by Haley Cass
Charlotte took a sip of her coffee. “Well, it’s not as good as Topped Off.” Her eyes slid to Sutton’s above her cup. “But I haven’t been there in a few days.”
The wrath of Regan was unspoken between them.
“Yeah. Regan doesn’t know. About anything. I haven’t been home much.”
Charlotte was giving her a look of such consternation that Sutton couldn’t tell exactly what she wanted to say, only that there were many things on her mind.
The last thing she wanted right now was for Charlotte to apologize. She didn’t want Charlotte to feel pity. She wanted Charlotte to explain why she kept giving her that look – the same one she wore when she cupped Sutton’s jaw and stroked her cheek like she was something to be cherished – if she wanted their intimacy to be over with.
The tea burned in her throat as she gathered all of her courage to push out the words. “I need to know. Was it because of our – were we too . . . obvious?”
It wasn’t something she’d thought of until only minutes ago with Alia, but it was the only thing that made sense.
“Sutton –”
“You said there was more to talk about,” she pushed, and it was surprisingly easy to do. Because she’d just had all of these questions for days, haunting her.
“There is.” She hedged, her jaw set in a hard line. “But I just don’t . . .” She pinched the bridge of her nose for a moment, before she looked up and trailed her eyes over the entire café, seeming on edge. “Nothing I say is going to make it easier, Sutton.”
There was a pleading tone in her voice that nearly broke her. It was just so not Charlotte to sound like that.
“The truth.” She couldn’t care to hide her desperation. “I just want you to tell me the truth. You said it wasn’t me, wasn’t my fault –”
“It’s not,” her voice was like steel as she cut Sutton off.
“Then why? Why end what’s between us if I didn’t do anything?”
Charlotte took another deep breath, rolling her tense shoulders. “Because you were right. We were becoming too obvious.”
She didn’t know why she had expected that to make her feel better. Because she was proud to have Charlotte next to her, in any capacity. As her friend, as a lover, and everything in between. But the way Charlotte said it, like it was shameful or vile that they were obviously important to one another – it stung.
She tried to wipe at her eyes as surreptitiously as she could.
Charlotte’s shoulders fell, as if holding the weight of the world. “And because after my debate, I found out that Naomi also thinks we were being too obvious. Because she knows that we’re –” She took a sharp breath. “That we were more than friends, and threatened to out us. She isn’t making idle threats; she has pictures of us together. Nothing indecent,” she quickly assured, as Sutton’s heart leapt into her throat at the implication. “She might not have anything now, but she is right that one day she would.”
It was so strange to hear the defeat in her voice, to note how Charlotte resolutely didn’t make eye contact, as she stared intently at the table between them and Sutton stared at her.
It made her skin crawl a little bit, just imagining the threat, and her mind reeled for a few seconds as she sagged back into her chair.
Her hand twitched, wanting to reach for her. She wanted so badly to reach across the table now and just hold Charlotte’s hand. For her to know that Sutton realized how scared she must have been in that moment, for her to know that she wasn’t alone.
As nauseous as it made her to think about the fact that Naomi Young had pictures of her – of her and Charlotte, together – she realized just how much more scared and furious and sickened it would make Charlotte feel.
Charlotte finally lifted her gaze to meet Sutton’s, eyes big and pleading. “I want you to know, please know, that this isn’t easy for me. But I’m doing what’s best. For both of us.”
The hand she’d been bringing toward Charlotte’s fell abruptly to the table, her stomach clenching painfully. And for the first time in days, it wasn’t from sadness or dejection but in sheer anger.
“You don’t get to decide what’s best for me.”
Sutton may be patient to a fault and she knew that about herself, but she’d had her choices made for her in relationships too much to ever let that happen again. She’d always assumed Charlotte understood that. Charlotte had at least acted like she did.
“You don’t get to decide what is best for me, because you don’t know what’s best for me.” If she did, she would have known that being left wondering what was wrong with her that made it so easy for someone to not reciprocate her feelings, was not what was best. “Don’t you remember the rules?”
Because she remembered explicitly adding onto them not to make assumptions.
“Don’t you remember the rules?” Charlotte shot back, and whatever façade she’d been managing to keep up fell completely away in that moment. For the first time, Sutton could see all of the pain she was feeling was mirrored right back.
It was raw and real and it stole whatever response she had right from her.
“You wrote them! You came to me, this was your idea, and you left me with this piece of paper with the agreements that I’ve been staring at for days hoping that you really meant what you said. You’re the one who wrote on there that we were friends. That we put that first,” Charlotte’s palm slammed onto the table, the same fire in her words, before she curled it into a tight fist. “And I’ve been terrified that I’m losing you for good. I need to know that we really are friends, Sutton. That I’m not going to lose you.”
Her voice wavered, her typically so-controlled Southern accent slipping to prominence, and it was that vulnerability that cracked through her anger. That wrapped right around her heart, squeezing so tight, leaving her speechless.
Because Charlotte was right. This had been Sutton’s idea. She had come up with the rules. She had propositioned Charlotte, and insisted that they be friends first and foremost.
And the sudden guilt she felt, about how she couldn’t tell Charlotte that they would come out of this as friends sank like a pit in her stomach. It scared her and she stared at Charlotte, unable to speak even as Charlotte’s anxious expression begged for the guarantee she couldn’t give.
“Why weren’t you just honest with me?” She asked instead, her voice a hoarse whisper. “Why didn’t you just tell me it was because of Naomi and the pictures?”
Charlotte’s face crumpled at her deflection and she looked away. “Would it have made a difference? The end result is the same.”
“What if it didn’t have to be?” Now she was pleading, but she couldn’t help it. Her hands wrapped tightly around her still almost full-mug. “We could have kept going the same way. Instead of both of us being unhappy, we could have figured –”
“You keep saying I can’t choose what’s right for you, but Sutton, please listen to yourself!” Charlotte swiftly looked back at her and Sutton nearly jumped back at the intensity. She wasn’t angry, she realized, but her voice was begging. “How would it have worked? I win this election and we completely dial back every public interaction we ever have?”
“For now, yes. It would have worked. Instead of just choosing to – to end everything at the drop of a hat. And I’ve never asked you for anything in public.”
It wasn’t ideal, of course, but their private moments, the ones with just them, were enough. They had been more than enough for Sutton. For the most part.
“It wasn’t going to keep working, though.” Her tone was gentler now as she leaned in, staring into Sutton’s eyes. “Is that really what you want? To be my secret sex friend? Until when? When does that end? Were we just supposed to keep it going until everything blew up?”
There was this hopelessness about her, reflecting in those beautiful eyes that was so unfamiliar to see that it was unsettling.
It’s blowing up right now! Her mind yelled, and she could feel the backs of her eyes b
urn with tears that demanded to be shed. She didn’t realize they’d started falling until she looked down at the table and saw them land on her sleeve.
How did Charlotte not realize? How did she not see that no, Sutton didn’t want to be her secret sex friend forever? That she didn’t want to be her secret sex friend right now, but that there was more here. That there was so much between them, that Sutton would be willing to wait out the storm.
“Please,” Charlotte’s voice was desperate, and Sutton could see her knuckles turn white with her grip around her coffee cup. She instinctively knew that Charlotte wanted to reach out to her and was holding herself back. “Tell me what to do. Tell me what you want. We can take some time apart and get things under control or –”
“I want you.” She couldn’t stop herself from saying the words even if she wanted to, and in that moment everything in the world stopped.
Because she hadn’t admitted that out loud to Charlotte. Never before had she crossed that line so explicitly, but there it was. “I don’t want to take time apart. I just want you.”
She bit so hard at her lip she was worried she might break through the skin as she wiped at her eyes with her hands, but she didn’t stop looking at Charlotte. Couldn’t stop looking at her, while her heart thundered in her chest.
Charlotte was frozen. Giving Sutton a look that was so . . . full. That was the only way to describe it. That there was so much going on in one single look, it could have filled a novel.
“I . . .” Charlotte’s hands shook from where they were on the table, before she dropped them into her lap and clasped them together tightly. As if that would give Charlotte the control Sutton knew she always wanted.
Despite this burning rejection, there was a new strength inside her from the release of those words. It was freeing, to finally stop herself from holding back that truth.
“You know what I want. What do you want, Charlotte? Because I really just don’t know.”
Charlotte looked almost offended. Her voice shook, “You know what I want. I wanted to end our arrangement before it crashed and burned too far for us to come out of it with a friendship intact.” She drew both of her hands, still shaking, through her hair, tension rolling off of her in waves so apparent she was surprised the café didn’t tumble down with them.
Her eyes darted around the café, seeming unsure of where exactly to look, before landing on Sutton again, and they glittered with tears. “I want you to be in my life, because my life is better with you in it.”
For one moment, everything else fell away to the background. Charlotte wanted her, too. And she was admitting it, and Sutton felt like she had that one shining pocket of hope shining brighter than she’d allowed it to in days.
Before Charlotte hastily wiped at her eyes. “I want you, too, Sutton. But I just can’t . . . do it in the same way you want me.”
“You can’t or you won’t,” she challenged, not bothering to wipe at the tear tracks she could feel on her cheeks. That small hope was dashed. She stared at Charlotte, needing the answer.
“I’m not the same as you are,” Charlotte inhaled deeply, her breath trembling and Sutton hated that she wanted to comfort her even now. “I’m not – I don’t have this natural romantic side who wants those things you want. I’m not this person who just has feelings for someone. And I’m certainly not someone who wants to lead on someone that I care about or make any of those promises. I’m not that person.”
Sutton could only stare.
How did Charlotte not see that she already was that person? She thought she wasn’t, but she was. All of those times they were together where Charlotte was romantic. Where she would stroke her fingertips over Sutton’s back or jaw or skim them through her hair and just watch her. Where she would encourage Sutton to do everything, where she was so thoughtful even without trying?
How did Charlotte not see the way she’d made implicit promises with touches and looks and comments?
“You could be that person,” she stressed, this utter need inside of her demanding that Charlotte just see the way things could be, and how easy it could be. How easy it already was.
Charlotte seemed, for once, completely and utterly out of her depth. “I can’t be,” she emphasized, staring back for long, searching moments. Her posture slowly corrected, her hands gripping at her thighs. “I’m not ready for that, Sutton. And neither is my career.”
God, Sutton remembered the first time they had ever made plans to hang out in person. The way Charlotte had described her ambitions and what she was willing to do to make them come true. And it had seemed lonely to her then, but it seemed impossible to her now.
“So, your career is just everything, then?” She could hear her own disbelief, but – but she couldn’t understand it.
Careers were important, life goals were important. Her parents, her siblings, they had goals and dedication, and she understood that. But . . .
“You knew that about me before we ever even met face to face,” Charlotte shot back, eyes narrowed, as if she couldn’t believe what she was hearing. “I’ve never hidden who I am or what I want. Not from you.”
“And nothing has ever made you question yourself? Nothing has ever been worth a little risk?” Her throat felt like it was on fire with the question, her nerves jumping with anticipation of the answer.
Not even me? sat unspoken between them. Did Charlotte give any thought to her in this? Did she even contemplate for a second that she was breaking both of their hearts? Did she think at all about the fact that Sutton wouldn’t ever demand her to come out before she was ready, that she wanted to just be there for her through it all?
Did she give any thought that maybe Sutton, maybe they, could be worth it?
“Nothing has ever been worth that risk,” Charlotte confirmed. The words were little more than a whisper but they were absolute.
All she could do was stare at Charlotte as blood rushed in her ears. She wasn’t worth the risk, and it burned. As though everything inside her was going up in flames.
“I just want everything to go back to the way it was,” Charlotte cradled her head in her hands, her voice anguished.
She could still only stare.
How could Charlotte expect them to be friends, now? After everything.
“I don’t think it can.” Her words even stung herself.
Because, God, she didn’t want to say goodbye to Charlotte either. She wanted to hold on, to cling, desperately.
It seemed that whatever had been holding Charlotte together fell completely away. Her eyes filled with tears and spilled over, as she sniffled – a sound Sutton would never have imagined hearing from Charlotte, let alone in public.
“Maybe not right now,” Charlotte asserted, her voice was thin and reedy, “But in . . . a couple of months. We can go back to being friends.”
She sounded so hopeful, as if the idea alone helped soothe her pain. Which was baffling to Sutton, because that idea just made her hurt even more.
“How can we? I don’t think we were ever friends.” The realization fell over her, and she felt like suddenly she was seeing the light. Because if the basis of this was friendship, Sutton wouldn’t be feeling like this was killing her.
Charlotte whipped her head up, looking poleaxed, sounding wounded, “How could you even say that? You’re the closest friend I’ve ever had. Even before – everything.”
Sutton scrubbed her hands over her face, seeing their entire relationship with new eyes. “How were we ever just friends? We met on a dating app!” She laughed, an incredulous, hollow sound that she didn’t even recognize. “There was this attraction the whole time between us, you said it yourself. And there were feelings in the beginning, too.”
Charlotte didn’t say anything to that. Instead, she just stared at Sutton, blinking slowly, as if she was still trying to wrap her head around Sutton declaring that they were never just friends.
When she continued to be silent, the pain dug even deeper into her chest – j
ust one more thing she was alone in, then. “Fine, then, I guess it was only me who had feelings in the beginning. Great,” she scoffed, before it caught on a sob, and she didn’t know if she had ever felt so utterly angry and miserable in equal measure. “But I know I have them now.”
She set both of her hands on the table in front of her, and she knew, she could feel in her stomach this certainty that this was it. That it was now or never, and the words felt so heavy they scraped her throat as they fell from her lips. “I can’t be your friend, because I’m in love with you.”
A dead silence fell between them for a few moments and Sutton had never before known what it really meant to hang yourself out to dry but now she did.
Charlotte stared at her, eyes wide. “Sutton,” her voice just above a breath, so full of pain and warmth, and it was the warmth that broke her.
But she wasn’t worth any risk to Charlotte’s career, because apparently nothing was, not even this connection they’d built, and she couldn’t do it anymore.
She couldn’t sit here, so full of this painful love for Charlotte, who was still just staring at her.
She stood up, entire body shaking as she stared down at Charlotte. “I’m in love with you and that’s not just going to go away because we aren’t sleeping together. I think . . . I think maybe you love me, too. Or you could, and you’re just too scared to do anything about it.”
Everything inside of her demanded she get out of there as fast as she could, because even saying those words, confessing it felt like too much. But she waited for long, torturous moments, staring at Charlotte and begging her to just say yes. To say that Sutton wasn’t wrong.
Charlotte took a deep, shuddering breath, and looked away.
That was the answer, then.
She didn’t let herself look back at Charlotte, not once, no matter how much the voice inside of her wanted so badly for Charlotte to get up and chase her. She wanted it, but unlike a few days ago, she no longer had any hope. The band-aid was completely gone.
And she was angry.
The slightly chilly air whipped around her, and did nothing to soothe the way her blood pounded through her veins or how she couldn’t hear anything over the rushing in her ears.