Despite the overall happiness bubbling in me at the prospect of spending the night with Charlie, my stomach is churning with uncertainty. I still haven't gotten any explanation from him as to why he decided to go MIA on me for two days. He did say he'd explain but I'm starting to get impatient and I'm holding myself back from flat out demanding the answer to my questions. But that would come across entitled and I don't want to push him into giving me an explanation. It's not like we are together so it's not unheard of for fuck buddies to not make contact with each other. You only meet when you want to fuckâthat's the whole point.
It's a devastating realisation to say the least. This whole undefined thing we have going on is really starting to feel like the worst decision I've ever made. Deciding to go for a friends with benefit situation with a guy I like was obviously not a smart move on my part. The repercussions hurt like hell. And the fact that I'm not ready to let go of whatever it is we have hurts even more.
Like Charlie could sense the emotional turmoil brewing up inside of me, his right hand has been permanently entwined with mine as he expertly manoeuvres the steering wheel of his jeep with his left. His blatant effort to reassure me doesn't go unnoticed and it makes heat creep down my spine to the most sensitive part of me. Why does he have to be so attentive when he's not into me that way? And why the hell does he have to look so good doing it? Why can't he just be ugly and inattentiveâmaybe this entire ordeal wouldn't be as bad.
I sigh, unlocking my phone with my spare hand as the familiar ping of a message pierces the air. It's a message from Huntley. Melissa Huntley is probably the most professional woman I have ever met but this woman knows nothing about work boundaries. Especially when it comes to assignments. She messages me whenever she feels like it and it's getting a bit overbearing and tiring now. I'm not complaining about writingâjournalism is my dream and I love writing. But I hate writing for Melissa sometimes. I hate how she picks apart my ideas and writing style until she's twisted it into what she wants. I know journalists don't always get to write what they want but at least let it feel like I wrote it.
It also doesn't help that I have never actually written a piece that corresponds with the branch of journalism I now want to go into which is sports journalism since the piece on Charlie. A little ironic that I'm not the biggest sports person, yes I know. But ever since been friends with Isaac and reading the pieces he's written for the sports section, I've been falling in love with sports journalism. Not to mention watching Charlie's basketball games invokes something in me that I can't explain. The adrenaline and rush I get watching them play, well, it makes me want to write.
However, I've been stuck in the Student Life section for a while now and that gets boring. I don't know if it's punishment for all the ruckus that happened with Charlie's article. Not that it should be, since I've heard around the office that it was one of the most popular articles this year. I mean, shouldn't that be more of an encouragement to get me writing more about sports? Heck, I wouldn't even mind going back into war journalism like I started out to do originally. Anything but the next issue on UCLA's dance marathon.
I click on her text, eager to know what she wants.
MELISSA H
I want you on the Daily Bruin Diversity Report. There's a banquet happening next Thursday for members of the student union. I'll have the team get you a press pass so you can speak with the student body president Sarah Whittington. I'll mail you the briefing in the AM.
Why am I not shocked?
LORRAINE
Another Student Life issue? Sounds great.
I sigh tiredly, hoping she senses the sarcasm through the phone.
"That's an awfully heavy sigh," he finally says, his voice a soft break into the silence of his jeep. I tear my gaze away from my phone, dropping the device in the little compartment between us, grateful for a distraction from my thoughts and my unreasonable editor. "You okay?"
I nod, changing position so that I'm leaning against the door and looking at him. "Yeah," I add, unable to keep the solemnity I'm feeling out of my voice. Charlie's eyes roam my face worriedly, his posture turning stiff with worry. "Just internship stuff."
"Yeah, what about it?"
"We can talk about it later, after your surprise. I don't want to dampen the mood with my problems."
"I couldn't give less of a shit about the surprise when something's clearly bothering you," Charlie's voice is soft but there's a hint of seriousness in his tone. He's not going to let this go so I might as well fess up about it. His fingers drum against the back of my hand on our entwined hands making me look at him. His blue eyes are warm and encouraging. "Come on baby, talk to me."
My resolve instantly melts at not just his words, but the way he's looking at me. "I'm sick of what my editor wants me to write."
"Melissa Huntley?" He asks, eyes shining with recognition. I nod at his question, fighting back the feeling of failure bubbling in the deepest pit of my stomach.
"I don't think she thinks I'm good enough. And if she thinks that, then it's probably true." I hate the sound of my own voice as the words spill out of my mouth. I sound pathetic. But now that I've started, I can't stop the heaviness on my chest. "I'm never going to get out of what she wants me to write so I might as well kiss my chance of switching to sports journalism goodbye."
"You're thinking about leaving war and switching to sports?" I nod again, my eyes glued to our entwined hands as I aimlessly pull at a loose thread on my jeans. "But you love war journalism. You had that article from high school published."
"Yeah," I say, memory flashing to how proud my parents and I were of that accomplishment. "My abuela still has a copy hanging in her living room in Colombia. My parents literally FedEx'd it."
"Yes, because it was a bloody excellent article. The great grand kids need to see it." That draws an unexpected splutter of laughter out of me.
"How would you know, you haven't even read the thing."
"Sure have," he says smoothly. "I dug it up whilst you were sleeping after eating the edibles." I couldn't quite believe what I was hearing as I watch him. He glanced at me quickly, a serious look on his face. "I've read everything you've written sophomore, you're brilliant."
The emotion that fills my chest is so overwhelming, it makes me speechless. He readâreadsâmy articles? I have no time to process this new information as he throws another question my way. "Why sports journalism? You don't even love sports."
"Yes I do!" Charlie gives me a look that says really? "Ok, just because I'm not at every game doesn't mean I don't like sports."
"Name one NFL team right now."
I fall short. I genuinely have no idea of any football teams.
"I can't. But you can teach me." I say, batting my eyes at him suggestively. "And you'd get things in return. Good things."
"You want to trade me teaching you about sports for sex?"
Heat creeps up my neck and my face at his words. I play it off with an eye roll. "Forget it, you're so annoying."
Charlie chuckles. "I'm kidding." He says, bringing my hands to his lips for a quick kiss. The feeling of his lips linger on the back of my hand for far too long. "If you want to switch to sports journalism, I 1000% support you. I just want you to know why you're getting into it."
"I know." It's the reason I haven't said anything to anyone. I wanted to be sure my reasons for choosing sports journalism isn't because of Charlie. This is not some ploy to have something in common with him. This is me exploring other things. "Truth is, I think picked war journalism because the article I wrote on Afghanistan was really good. It was my first and only war piece. I haven't been able to write anything else since then because I'm scared it's never going to be as good. Swapping to sports is what I want, truly."
"F*ck Melissa Huntley and what she thinks then. Baby, if you want to be a sports journalist, that's exactly what you're going to be. You're a f*cking fantastic writer and I'm not saying that because I want some head later on tonight."
"It's not that simple though." I say on a laugh.
Charlie who's smiling now too asks "What makes it so difficult?"
"For starters, Melissa has the final say on what articles I write or what article gets published. If she doesn't sign off on it then it's pointless."
"I understand that, but this is where consistency comes in. You're still a sophomore, sophomore. You've got that internship for 2 more years. Write the pieces she's assigned you, put in a bit of extra effort writing what she didn't assign that you're interested in. You can't just wait until she gives you a story to write. You give her a story to edit."
It was the most simple solution to the most complicated problem.
"Look, start from here," he continues. "The preseason NIT finals are on Monday. If you can pull it off, write about that plus the one she's already assigned to you. I'm not saying it's going to be easy but if there's any journalist who can write two bomb ass articles at the same time, it's you. You gotta show Melissa that. She's going to be so blown away by it, she'd have no choice but to publish them both."
The thought of writing 2 articles is daunting but I've done it before. I know I can pull it off. It'll be a tight squeeze in between school work but I can definitely manage. I don't let Charlie's praise go over my head though. I send him an appreciative smile. "You sure know how to feed a girl's ego."
"My girl's ego." He corrects. An awkward silence stretches over us, my heart pounding so loudly I think Charlie can hear it. His girl? His? What does that even mean!
I clear my throat loudly. "I'll need to set up a couple of interviews." I say instead.
"Well," Charlie winces slightly as if in pain. I don't know what it means but I ignore it. "You happen to know the team captain. He can help you score interviews with anyone you wantâeven the coach." Charlie bats his eyes suggestively, copying my own actions from earlier. The awkwardness from earlier immediately disappears into thin air. "Only if he gets things in return...good things."
"You're insufferable," I untangle our fingers in fake annoyance as Charlie's deep laughter washes over me, tingling my senses. I can't help the smile that creeps up my face as we pull up in front of one of Beverly Hills' 5 star hotels.
"We're here." Charlie announces, parking up behind a black Aston Martin on the valet line. A valet automatically appears next to his door, ready to take the car from Charlie. "Don't go anywhere." He instructs before climbing out of the jeep, leaving me to stare out of the window in both awe and confusion.
Not only is the Waldorf Astoria the most beautiful hotel ever but it's one of my absolutely favourite places on the top of my luxury places to visit in La list. Elleâwhose parents own a part of the hotelâthinks the Beverly Wilshire where pretty woman was shot is better and hates the Waldorf hotel but I think she's just being biased because she hates her parents. Ever since Elle showed me a picture of the hotel in freshman year; I have been obsessed. Except, it was way over my budget and I could never afford spending even half a day in there. I resorted to following them on instagram instead.
Elle had offered multiple times for us to go together but it just seemed kind of unfair to force her to go where she didn't want to whilst also using her for her parent's moneyâwhich she absolutely hates spending.
But how did Charlie find out about this hotel? My eyes find him where he's speaking to the valet. I instantly grab my phone and shoot out a message on our group chat, attaching a picture of the hotel.
LORRAINE
Which one of you did this?!!
ELLE
Guilty.
LORRAINE
AND YOU DIDNT TELL ME???? I would have packed better.
SHADE
We were sworn to secrecy, sorry ð
I roll my eyes. They could have hinted me at least.
LORRAINE
omg, I can't believe he actually brought me here. To Waldorf's!! Pinch me!!
How is he able to afford this ??
ELLE
Didn't you know your boy toy's totally loaded?
His dad's the CEO of a huge sports agency here in LA & New York.
Plus he's just gotten drafted by the flipping NBA Lor, he's about to be way much richer than he is now.
Which is true. I never knew about Charlie's dad because he's never told me. Their relationship is strainedâI know that much. And I guess I haven't put much thought into the whole playing for an NBA team thing after he graduates.
LORRAINE
What is it guys, is it dinner? Because I didn't pack any dress!
SAMANTHA
No one respond to her. Get off your phone. Have fun. Love you, bye ð
LORRAINE
traitors.
I roll my eyes again, knowing I wouldn't get anything out of them. I lock my phone just as Charlie opens my door and the valet gets in the driver's seat. I unbuckle myself and climb out with the help of Charlie, unable to stop the grin on my face. "How did you know?" I ask before I can stop myself. "I've always wanted to come here."
Obviously delighted by my reaction, Charlie grabs my hand as we start walking into the hotel lobby. A shy grin graces his face. "I had help." He says truthfully. I turn back to the car, he must have seen the confusion on my face because he pulls me closer. "I sent our things with the bellhop already, and I checked in earlier today so we don't have to go to the desk."
"Really?" I ask as I look around the expensive looking lobby. I know I must look like Charlie when he saw the chocolate factory for the first time but I really do not care. "It's so beautiful in here and it smells wonderful too."
Charlie chuckles, not fazed by excitement as we stand In front of the elevator. "Wait till you see our room."
****
Charlie was right. The lobby isn't the most beautiful thing about the hotel. Our Deluxe corner junior suite which is on the 10th floor has the best view of Beverly Hills. Which I'm sure would look absolutely beautiful at nighttime. I walk back into our room, just as Charlie shuts the door behind him, both our bags in his hands which he goes to put on the sofa.
"You like?" He asks, apprehension evident in his eyes and voice.
"Like?" My tone is incredulous as I walk towards him. "Charlie, I love it. A lot. I'm so happy to be here, I'm resisting the urge to jump on that bed like a 3 year old." I say genuinely. Charlie wraps his hands around my waist and pulls me to his chest, his eyes not leaving mine. "Most importantly, I'm happy to be here with you. A lot more."
"Is that so?" His voice has dropped an octave. The hairs on the back of hair stand at alert as the intensity of his gaze changes. "How much more?"
"Why don't I show you?" I smile coyly just before his lips drop mine. The kiss totally obliterates me. I can't believe we haven't kissed in over 3 days. And I have missed the feeling of his lips on mineâand on different parts of me that are now dancing with joy at the thought of being touched with Charlie's mouth. The kiss that started off as a soft caress changes course quickly as Charlie's tongue sweeps inside my mouth expertly. I sigh deeply, pushing against him as my hands come up around his neck. Pulling him closer to me as much as possible. I can feel Charlie's erection poking at my belly and I have to fight the urge to strip naked and bare myself before him.
Charlie's hands are everywhere, his greedy mouth leaving my face to the sensitive skin along my neck. He sucks on the skin, hard. Obviously branding me with a hickyâbut I don't care. I let him take, moaning in response. I'm so wet already, my pussy is throbbing.
Charlie's mouth finds mine again. His kiss is softer now. Gentle. "As much as I want us to do this and it pains me to say this," he mutters in between kisses. "We've got an itinerary." Charlie breaks our kiss, forcing me to open my eyes.
Still recovering from our kiss, I stare up at him dumbly. "We have?"
Charlie nods, a small smile gracing his face as he watches me. "We've got a couple's massage in about 15 minutes. But I also booked you the manicure and pedicure option so whilst you're doing that, I'll be here in the room. Sounds like a plan?"
My face breaks into the biggest grin as I wonder what I did to deserve this. I lean up to kiss him by chin quickly.
"Sounds like a plan."