There was no weaselling out of Charlie's question. My heart is racing a mile a minute in my chest as I try to bring myself back to earth whilst also thinking about the best way to explain that I've been talking to his sister behind his back.
Charlie's gaze on my face is intentâhe wants an answer and he's not going to stop until he gets one, that much is certain from how he's staring at me. I swallow, sitting up slowly on the bed and wrapping the sheets around myself. Charlie moves away from me and stands which makes him look more intimidating as he asks again. "Lorraine, how do you know Dixie?"
How do I know Dixie? Do I even know Dixie?
"I don't," I say truthfully, forcing myself to sit crisscross apple sauce on the bed. Charlie raises his eyes brows at me in an 'and' way that makes me swallow. "We followed each other on social media."
"You expect me to believe you just randomly followed her on social media." Charlie nods sarcastically. "Yeah that makes total f*cking sense. How long as this been going on?"
"We met only two weeks ago. Our texts have been very irregular because I guess she has been anxious about you finding out she reached out to me."
"You say that like it somehow makes it better that you have been talking to her behind my back."
"I didn't go behind your back."
"You didn't tell me." He counters.
Shit.
"I couldn't." I know I'm treading on thin ice as I say this. Charlie's eyes flare with an insane amount of anger, it takes all my strength to sit there and watch him. He's angry. Furious at me. But I want to know why. I want to know what the deal is with his family. The full story with Dixie.
"That's f*cking bullshit and you know it. You didn't want to tell me. I know you Lorraine. What the hell did you think you were going to find?"
His word cut deeper than I wanted it to.
"She came to me, Charlie. She needed my help yesterday and I couldn't turn her down. And I definitely couldn't tell you because for some reason she's terrified of you!" My voice rises a notch and Charlie winces slightly, like I've struck him with my words. I take a deep breath, closing my eyes as I get the air in my lungs. When I open them again, Charlie is putting his trousers on. "Where are you going?"
My heart starts racing in my chest as I watch him wear his clothes. "What did she need your help for?" He ignores me as he shrugs on his top. Realising that he's leaving, I leap off my bed and go to stand by the door. It's not until I turn around that I realise my top is off.
Charlie's eyes darken when they land on me. I hear him groan like he's in pain. Knowing that this man is furious at me but is still affected by seeing me naked gives me an ego boost like never before. Reluctantly, my hands come up to cover my chest. "We're talking. You're not leaving."
"I wasn't leaving." He says, blinking slightly.
"You're getting dressed." I point out.
"Because I'm mad at you, sophomore. And I'm trying to calm myself down."
"By getting dressed?"
"Yes. It was the only thing I could think of."
"Why's your sister so terrified of you." I ask quietly, trying not to sound as exasperated as I feel but failing miserably.
"Don't call her that." His voice is surprisingly cold. I almost shiver. "She's not my sister."
I don't mention the fact that he called her his sister a few moments ago. I don't think that's going to do much for the situation at hand.
"Charlieâ"
"Dixie is not my sister, Robin is!" The outburst startles me more than I expected it toâI didn't expect it at all. Neither of us did. Because Charlie immediately shrinks back and I see it immediately before he can mask his emotions. Regret. Panic. Sadness. A shit ton of sadness. "And Robin's dead. My sister is dead. She's goneâ" his voice breaks and something in me breaks with it.
An overwhelming feeling of selfishness washes over me as I stare at Charlie looking like a wounded animal. Like he's in so much pain. Selfishness for wanting to dig into Charlie's personal life behind his back. And for what? Just so I can feel somewhat closer to him. After he's already shared as much as he could with me. He's clearly not ready to share this part with me and I've totally jumped the gun by trying to have a relationship with Dixie. Especially when I know he has a rocky relationship with her.
"Charlie, I'm so sorry." I call immediately, taking a step forward and so grateful that Charlie doesn't take a step backwards when I take his hands in mine. "I should have told you the moment she reached out to me. I should have told you everything. I'm so sorry."
Charlie shakes his head, his eyes looking everywhere but at me. My heart breaks once again when I see how hard he's fighting his tears. But I don't want him to. I grab his face in my hands and force him to look at me. I nod, letting him know it's okay to break in front of me. I can handle it. "F*ck, Lorraine." He says quietly, traitorous tears rolling down his cheeks in fast drops. "Robin's dead. My sister is dead. Robin's dead."
I don't know how we get on the floor, or how long we sit there with Charlie repeating the same two sentences as I hold him and tell him it's okay. But when Charlie finally starts snoring softly, I try to detangle myself from him but his hold tightens. "I'm just going to get a couple of pillows and the blanket." I mutter quietly. "And put on a top." I add. His hold loosens. If the situation was different, I would have laughed. I smile nonetheless as I shrug on my top and grab a couple of pillows before peeling my duvet cover off the bed.
My eyes catch my phone and I immediately reach for it and click on my instagram.
Dix.taugh: thank you for yesterday. It's nice to know I can rely on you.
Lorraine: We can't speak anymore. Not until you and Charlie are cool. I'm sorry. Goodbye.
I throw my phone back on the bed and lock the door before making us a somewhat makeshift bed on my center carpet and settling next to Charlie. I fall asleep hours later.
****
Two days, 8 classes, one published article, 3 unopened messages that I'm dying to respond to from Dixie later and still no Charlie. Not a phone call. Not a text message. Just radio silence and oh, a paper note (seems like he loves those) informing me not to worry and that he'll call me as soon as he can. Which is probably never at the rate he's going.
I go on my iMessage for the umpteenth time today. My last message from two hours ago still says delivered. I let out a long tired sigh as my eyes follow the trail of blue bubbles.
Monday 14:35
Hey, I got your note. Are you okay?
You missed Stat class, is everything okay.
Monday 22:16
Are you angry with me? It's fine, you can tell me. I can take it. What I can't take is you not talking to me. Or responding to my texts.
One grey bubble.
Monday 23:49
I'm not angry with you Lor.
So why aren't you talking to me?
Yesterday 11:28
Hey, I heard from Dante that you've been training for the NIT finals. I hope you're finding time to rest too. I hope you're sleeping well and listening to Coach Riley.
Today 16:46
I miss you. A lot. I'm going crazy not hearing from you. But I want you to take however much time you need. I'm here.
I let out another huge sigh, trying to kill the feeling of patheticness that's starting to bite at my insides. I have to put Charlie's feelings first this time. He's going through something and everyone handles grief differently. I'm not going to sit here and get mad at him for disappearing. Or make it about me by thinking he's doing it because he doesn't care. All I really care about now is how he's feelingâespecially after seeing just how broken he was. Knowing I was the catalyst behind his explosion just makes me feel a hundred times worse.
I hear a familiar message ping and my heart's rhythm picks up immediately.
Hey Lor, can I call you?
Yes.
His call comes in a second after. Before I can prepare myself for the waves of emotions I'm about to feel. Especially when I hear the rich rumble of his voice mutter a cool "hey" having not heard it for two days. My belly tightens.
"Hey." I respond, climbing into my bed and pulling the covers over me. I can hear the sound of balls bouncing and people yelling in the background. The knot in my belly tightens more. This wouldn't be a long conversation. "You're at practice." I mention, wishing I didn't sound as disappointed as I felt.
"Yeah, we're rounding up and I've just managed to get to my phone. I saw your text." He sniffs.
"Oh."
"Yeah I'm calling to make sure you're still of sound mind." He says playfully and I manage a little giggle, my feet instinctively rubbing against each other. "The only time you need to be losing your mind is when I'm eating your pussy."
His voice is cool and steady.
I blush profusely and my toes curl at the thought. I miss him so much. Before I can playfully scold him, someone shouts his name in the background. "Two minutes." He tells the person. Panic rises in my chest slightly. I haven't even spoken. I haven't even spoken to him yet or asked how he is. "Baby, I miss you more than anything. And no I am not angry at you please, please, please stop thinking that and worrying about that and also, tomorrow's Thursday, I know you've only got that journalism class at 9. I'll pick you up after. Er, pack a night bag, bikini, comfy pjsâ" his name is shouted out again. "I said two minutes! Sorry babe, I've got to go. Just pack okay, I'll pick you up after your class. Bye."
The line cuts off before I can respond.
I let out a frustrated grunt as I turn on my back and stare at the ceiling . That was not even half a decent conversation. After replaying his words in my head for about 10 minutes, I finally push myself out of my bed to pack a night bag. When I'm done, I go to bed somewhat still unsatisfied.
A very short filler chapter but i hope you enjoyed it