s arm as she takes her mug from her. “They’ll be here soon and ya’ll can work it out. I’ll get us another drink while we wait.”

“Hey,” Charlotte says, catching her arm and Ginger turns looking at her quizzically. “You said… you’d said this had happened to you… been there done that?” Ginger smiles softly, nodding. “What… what happened?”

She chuckles. “It turned out okay.”

“Really?” Charlotte asks, eyeing her questioningly.

“Well you be the judge,” Ginger says. “How do you think Trace and I are doing?” She winks at Charlotte before shaking her head. “I’ll go get those drinks.”

***

“Where are they?” Justin huffs, glancing down at his watch as he fidgets in his chair.

“They’re on their way,” Trace insists for what feels like the umpteenth time, glancing at his own watch nervously.

“It’s been an hour,” Justin says, rubbing his hands down his thighs, trying to make them stop sweating.

“They’ll be here any second.”

“What if she’s not coming?”

It’s the words that Justin had been avoiding asking since they agreed to send Ginger to get her. He knows that he doesn’t deserve Charlotte, knows that after everything he’s put her through she has every right to not show up, to blow him off like he’d always done her. He can barely stand it but he knows it’s true and if there’s one thing he’s learned from this entire experience it’s that lying to yourself only makes everything that much worse. But despite that fact, he really didn’t want to believe it.

“She’s coming. Ginger’s just softening her up a little,” Trace says and Justin looks over at him horrified. “What! After everything you’ve done she’s gonna need softening!”

Justin glares at him. “Thanks asshole.”

“I’m just sayin…” he sighs. “Look I’ll call her okay?”

Trace reaches into his pocket, fishing out his phone and after pressing a few buttons he holds it to his ear, listening to it ring. A burst of sound on the other line startles him as the other line picks up and Justin looks on with furrowed brows as Trace squints, bringing his hand up to his other ear to try and listen.

“Ginger?....Gin…GINGER!” he snaps sharply and Justin’s heart begins to thump unevenly in his chest. “What are you…Where are you?” he pauses and Justin listens to the muffled slur of Ginger’s voice inaudible to him but Trace’s eyebrows raise. “You’re waiting for us? What do you mean you were supposed to meet us at The Corner Bar an hour ago!”

“Is Charlotte with her?” Justin asks and Trace holds up a hand, listening.

“No… no not the bar around the corner. The Corner Bar. It’s in Manhattan… Where are you?... Are you fucking kidding me?” He scoffs pulling the phone away from his mouth to speak to Justin. “They’re at some dive in the Bronx called The Show Bar.”

“Is Charlotte with her?” Justin asks again in a heated whisper but Trace glares at him menacingly, holding up his hand again.

“Look I don’t care if you’re pissed at me, although why only God fucking knows. This isn’t about us. You need to get Charlotte over here…” Another pause. “Fuck me? What the hell Gin-…” He’s cut off by slew of angry mumbles that Justin can’t decipher and Trace is looking at him utterly baffled, shaking his head. “Why are you so pissed?” The angry mumbles increase in volume and speed, Justin now catching a few choice words that cause his eyebrows to rise. He hadn’t taken Ginger as the sailor’s mouth type. “Look… look just stay where you are okay? We’ll come to you…. Yeah well I am gonna bother and maybe you should lay off whatever the hell you’ve been drinking because-” His words come to an abrupt halt, pulling the phone away from his ear and looking at it bewildered. “She hung up on me!”

“What the hell is going on?” Justin asks, his voice raised and he looks down embarrassed as the people at the tables around them glance their way.

“I have no fucking idea,” Trace says, frustration evident in his voice as he stands from his chair. “We gotta go get them. Come on.”

***

“But, this is the sad part,” Charlotte slurs, blinking blearily at her half empty glass. “We weren't even together and he still broke my heart.”

Ginger lifts her head from her hand, her lips puckering in displeasure, cheeks flushed from the alcohol. “Guys are jerks.”

“They are!” Charlotte exclaims her eyes widening as if this were the most enlightening statement she’d ever heard. “Do you know what he said to me? Do you know…” she turns on her stool, nearly sliding off the side in an effort to face Ginger who has sat up straight again, giving Charlotte her utmost attention. “He told me… actually told me that I never tell him no. And then when I tell him there are some lines I won’t cross he acts like the idea is foreign to him! Like… like I’ll just do whatever he says!”

“What a jerk!” Ginger exclaims and Charlotte nods animatedly.

“And then when I try to get him to talk to me… to tell me what he’s thinking because… you know… how the fuck am I supposed to know… he’s all,” she lowers her voice, pulling her brows in as she imitates him, “‘You wanna talk about feelings now? That’s not who we are, Charlie.’ Oh I’m sorry,” Charlotte exclaims her voice rising as she flings a hand out in frustration, nearly knocking over her glass. “I forgot ‘who we are’ is you fucking me and then leaving.”

Ginger shakes her head slowly, her vision going wobbly with the movement. “My momma always told me never make someone your priority when all you are to them is an option.” She nods authoritatively, draining the last of her mug and looking around “Where’d the bartender go?”

“That really is all I was,” Charlotte says, realization blooming plainly across her face as if this is the first time the thought has occurred to her. She covers her face with her hands shaking her head. “God I can’t believe I let him do this to me.” She lets her arms fall back onto the table with a loud thump, looking up at the ceiling. “I let him call me Charlie. I used to hate that.” She scowls down at her hands on the table. “Now I love it.”

“Fuck him,” Ginger says and Charlotte looks over at her stunned.

“Yeah!” she says, sitting up straighter in her chair. “Fuck him!” she reaches for her glass, fingers fumbling to curl around the handle.

“Trace is an asshole too,” Ginger says her face screwing up in annoyance. “Just expecting me to drop everything and find you and convince you that his idiot best friend loves you.”

“The only person Justin loves is himself!” Charlotte snaps, throwing back the last of her glass. “Where is that bartender?”

“And he doesn’t take anything I say or do seriously. I’m working really hard to make a good name for myself. I wanna own my own salon one day! But does he care anything about that? No, it’s just ‘come to California to this party with me.’ ‘fly to Missouri and sit in a deer blind with me while I kill Bambi.’ ‘come on baby suck my dick I’ve had a rough day.’ BUT DOES HE CARE IF I HAD A ROUGH DAY???”

The patrons around them turn to look at her but all she does is stare down into her empty mug, bottom lip trembling and Charlotte pats her shoulder clumsily. “I really love him,” Ginger sniffles, her face crumpled in sadness. “But I think all I am to him is some hot bimbo he can bend over.”

“ME TOO!” Charlotte exclaims and then her brow creases. “Well not the hot bimbo part… but the bending over part.”

“You know what?” Ginger asks, wiping at her nose holding her head high. “I’m done. I’m not going to be anybody’s hot bimbo. I’m gonna be my own hot bimbo.”

“Good for you!” Charlotte exclaims her fingers grappling for her glass again. “Lets propose a toast! Here's a big FUCK YOU to the texts I waited for.”

Ginger reaches for her own glass, raising it clumsily. “To all the dates I hoped for when he was too busy doing something else.

“The love I wanted,” Charlotte adds, her heart burning in her chest.

“and the tears I cried,” Ginger adds, giving a deep nod.

“and the heart you broke, asshole!” Charlotte finishes, banging her glass roughly against Gingers, both women going to take a drink but frowning when they remember their glasses are both empty.

“GINGER!”

Both girls look up startled, finding Trace making his way over to them, Justin trailing along behind him. Charlotte’s eyes meet his, her stomach dropping to her toes and she looks down angry with herself that even after everything she’s said today he can still give her butterflies.

“What the hell are you two doing here?” Trace asks in a harsh whisper, eyes flicking around apprehensively to the other patrons.

“What do you care?” Ginger snaps back, shrugging off the hand that he’d wrapped around her bicep as she slid off her barstool. “Charlotte you want another drink?” She levels her eyes on Trace, a slow smirk pulling at her lips. “They’re free. Jinx likes me.” She turns abruptly, her fiery hair slapping Trace in the face and he watches her swish away, confused and hurt.

“Hey!” he exclaims when her words sink in, stumbling in his effort to follow her. “Who the hell is Jinx?”

Justin watches the two of them for a moment before turning back to Charlotte who is doing her best to keep her eyes on the table in front of her, refusing to look at him. He slides hesitantly onto the barstool next to her, folding his hands on the table as he searches for something to say.

“So…” he trails, flexing and unflexing his fingers. “I guess… I guess you heard about… about Amelia and me?” Charlotte snorts, rolling her eyes and looking away from him. “I made a mistake Charlie.”

“You know I really fucking hate that name,” Charlotte replies, her head whipping to glare at him and he blinks back at her startled. “Ever since I was little. And then you come along-”

“God what have you been drinking?” he asks, cutting her off as he pulls the mug from her hand and sniffing at it, the alcohol burning his nose.

“What the hell do you care?” Charlotte snarls, snatching the mug back away from him angrily and he watches her for a beat before sighing.

“Great… just…wonderful,” he sighs again, pinching the bridge of his nose before taking a deep breath and turning more fully towards her. “Look I know you’re kinda not really in the right mindset right now but I’d like you to listen to me please.”

His blue eyes are large, his face somber and Charlotte looks up at him blearily, his face swimming in her vision. He reaches for her hands tentatively, his fingers wrapping around hers causing her to look down dumbly, electricity sparking across her skin. She rips her hands back annoyed, trying to spin away from him but her feet get tangled on the footrest of her barstool.

“Charlotte I’m sorry,” he says softly, trying to pull his stool closer to hers. “Look at me!” he insists, frustrated at talking to the back of her head. “Charlotte, please just look at me.”

She grits her teeth at the pleading in his voice her face turning towards him unwillingly and when she looks at him he smiles relieved. He reaches for her hands tentatively again, thumbs smoothing over her knuckles making her heart tremble.

“I don’t want you to touch me,” she mumbles softly, pulling her hands from his again and he lets her go reluctantly.

“Okay, I deserve that,” he says evenly, placing his hands in his lap. “I know that I don’t deserve you. I know that. If you would just… give me another chance-”

“Don’t…” she spits, her anger startling him. “You had your chance. You’ve had plenty of chances.”

“I’m asking for one more,” he says, commanding his voice to be strong even though his stomach is trembling. “I know that I haven’t done right by you. But I’m telling you that all of that is over now. I want to put it behind us. I want us to be together. For real.”

He winces. Maybe he should have taken Trace up on his offer to practice. Charlotte merely shakes her head, coughing out another disbelieving laugh looking around the bar and wondering how the hell she got here. Why had it all come to this? She looks down at the table, her finger tracing a long gash in the vinyl.

“You know when I first met you I never would have imagined that I would have such strong feelings for you.” She blinks up at him, her eyes hazy and she wishes she could focus on him more, take in the devastated look on his face, the glimmer of hope in his eyes. She licks her lips, making an effort to speak clear, to not slur because even in her fuzzy, inebriated mind she knows what she’s saying to him is important. “I never would have thought that I would get butterflies in my stomach when someone mentions your name. Or that I would miss you,” her eyes close, squeezing shut as if she were in pain and he longs to pull her to him, “that I would miss you so much.” She takes a shaking breath, her head turning from side to side. “When I first met you I never would have thought that I would love you.”

“I love you too,” he says in a rush, hands reaching for hers, warmth spreading through him as he finally says words that have been bottled up inside him for too long but she shrugs him away, anger and outrage blooming in her eyes.

“And you think that makes everything better?” she asks her brows raising before shaking her head and looking away again.

“We gotta get outta here man.”

Justin grits his teeth at Trace’s interruption, turning to glare at his best friend over his shoulder. He finds Trace glaring right back, his arm around Ginger’s waist even though she’s struggling to free herself.

“I’m in the middle of something here-”

“You’re not gonna convince her you’re not an asshole,” Ginger says, glaring moodily at Justin who blinks back at her shocked. “You had your chance.”

“Ginger shut up,” Trace snaps then looking at Charlotte. “Charlie-”

A chorus of “Don’t call her that” and one “don’t call me that” sounds all at once, Charlotte looking at Justin bewildered. “She doesn’t like it,” he adds softly, looking down at his hands and then back at her, his eyes doleful. Charlotte merely blinks back at him.

“Fine. Charlotte just take the time to hear him out okay? He loves y-”

“Nothing he can say matters,” Ginger butts in again and Trace glares at her. “He can’t take back what he did.”

“He can try and make up for it,” Trace argues turning fully towards her and Ginger does the same, their toes nearly touching.

“You can’t make up for constantly telling her she’s not good enough-”

“I never said that!” Justin exclaims, his brows drawing as he looks from Ginger to Charlotte. “That’s not true. I never thought that.”

“You didn’t have to think it or say it,” Ginger says and Trace brings a hand up trying to cover her mouth. “Actions speak louder than- Stop trying to cover my mouth Trace!”

They dissolve into their own argument, their eyes violent, snapping brutally at each other and Justin watches in silent disbelief.

“She’s right,” Charlotte says, drawing his attention back to her, finding her picking at her fingernails in her lap. “It was never something you said. And maybe you didn’t think it but somewhere deep down you believed it.”

“How can you say that?” Justin asks, his chest burning at the accusation.

“I told you I loved you and you walked away!” Charlotte exclaims, her eyes bright with anger and unshed tears. “You had every opportunity, Justin! For the longest time you had a million chances to get out. You had countless people trying to make you see: Trace, your parents, not to mention me. You didn’t want me Justin. I’m not sure you really do now.”

“Charlotte why would I be here if I didn’t want you?” Justin asks exasperated.

“Because Trace pushed you to come,” Charlotte says soberly, a guess and by the way his mouth snaps shut and he looks away from her she knows it’s the truth. Her insides burn. “Goodbye Justin.”

She stands from her barstool, wobbling a little on her feet and Trace and Ginger stop their arguing to watch her step away. She barely gets two feet away before Justin’s hand clamps around her wrist, sending his barstool tumbling backwards in his effort to catch her.

“I’m here because I love you,” Justin says both hands wrapping around her biceps the words tumbling from his lips effortlessly, a gasp tearing from Charlotte’s throat. He swallows hard, breathing raggedly for a moment while searching for more, feeling as if he’s dragging the words from his gut. “You know how I once told you that not knowing what you want isn’t a bad thing? That knowing what you don’t want is just as good as knowing what you do? I know that I don’t want to be without you Charlotte. I don’t know where my life is gonna go from here and I don’t know what kind of person I’m going to become but I want you there with me so I can make sure that I’m becoming a person that you can love. And that can love you back the way you deserve. I’m not perfect. I’m never gonna be. But I will try my damndest to be perfect for you.”

Charlotte blinks back at him, her breathing shallow as she looks into his desperate blue eyes. His fingers are clenching her arms hard enough to bruise, his own chest rising and falling rapidly and surely she can hear his heart pounding. She bites her lip, closing her eyes sending wet tracks down her face, Justin reaching to wipe them away quickly. Her fingers wrap around his wrists, taking a steadying breath that she lets out through pursed lips.

“You’re too late,” she whispers shakily, not opening her eyes but she hears his harsh exhalation, feels it rush against her face.

Justin stares at her dumbfounded, blood roaring in his ears as he tries to comprehend her words. He’s too late? Her eyes open slowly, their greenness startling him, and he lets her pull his hands from her face, letting them fall to his sides slowly. He wants to scream at her “no!,” he wants to grab her again, shake her until she listens but he can’t seem to find his voice, his body leaden and all he can do is stare back at her as the hurt washes completely over him.

“I’m sorr-” she starts but presses her lips together to stop the flow of words.

She knows how he feels, has seen the look on his face before because it’s the same one that she's seen in the mirror over the last several months more than she'd care to admit. She almost reaches for him then, almost touches his face in an effort to comfort but she stops herself. She grits her teeth. He doesn’t deserve comfort, least of all from her.

She turns, bumping into one of the tables around them in her haste to get away, Ginger pulling from Trace to rush after her, trying to call her back. Justin feels the ground under him heave upwards, Trace’s hand settling on his shoulder to steady him as he watches Charlotte walk out the door and, he fears, out of his life for good.