Those Who Wait

by Haley Cass

  Drawing her knees up to her chest, she rested her cheek against them and unlocked her phone.

  She skimmed over the group chat with her siblings, where a long conversation had taken place involving the fact that Oliver and his groomsmen – including Lucas and Ethan – had completed the dance that he was going to be performing as a surprise at the wedding. Oliver had told her about it a couple of months ago, jokingly blaming her because, “She never would be teasing me about my dance skills if you hadn’t told her I practiced all your ballroom dancing lessons with you when we were kids!”

  That feeling of warmth faded when she scrolled a bit lower to Regan’s messages.

  Regan – 10:44PM

  Am I gonna see you when I get home from work?

  I know you said you were working on a project

  with Emma, but the project will still be there in

  the morning, after a good night’s sleep in your

  own bed!

  Regan – 11:21PM

  Okay, coming home during the day while I was

  at work and leaving me a note there about not

  coming home again tonight was sneaky

  Regan – 11:40PM

  I know it’s only been a couple of days but I’m

  lonely without you :’(

  Regan – 11:44PM

  You’re not mad at me, right? I returned the

  boots I borrowed from youuuu

  Regan – 11:46PM

  No, you’d have told me

  Regan – 11:48PM

  Goodnight, princess!

  Regan – 9:01AM

  Praise jesus, I have the day off! And I

  did your laundry with mine & cleaned your

  room. I hope you’re coming home today, I

  miss your beautiful face

  The knots in her stomach coiled so tightly she thought she was going to be sick. This was precisely why she hadn’t looked at Regan’s messages when she’d gotten them last night.

  She already felt guilty about avoiding Regan for the last few days just because . . . God, she didn’t want to hear everything Regan would say about Charlotte. She didn’t want to hear that Regan had known all along what Sutton had refused to believe.

  That was without even touching on the topic of the internship.

  How was she supposed to tell Regan? Who missed her enough after two days to do her laundry for her, a chore she detested. Who trusted that no matter what was going on, Sutton would have already told her.

  When she hadn’t told her that she’d applied for a program that would mean she would be moving out of their apartment for months. Moving to another country, at that. And, why? Because she had wanted something for herself? Because she hadn’t believed she would be getting in, so why even share it?

  Pressing her forehead tightly against her knees, she bit at the inside of her cheek. Regardless of whatever Regan was going to say about Charlotte, she had to go home. And she definitely had to tell her about the internship.

  It was quite possible she deserved to be told off, after all.

  Sutton – 10:51AM

  I’ll be home today. I promise.

  She couldn’t put it off anymore. Heart in her throat, she pulled up the one message thread she had simultaneously wanted to avoid but had been unable to not look at in the last few nights.

  From the first night, right after the not-breakup was:

  Charlotte – 2:09AM

  I still want to be your friend, Sutton. I care so

  incredibly much about you. So much. So . . . much.

  And I know there’s still some more to talk about, if

  you wanted to.

  And the following night:

  Charlotte – 2:54AM

  Please let me know whenever you’re ready to

  talk. I’m sorry.

  She’d tried to write back to that one, even as her throat felt like it was closing on her. Was she sorry for breaking Sutton’s heart? Sorry for “blurring their lines” as she’d said that night? Sorry for not loving Sutton the way Sutton loved her? Sorry for thinking that Sutton could just so easily fall back into being only her friend when they were so much more?

  I’m not ready to talk now, seeing you would break me.

  Do you know I love you?

  I don’t want you to be sorry, I want you to want me.

  She couldn’t say any of that.

  Her teeth dug in deep to her bottom lip as she tried to gather herself, staring at the messages.

  Charlotte didn’t want to be with her. It had been days and she hadn’t come to her and said she’d made a mistake. She wasn’t going to reassure Sutton that she wasn’t alone in this.

  And she had to face that.

  Sutton – 11:02AM

  Hey . . . do you want

  Hi Charlotte, what

  I’m sorry I’ve been avoiding

  Can we talk?

  She was nervous. She was nervous, about texting Charlotte, when only three days ago, it was just second nature.

  Charlotte – 11:03AM

  Where and when?

  ***

  Two hours later she walked into The Grind. It was nowhere near as good as Topped Off, but it wasn’t near Sutton’s apartment or college, and that was why she’d chosen it.

  She hadn’t wanted to see Charlotte anywhere that it would be just the two of them. Sutton was hoping that she would be able to keep it together, but she knew if they met privately – if Charlotte could just be Charlotte and do something like reach out and stroke her cheek – Sutton would have no chance of not being a sobbing mess.

  There weren’t even good odds that she would be able to keep herself together now.

  But The Grind also didn’t hit peak traffic until the evening, after the businesses nearby closed for the day. It was the only relief she had as she stepped into the café, seeing that there were only two occupied tables and that they were both near one another at the front of the shop.

  Her shoulders were so tense, she could barely roll them to try to relax, and she couldn’t remember the last time she’d been dreading something so much.

  She was prepared to hear Charlotte list everything that was truly wrong with her – in a nice way, because she still couldn’t fathom Charlotte being cruelly unkind – or for Charlotte to confront the fact that Sutton was invested in them for real. To hear Charlotte say that no, in spite of all of Sutton’s thoughts that they were on the same page, she never did have more than friend feelings and an attraction back. That she never would.

  But she thought maybe she had to hear those things to have any chance of letting this go.

  She was at least glad that she’d gotten here before Charlotte. It gave her time to settle in and –

  “Sutton?”

  She spun around and didn’t know why she was surprised to see Alia, wavy hair falling down her back, to-go cup in hand. After all, the only time she’d been here, the only reason she knew it existed, was because they’d come here the first time they’d hung out.

  “Long time, no see.” Alia’s smile was bright as she reached out to squeeze Sutton’s hand.

  She flushed; she’d last seen Alia right before going home for the holidays, and despite having been back for a month, hadn’t texted her since. “I – yeah, I’m sorry.”

  Alia waved her off. “Don’t be silly. We’ve both been busy. The real question is, what are you doing here? You were all, ‘Topped Off has better tea selections.’”

  “It does! But I –” wanted to have a devastating kind-of breakup talk in public to avoid less of an emotional breakdown? “Wanted something different today.”

  She attempted to grin, but even she knew it was more like a grimace.

  Alia’s eyes narrowed. “Don’t take this the wrong way, but are you okay? You don’t look. . . great.”

  Ugh, God. Now she felt herself blush and she ducked her head, pointedly looking at the floor for a moment. She hadn’t slept all that well in the last few nights, and she knew that despite weari
ng her glasses to try to cover up the bags under her eyes, they were still alarmingly present. Plus, she hadn’t stomached food all that well, either, and – well, she knew she wasn’t looking anywhere near her best.

  Or even anywhere near her mediocre.

  “I’m fine.” She could hear how weak her own assurance was; if she couldn’t even lie to a new friend like Alia, it confirmed that her avoiding Regan and her family for the last few days had been for the best.

  “Is it because of Charlotte, and what happened a few days ago?”

  She choked on air, eyes wide as she looked around reflexively. “I – what? No? Why would you think it has anything to do with Charlotte?”

  She’d never mentioned Charlotte’s name to Alia; she was positive of that much. Not in any capacity that would out Charlotte or reveal that she was the one Sutton was sleeping with.

  Alia slanted an incredulous eyebrow. “Sutton, please. I’m not blind. And I watched the debate last week when she straight up denied being romantically involved with anyone.” She grimaced, “I was going to text you but . . . I didn’t know what to say about it. I just figure, you know, having your girlfriend deny your whole relationship on television like that had to hurt.”

  She spoke softly, her tone sensitive, and Sutton still couldn’t quell her anxiety.

  “No.”

  She’d forgotten about that. Hadn’t even registered it at the time. It was exactly the response she had known Charlotte would give. She knew about her worries when it came to coming out. But it was painful now. To think that it wasn’t just a rejection or fear of coming out, but also a rejection of her. An outright statement that she did not have feelings for her.

  She closed her eyes against these stupid tears that stung her eyes again, wanting so badly to fall. To think about how stupid she’d been when the signs were all there in front of her face, and she had still been hopeful that things were changing.

  “No. We aren’t . . .” Well, they weren’t much of anything now. She took a deep breath. “We aren’t girlfriends. We never have been.”

  The truth of it hurt, another notch on the vice that had been wrapped around her heart. But more than that, she felt an urgency to make sure Alia believed her.

  It didn’t work, that much was clear, as there was skepticism written all over her face. “But you were something.”

  She knew that this underlying panic she was feeling was entirely for Charlotte’s sake, and despite this utter distress she’d been feeling in the last few days, she couldn’t shake it.

  “No,” she denied, firmly, straightening her shoulders in a way she’d seen Charlotte do in the past that always seemed to make her look in control. “We’re just friends.”

  “Sutton. I know the truth. I know Charlotte was the friend you had something going on with.”

  She wanted to deny it more, but she also wanted to know how exactly Alia knew, and what she’d done to give it away. “How?”

  Alia looked sympathetic and she reached out again, her free hand cupping Sutton’s warmly. “I’m not going to out her or anything. I wouldn’t do that.”

  Both the touch and the words soothed newly frayed nerves. She wasn’t sure how much more she could take today and Charlotte wasn’t even there yet.

  “And, just so you know, you weren’t the one who gave it away,” Alia murmured, holding eye contact as she sipped at her coffee, her other hand still lightly holding Sutton’s.

  She couldn’t help but squeeze it now, glancing around again as if anyone was even near them, let alone interested in what they would be saying. “I wasn’t? Who was?”

  Dark eyes blinked at her slowly, seeming surprised. “Well, I sort of put it together a while ago. I saw Charlotte coming up to your place when I was leaving once.” She sighed. “Then I started following along a bit in the election. And, if you know what to look for, it was kind of obvious.”

  Obvious?

  They were obvious? How were they obvious? She hadn’t even thought of that. Then again, she didn’t know that anyone would even be looking into her and Charlotte’s relationship.

  She had to swallow back the thousand questions that she had, though. Alia wasn’t the person who could give her the answers.

  “Um, whatever you thought you knew. . .” That she and Charlotte were girlfriends. “We’re not, anymore.”

  Alia gave her a sad smile. “Sorry.” Another hand squeeze. “You have my number.”

  “I’m, uh, I don’t think I’m ready for –”

  “Not like that,” Alia laughed, her smile reassuring. “Just, don’t be a stranger. We haven’t hung out in a while and I’d like to. Plus, if anyone in your life, as far as I know, can relate to not being with the woman you want to be with, it’s me.”

  Taking a moment to let the offer sink in, she found herself nodding. She definitely didn’t think she’d be able to try to date anyone yet, but it could be nice. Having another friend – just a friend this time – who could relate to this side of her.

  “That sounds good.” Blowing out a deep breath, Sutton’s gaze darted to the clock on the wall behind the counter, and her nerves jangled just knowing that Charlotte was going to be there any second. “I’m, um, I don’t mean to be rude, but I’m meeting –”

  She cut herself off, hardly managing to stop herself from yelping before standing completely frozen. Alia used the hold she had on Sutton’s hand to pull herself in close and tug Sutton in, her breath washing over Sutton’s skin. She pressed her lips to Sutton’s cheek, close enough to just barely miss brushing her lips.

  She stood ramrod straight as she gave Alia a look of utter confusion from the corner of her eye. Perhaps cheek kisses weren’t unnatural, but they’d never exchanged them. And the last time she’d had someone so deliberately kiss her on the cheek like that, it had been Charlotte.

  The feeling was painfully not the same.

  Alia smirked. “Trust me, you’ll see.” With a stroke of her thumb over the back of Sutton’s hand, she let go. “Text me, Sutton Spencer. And who knows? Maybe eventually it can be like that.”

  Utterly thrown by the abrupt change in their encounter, she turned to watch Alia go as she walked by her . . . only for her eyes to land on Charlotte.

  Well. She got it now.

  Alia didn’t pause, just walked right by Charlotte, who stood just a step inside the café.

  It had only been a few days since she’d seen her, but it felt like a lifetime.

  How did it feel like simultaneously she was breathless with the same feeling she always got when she saw her – that Charlotte is so incredibly beautiful breathless – and with that feeling like she was being kicked in the stomach all over again?

  She was wearing her white jacket, that fell mid-thigh, leaving only a few inches of her dress for the day uncovered, her hair was as perfectly styled as always, and she looked perfect.

  She turned sharply away when she felt the tears well up.

  She felt more than saw Charlotte approach – slowly, hesitantly, and so very un-Charlotte-like. But at least she’d walked over, because Sutton didn’t think she could have bridged the gap.

  Blinking quickly to clear her tears, she forced herself to take in a deep breath through her nose. She could do this. She had to do this.

  “Hi.”

  Charlotte stared straight ahead, eyes on the menu behind the counter, and her face was carefully blank. It was a look Sutton had seen before, but never toward her. It hurt.

  “Hi,” Charlotte echoed, her voice soft, and she turned just enough to look at Sutton again.

  That’s when she realized, knowing she was staring at Charlotte and unable to stop, that she was trying to make her face carefully blank but wasn’t quite succeeding.

  Just there, at the edges of her lips, her face was drawn tighter – but it was the way she’d looked that time at her grandmother’s party. When she’d been jealous.

  She didn’t comment on Alia at all, though. She would have commented on it, before. Maybe not e
ven necessarily saying she was jealous, but she would have said or done something.

  She hated knowing that now.

  Blue eyes drew up from where they’d settled on Charlotte’s lips. Lips that she knew. Their softness, their firmness, their taste, the way they felt moving down her body – up to her eyes.

  Those wondrously big, doe eyes that could be softer than a marshmallow or hard as stone. Sutton didn’t know what Charlotte wanted them to be like right now, but she knew that she’d never seen Charlotte look so . . . wanting.

  It wasn’t sexy-wanting, but something entirely different. The way Sutton thought they might look at three in the morning when Charlotte was sending apology texts.

  But if she was going to look at Sutton like that, then just why?

  “I’m going to grab a table.” As though there weren’t twenty open tables compared to the two taken ones.

  She felt Charlotte’s eyes on her the whole time she walked to the back corner of the café but didn’t let herself turn around. How was she supposed to look at Charlotte when she was giving her that look? How was Sutton supposed to do anything but love her?

  She didn’t know.

  She didn’t know anything, clearly, which was why she was here in this mess.

  It felt like she’d barely had a second to try to gather herself before Charlotte sat across from her, sliding a cup across the table. “It’s chamomile. I thought you’d want it . . . unless you already had a cup before I got here.”

  “I didn’t.”

  Her hands were already wrapping around the warm mug as her stomach dipped. Of course Charlotte got her the tea she drank when she was stressed or hadn’t been sleeping.

  Neither of them took a sip and she felt fidgety. She wished she could touch Charlotte’s hand and take some comfort in one of the simple touches that they’d always had between them, even before sleeping together.

  After a few long moments of staring, Sutton realized that no, Charlotte didn’t look perfect. Despite what she’d originally thought, she could see how she was wearing more makeup than was typical, the bags under her eyes barely concealed as she looked down at her coffee.

  But it didn’t make her feel any better. In fact, it just made her ache a bit more, knowing that everything between them was making her miserable too.