December 23, 2010 1:00 p.m.
It's hard not to blame Xander. I know it just slipped out, but a part of me resents him. He's so at ease around everyone, even people who he should be more wary of. Especially with other people's secrets. My secrets.
Levi's words linger in my mind along with the look of surprised hurt on Wolf's face. Almost as though I had let him down.
The others are walking ahead of us on our way back to our accommodations, but Wolf won't quite meet my eyes. At least not when I'm looking. At the third time he shifts his gaze away when I turn my head, I blurt out in exasperation, "So are you just not going to talk to me?"
Wolf still doesn't look at me. "I am talking to you."
"Yeah," I scoff. "Right." Without waiting for a response, I stride past him and catch up to the others.
Levi gives me a sympathetic look. "You look like you just got coal in your stocking."
"No thanks to you two," I reply glumly, sighing.
"Me?" Levi looks taken aback. "What did I do?"
"Reinforced Wolf and Graeme's belief I'm a grubby gold digger, for a start." Tears prick at my eyes but it's so cold that they don't fall, for which I am immensely grateful.
"He's an idiot if he believes that," Levi dismisses.
"Yeah," I echo. I'm sure of only one thing - that in all this, it's me who has been the idiot.
The Woodland House lives up to its name. It's a rustic brick and wood cabin that almost looks like something from the set of Little House on the Prairie. Even though snow has covered everything with its unforgiving blanket, I can see flower beds which will bloom in spring and spindly trees which will soon have scores of squirrels scrambling up its branches. To everything there is a season...
Wolfram is winter. He is sharp ice and fireside warmth. His eyes could cut glass but his smile would light up a room with its blaze if he wanted.
Graeme is spring, still thawing from the bite of winter and with a fragility that you wouldn't believe unless you knew her. She is beauty and brains, and I think, somewhere deep down, she could be kindness. One day.
Levi and Xander are summer. Irrepressible and full of light, always shining not only on themselves but the people around them.
I am fall, the most ambiguous of seasons, when life can turn soft and languid or sharp and brittle. I am the precursor to winter, but I haven't lost my summer glow. My heart is heavy and my hope reluctant, but winter will take its due. I can rage against the coming of the chill, of the death of the soft summer, but it is a futile rage.
Thinking of this, my rage seeps away. Liking Wolf is not in my control. It's hormones and pheromones and probably a heap of other chemical interactions that are beyond my comprehension. He is as certain and as unstoppable as the chill of winter which comes to choke the life out of the summer.
My thoughts have taken a melodramatic turn. Thankfully, I don't have to dwell on it much longer because Levi pushes past me to grab the door Graeme has almost let slam shut in my face.
"My lady," he mock-bows, holding the door for me.
Dazed, I half-heartedly smile. "Thanks."
We enter into a small foyer, all of us crowded into the small space before Xander pushes open another door which leads to a spacious living area. A six-seat dining table, small corner kitchen, and a suite of unimaginatively brown couches and armchairs. Levi opens the door next to the entrance, peering in. "Toilet," he announces.
"Home sweet home." Graeme's face looks around unhappily. I can see what's going through her mind: This isn't the Ritz.
"Is this what slummin' it looks like?" Wolf jokes, the first to head up the stairs. "Bedrooms are on this floor!"
We all pile after him and poke our heads into each room we encounter. Two rooms nearly identical with double beds and matching nightstands and a third, smaller room with bunk bed.
"We'll have to share," Graeme says, shouldering her bag.
"I'll take the bunk," Levi says with a shrug.
Eloquent as ever, Xander mumbles, "I need to pee," and ducks down the stairs.
"There's a bathroom up here!" Graeme calls after him, then sighs. "Boys," she mutters under her breath.
She dumps her bag onto the bed closest to the window without asking. "I'm gonna take a nap for a while." Without waiting for an answer, she flops onto the bed, crawling towards the pillow and promptly shimmying under the blankets.
"She's got the right idea. I'm gonna get some sleep, too. " Levi ruffles the back of his head. "And probably get some NyQuil while I'm at it."
His disappearance into his bedroom leaves Wolf and me alone in the hallway. Steven Albright hangs in the air between us, thick and tangible.
"Are you, like, jealous?" The words spill out of me, the spite laden down heavily on my tongue. "Over an ex-boyfriend who is honestly none of your business?"
"No." His face is sullen, lips downturned.
"Then?"
"I don't want to talk about it." His lip warps into a sneer. "Isn't that what you offered me earlier? That we don't have to talk about things?"
My own words hit me in the face and I blanch, almost recoiling.
"I thought you were different." Wolf's voice is low.
"And you're the same," I hiss back. "You know, I thought your attitude towards me had changed, but no. You still think I'm after money."
"I don't."
But his words don't ring true.
"I still like you," he tries again, and at this I can't help but sigh.
"But you don't trust me."
"It's not that," he said, frowning. "It's just that I didn't know you dated guys like that."
"Does it matter?"
"Yes," he shoots back.
"Why?"
He clamps his lips tightly shut.
Suddenly, it occurs to me. "Oh my god," I whisper. "Are your manly sensibilities offended that you're not the first guy in a tailored suit to sweep me off my feet?"
His silence condemns him.
"Wolf, that's ridiculous." I lower my voice, stepping closer to him. "I don't have a type."
He looks like a mutinous four year old. I shouldn't find it cute, but I do. Lightly, I touch his upper arm. I feel the muscle flex beneath my fingers and he finally looks at me.
"I'm being an idiot." His tone is wry. "I can't help myself."
"I've noticed." I roll my eyes. "And your bad habits have rubbed off on me."
At his raised eyebrow, I point to my right eye. "I'll have you know that I never used to roll my eyes before meeting you people."
Wolfram's eyebrow marginally hikes up a half inch. "You people?" he repeats, disbelief written all over his face.
"Yeah, whatever."
Below us, the television clicks to life. I can hear a program in English, but before I can crane my ear to listen, Wolf drags me into the room he's sharing with Xander. He dumps the bags against the wall and motions for me to sit.
The bed is a double, which in Europe means it's two full sized beds which have been pushed together to resemble a queen. I lay down on one side and fold my hands across my abdomen.
He mirrors my movement in silence. "His newspapers have written about van der Waals Enterprises for years. He's not our biggest supporter."
He means Steven's father. "I don't read his paper," I admit. "Too high brow."
"I've met the son a few times." He leans on his elbow, facing me. "Did you meet him through Xander, too?"
"I had an entrepreneurship class with him. His dad knows Xander's dad, though."
"Ah." Wolf nods like this explains everything. "When you're from our world, you don't have friends. You have business associates. People you used to have play dates with just because your dads were trying to close a deal. Those people grow up to be our competition or our business partners."
"Like Diana," I conclude.
"Xander is my first friend," Wolf says, so suddenly, so unexpectedly, that my breath catches.
At my flabbergasted look, he rolls his eyes, flopping back onto his back.
"Sorry, I just...I'm absorbing." My eyes narrow. "Is that why you were such a dick to me? You were jealous of me for being friends with him!"
Wolf glares.
"I'm right, aren't I?"
"Partly," he admits. "Ever since we got close, it's been Charlotte this and Charlotte that. Do you know how hard it is to be friends with someone who already has a best friend?"
"Xander isn't the kind of guy who limits himself to just one friend," I argue.
"Yeah, but it's hard competing against you. You're plastered all over his life. Pictures at home, on his phone, at work. I sort of hated you." He pauses, watching my expression. "Does that weird you out?"
"It should, but..." I trail off. "Xander is pretty great. I can't hold it against you for wanting to be his friend."
"You're too nice for your own good, you know that?" His lips split lazily into a smile.
I relax my arms at my side, closing my eyes. "I'm not."
He snorts. "As the person who has frequently been the recipient of your kindness, I beg to differ." He pauses, and I am almost hear the gearboxes in his head spin madly. "What will you do when you go home?"
"Finish the semester. Get the business going."
"You actually know what you want to do," he says in a tone of wonder. "And you're...so young."
"I'm twenty-two!" I protest vociferously, giving him a scowl.
He chuckles, the sound reverberating low and deep in his chest. "I'm twenty-seven and I still don't have it all figured out. Work at dad's company, probably take over one day, get married to someone socially acceptable..." he trails off.
"That's okay." I snuggle my cheek into the pillow, watching him. The interplay of emotion across his face is interesting to watch; frustration, disappointment, envy. "You don't have to walk the path that's expected of you."
"Says someone who has options," he mutters.
"You could too!"
"That's naive thinking," he corrects. "Family businesses only stay strong as long as they stay in the family."
I clam up, sensing that this is a point of view I won't be able to alter. Like most people, Wolf has a way of demoralizing himself in order to justify his decisions.
His hand grazes mine.
A tingle shoots straight up my spine. My finger twitches in response, the pinky curling around his.
Encouraged, his fingers wrap around mine, the rough pad of his thumb brushing over my knuckles before he laces his fingers between mine.
"I like you," he murmurs.
My eyes drop to his lips. He watches the movement with a knowing smile, but it falters at my next words.
"I don't really like you," I whisper back. My words are the sharp blade of a knife, but my fingers squeeze onto his hand tighter. I do not know how to be disingenuous. My mother once told me that truth without compassion was cruelty, so I dull the sting by adding, "But I'd like to."
His eyes soften in understanding. "Thank you, Charlotte."
My lips form a crooked grin. "You're welcome, Wolf."
Author's Note: Listen to the song while you read this chapter! :) Let me know what you think!
My biggest question for you guys is...how believable are you finding Charlotte and Wolfram's relationship? Obviously, they've only known each other a day so it's not going to be rainbows and sunshine and true love right now xD I am not a big fan of stories where the main characters fall in love immediately without really earning it, so I'm trying to make it a bit of an uphill battle getting them to a good place in their relationship. Right now it's still Charlotte trying to come to terms with what liking Wolfram will mean for her, and also whether she DOES like him. Let's face it, he hasn't been the greatest to her.
But I'd love to get your impressions of this. :) Drop me a line!