by Haley Cass
“I’ll be fine. Besides, you’re next to me, and practically a human furnace apparently,” she joked.
Sutton scoffed before biting her lip. “So . . . what about you?” Rolling her eyes at herself, she added on, “I mean, are you? Out?”
Charlotte hmm’d. “To my family, yes. To the general public, no.”
“What about to your friends?”
Charlotte laughed. “To Dean and you? Yes.”
Surprised – both at such a short list, and having herself included, despite the fact that it made her happy – she looked down at Charlotte. Who was looking ahead of them, looking unperturbed.
“So that’s why you don’t like to date? Or – or have a relationship? Because of your job?”
Charlotte turned to look at her sharply but didn’t appear to be upset. She almost seemed more amused than anything. “I suppose you could think of it that way, but . . . it’s not exactly the whole picture.”
She let out a thoughtful sigh and disentangled their arms to step away and run her hand along the railing they were passing.
Charlotte shrugged before glancing over her shoulder at Sutton. Who looked back at her in confusion. “What is the whole picture, then?”
She sighed, a thoughtful look on her face. “It’s not that I want to be alone. It’s just that, I don’t think that love is necessarily as important as people make it out to be. Or, maybe it is to some people, but not to me. Some people grow up, dreaming about falling in love or getting married. I grew up, dreaming about becoming a Senator. The President.”
Her eyes narrowed contemplatively as she measured Charlotte’s words, and she walked slowly alongside her. But she found herself frowning. “But – why does it have to be one or the other?”
Charlotte gave Sutton a fond look, “I’m not saying it has to be, for everyone. And maybe I’ll find someone. One day. But I prefer to focus on my career, which is already difficult enough with my being so young and a woman, without adding sexuality into the mix. In that way, I suppose I’m lucky that I don’t have the inclination for dating; nothing is at odds.”
She spoke of it so lightly, as if it didn’t affect her at all.
“It seems lonely.”
She cringed at herself for letting the words escape her before she could really think about them. Even if it seemed like the truth to her.
Charlotte shrugged, not looking particularly upset – not nearly as upset as the idea of Charlotte being alone forever made Sutton feel. “It . . . has its moments. But doesn’t everyone feel lonely sometimes, no matter what?”
Sutton shrugged, begrudging, “I guess so.” She nudged Charlotte’s shoulder with her own, trying to alleviate this uncomfortably heavy feeling in her stomach. “Your grand plans are safe with me.”
Charlotte quirked an eyebrow playfully. “If I believed I couldn’t trust you, Sutton Spencer, I wouldn’t have told you anything.”
She didn’t wonder until much later if it was odd to feel so proud of herself, and practically elated, at the fact that someone like Charlotte – someone who was so very private and had all of those little compartments of her life tucked neatly away from one another – put her faith in her.
“I make an excellent friend,” she promised, and her tone was light and joking, but she hoped Charlotte could see that she was being serious.
Charlotte gave her a thoughtful look, one that made the tips of Sutton’s ears burn in a blush, but then her face melted into something of a self-deprecating smile. “That’s good, because I could probably use one.”
Sutton felt herself smiling back, before Charlotte led them through a clearing in the path, looking somewhat longingly at the shrubbery that was just starting to die with the chilly weather.
“Do you actually like gardening?” She asked, then wondered if it was weird that she remembered that. “I mean. It was on your profile.”
“Yes, I do love to garden. That is all true. And what about you? Was yours all true?” She tipped her head to the side, narrowing her eyes in thought, “Lemon cakes, dogs, knitting, snow, literature, and . . .”
“Running,” she supplied, feeling ridiculously flattered that Charlotte remembered all of that. “And yes, all of that is true."
Charlotte’s smile was sharp and bright, “Well, literature definitely makes perfect sense, now that I know who you are.” Sutton was surprised when she felt her soft, slightly cold hand reach out and snag her own, tugging a bit. “Now, come. I’ll teach you something about flowers before I have to get back to work.”
***
Over an hour and a walk down to the end of the High Line later, they were drawing up to Sutton’s apartment building. Even though she had chapters of her mom’s latest book to read waiting for her in her email – which she usually read immediately – she found that she didn’t really want to say goodbye.
It had been even better than she was expecting, and she didn’t know where along the way it had happened, but all of those nerves had faded long ago. She hadn’t really made any new friends in a while – she had Regan, who she’d known forever. Emma. A few other girls at home that she kept in contact with, a few from undergrad that she caught up with on campus.
There was no one quite like Charlotte, though. And now she knew that it wasn’t just the novelty of her being new in her life, but rather just who she was that made her so . . . cool.
“This was a very good distraction for the mess of paperwork I have waiting for me. Even better than I expected, actually,” she added with an affectionate smile.
“We’ll do this again, right?” She blurted out, hearing the eager inquiry in her own tone and mentally rolling her eyes at herself. Because she truly had, as Regan loved to tell her, no chill.
Charlotte chuckled softly. “Well, we are the most trusted of friends now.” She shot her a wink. “Text me.”
“I will,” she assured, before she bit her lip, unsure of exactly how to say goodbye. Should she hug her? Like she did with her other friends?
She didn’t realize it was happening until it was happening but Charlotte was leaning up, and her eyes widened in anticipation as her stomach dropped out. Her eyes snapped shut and she felt herself get warm all over.
Before she felt soft, cool lips against her cheek.
Her breath left her in a startled whoosh, and when she breathed back in, she felt immersed in that amazing perfume Charlotte wore, as the wind blew a few strands of light brown hair against Sutton’s other cheek in a light caress.
She wondered if Charlotte could actually feel her blush, because she could surely feel her own hands shaking.
Sutton didn’t realize she was holding her breath until Charlotte ended the lingering kiss, leaning back with an easy smile that Sutton could in no way replicate. Not when her heart was beating erratically in her chest the way it was.
“This was really fun, Sutton. I’ll see you later.” Charlotte squeezed Sutton’s arm quickly, before she waved – how did she manage to still look cool while waving? – and she turned to go. She did it all in a more casual manner than Sutton could ever hope for.
The words, “I – yeah. I’ll text you,” croaked out of her somewhat dazedly, as she watched Charlotte slip her hands into her pockets and strut down the street.
It took her a few more moments to get a hold of herself, because her cheek was still burning and tinging. Her hands had the slightest tremor as she reached into her pocket to retrieve her keys.
God, if Charlotte could kiss her on the cheek and make her feel like she was about to faint, she could only imagine what it would be like if Charlotte were to ever kiss her, for real.
And just like that, she groaned, her stomach sinking. Because Regan was right, and she had a crush. A big, gay crush on Charlotte.
Chapter 8
The race for the late John Kelvin’s House of Representatives seat is on. Kelvin, whose political career amassed over forty years, spent the last six years of said career in the House of Representatives. His untimely and unforeseen passing has left
his seat open, calling for a special election to take place in the forthcoming month of March.
With campaigns announced only two weeks ago, two candidates have emerged in the running: Naomi Young and Charlotte Thompson.
Young, 52, is the eldest child and only daughter of former President Charles Young, in office 2004-2008, as well as the widow of the late Senator Robert Carmichael (1963-2016). She attended Baylor University, graduating with a degree in anthropology, and has been on the boards of multiple organizations over the years. Most notably, she worked as a liaison for the Committee of Consumer Affairs and Business Licensing for several years.
Thompson, 28, is the grandchild of former President Elizabeth Thompson, in office 2008-2016. She graduated at the top of her class from Yale University, with a degree in political science as well as a law degree from Columbia. She worked in the policy unit for Governor Mark Ford upon graduation, before her current job working as First Deputy Mayor to Mayor Dean Walker.
Imani Diop has the first official interview with candidate Charlotte Thompson:
Diop: Naomi has already gone on record to question your experience as a politician.
Thompson: [laughs lightly] Yes, so I’ve heard.
Diop: What do you have to say to address her concerns regarding your age and experience?
Thompson: First and foremost, I would like to state that Naomi Young can disparage my political career all she would like to, but it remains to be said that she herself has no formal experience in a professional setting. Political or otherwise.
Diop: So, you’re saying that she has no right to criticize based on her own political record.
Thompson: Essentially, yes. That is to say, she has no political record to speak of.
Diop: Duly noted. Now, in a typical campaign for a Congressional seat, candidates have more time to prepare and plan. Given the circumstances of this race, you’ll have just shy of six months. Do you believe that you are prepared?
Thompson: Yes, I believe so. Of course, there are always events that one cannot plan for, but that is all part of being a politician. However, I’ve spent my life preparing for this; I’ve spent over six years working in politics professionally, and even more time than that prior, ten years, if we’re counting Congressional internships.
Diop: People often say first-time runners for elected positions don’t know what they are getting in to. But you don’t think that applies to you?
Thompson: Not to criticize anyone who has said that, or to imply that I know everything because that is a feat no one can claim. But I do know that I’ve been in politics and around politicians enough to know with a clear head of what I was getting into.
Diop: Your grandmother beat Naomi Young’s father in the 2008 Presidential election. Would you say there is a bit of rivalry between your two families?
Thompson: I wouldn’t exactly say there is a rivalry, no. In fact, the circumstances of this campaign were a complete surprise. I wasn’t aware Naomi was in the running until after I’d already filed my campaign forms. [coy smile] Would I deny that our family dynamic is completely irrelevant to the race? Probably not.
Diop: Do you believe that having your grandmother – who has gone on record already to state her support for your campaign – will give you the upper hand?
Thompson: I can’t speak as to what is on voters’ minds so early in the campaign. I can say that I greatly respect and admire my grandmother and all of the work she has done for the country. And that while anyone who shares my thoughts on my grandmother certainly wouldn’t be led astray by voting for me, I am not running on my grandmother’s platform. I am running as my own person.
Diop: And who exactly are you? What is the platform you are running on, as your own person?
Thompson: My platform is very much rooted in the work that I am already doing and that I will continue to do. My work is to further address the plight of the people of this city. My role in the Mayor’s office has been to work closely with homeless shelters, food banks, hospitals, and youth organizations in order to provide more stable environments for those in need. I think that it can be easily forgotten, in this game of politics, that the reason we are here is to serve the people. I’m running for the House to take the work I’ve been doing and magnify it to a greater scale.
Diop: All right. Thank you for your time, Charlotte. It’s been nice to catch up with you.
Thompson: It has been lovely to talk with you, Imani.
An informal debate between Thompson and Young will take place in just under two months, on December 22nd, on C-SPAN.
Charlotte sighed lightly as she dropped the news article down onto the living room table, a small smirk pulling at her mouth. Her first official interview.
It had been three weeks, since she’d announced her plans to run for the seat, and she had already hit the ground running.
As she’d said in her interview, she wasn’t at all surprised by the magnitude of what she’d gotten herself into. She’d known how much work this was going to be, and not just in a theoretical sense; maybe she had never run for office before, but she’d seen campaigns like her grandmother’s and worked on enough of them through college that it would be impossible for her to be going in blind.
But knowing what would be expected of her and experiencing it all firsthand were two different things.
The workload alone was exhausting. Her role as the Deputy Mayor was already a full-time job; more than that, actually, if she ever wanted to get anything done. Now, she was at the forefront of her campaign, going head-to-head with Naomi Young, working to secure votes and strengthen relationships both in and out of the mayor’s office, working to schedule interviews, and when she wasn’t actively working, her mind was strategizing.
She’d been getting less than seven hours of sleep a night before campaigning; she was getting even less now.
But something must really be wrong with her – or very right, given her chosen life – because in spite of the pressure and the stress and the lack of sleep . . . she felt like she was thriving.
She got a rush of adrenaline whenever something new happened in the campaign, even when she’d seen that Naomi had gone on the record a few days ago, discussing her “youthful lack of experience.” It was maddening, but thrilling in a way that fewer things were.
It was good to have that confirmation that she was in the right profession.
She sighed again, this time with some slight agitation, when her phone buzzed with a text. The only downside she could think of was that the publishing of the interview had also meant that her phone had been ridiculously busy all day. And not with actually relevant political matters either, but just people she knew who had seen it.
It was good, of course, the interest she was already gaining, and she was grateful and flattered by the support she was being shown. However, it also was irritating when she’d been trying to actually get work done at the office.
Her agitation faded, though, when she looked down to see that it was from Sutton. And it was entirely unrelated to her interview.
Sutton – 6:13PM
Okay, I’ve picked up the food, and I’m on my way.
Charlotte – 6:15PM
The door will be open, darling.
She quickly wrote back, a pleased smile working its way over her face. In the last few weeks, she’d seen Sutton four more times for coffee, and each of those times was simultaneously like an entirely new experience but simultaneously like spending time with someone she knew very well.
It was an interesting paradox, and Charlotte felt it mirrored the same one that Sutton herself presented. She was beautiful – clearly – yet, she was so easily flustered. And flirting could make her blush darker than her hair, yet she had those sassy, sarcastic moments that caught Charlotte off-guard every time.
She was both intelligent and naïve, awkward and bold, and Charlotte was very, very much enjoying it.
Tonight, for the first time, Sutton was coming to her apartment for dinner and
a movie. It had been Sutton’s idea; one of those bold moments, where she seemed to speak before she could let herself think it through – Charlotte very much enjoyed those moments. They both amused her and made Sutton that much more endearing, because those blue eyes would get so big, like Sutton couldn’t believe she said what she’d said.
They’d been leaving the café down the street from City Hall, where they’d taken to meeting as Sutton was keen to avoid Regan whenever they hung out – which was also entertaining in and of itself – and Charlotte had finished commenting that she was feeling a bit of the stress of everything she had to do. Which had prompted Sutton to suggest this movie night as a way to “de-stress.”
Even now, Charlotte shook her head, with a light laugh at the memory. Adorable Sutton Spencer, offering to help Charlotte de-stress . . . with dinner and a movie.
If anyone would have told her a few months ago that she would be having a beautiful woman over to her apartment, for dinner and a movie and nothing else, and that she would be looking forward to it, she would have laughed.
Yet, here she was.
She spun on her heel, smile still on her face, when she heard the door to her apartment open and then close rapidly. Eyebrows wrinkling in confusion, she looked down to see that Sutton had only texted her minutes ago, before she called out, “You got here quickly.”
And honestly, she was a little surprised that Sutton had let herself in so confidently.
But rather than see Sutton walk around the corner and into the living room, she was greeted with the quizzical smile of her brother. “Did Dean text you that I was coming over?”
“No. What are you doing here?” She folded her arms, lifting her eyebrows at him in the same way she’d always done when she was displeased with him.
Not that she usually minded a drop-in visit from Caleb but he knew she preferred at least a phone call beforehand.
Her brother opened his mouth in mock offense. “You sound so cold! To me, your closest brother.” When she rolled her eyes, he dropped the act, “Well, I was hoping that you wouldn’t be home yet. Don’t you usually have dinner with the old battleax on Mondays?”