by P. M. Briede
His eyes squinted as he examined me. “Alright, I won’t push you. Would you mind terribly though if I came in and had a cup or two of coffee before I head home? I’m tired myself and I think they’d help ensure that I make it there safe. You do want me to make it home safe, don’t you?” His face took on such a mischievous expression that I couldn’t help but laugh. He so looked like the troublesome boy I’d grown up with.
As I opened the door, I consented. “Of course you can come in. Domum mean, est vestra mansio.”
“Really Charlotte, Latin?”
“I’m impressed that you remembered enough to know what I’m saying.”
We walked into the house, and he laughed as he headed to the kitchen. “Don’t give me so much credit. I have no idea what you’re saying. I just know you and knew you’d be speaking Latin. Do you want a cup of coffee?”
I hollered down as I was already headed up the stairs. “No coffee, thank you. I’ll be down in a moment. I’m going to change first.”
With my pajamas on, nothing that would be considered unacceptable, I returned downstairs. I found Wesley on the couch in the den flipping through the modern art book which had been on my coffee table. “Read anything interesting?”
Setting the book back on the table, he looked up and smiled. “Nah. You know me, I just like to look at the pictures.”
I plopped down on the couch next to him, giggling. “Well then, that’s the perfect book for you. It’s nothing but pictures.”
“You’ve got me there. Got anything a man would read?” He picked up his coffee and took a sip.
I arched an eyebrow and shook my head. “That depends, where do the man’s interests lie?”
His countenance immediately changed from playful to sensual. Flabbergasted at how quickly that had happened, I pulled my legs up onto the couch and hugged them to my chest. I cocked my head to the side to rest my chin on my knees. I hoped the move would dampen his passion but instead it seemed to fan his fire. His eyes flashed and then burned; a blush stole across his cheeks. He carefully set his coffee cup on the table and pulled his leg up onto the couch as well, so he was better angled to face me. When he finally spoke, his voice was rough. “I think you know exactly where the man’s interests lie. The question now is, have you figured out the lady’s?”
Unable to continue to hold his gaze, I closed my eyes and shrugged. I could feel him moving towards me on the couch. “Let me help you figure it out, Charlotte.” His breathy voice seemed to float into my subconscious. His fingers gently grazed across the backs of mine before intertwining them to pull them from my legs. Having taken away my own sight, I was more aware of his tortured breathing, more aware of his touch. My pulse racing, I realized my mistake too late when an involuntarily whimper escaped as his breath and lips kissed the inside of my wrist. “Open your eyes.” Sighing, I complied and so wish I hadn’t.
I immediately got lost in the deep pools of passion that used to be his eyes. “Wesley.” At least that’s what I tried to say in a way that would slow this down. Instead, an incomprehensible moan slipped through my lips as his hand slipped down my arm until it reached my elbow, pulling until I was sitting on my feet with my legs folded in front of me. I don’t think that was exactly the position he was going for, but it allowed me to maintain the length of our legs apart. During all of this, his eyes were raking over me. The shift forward caused my hair to fall across my face and shoulders. He brushed it back. His fingers then trailed from the back of my neck forward, sending pleasurable shock waves through my body, causing me to tilt my head away to provide him more access. A guttural, “Charlotte,” sprang from his mouth as he firmly cupped the back of my head and was suddenly drinking in my scent, before following my pulse with feather light kisses.
By this time, I was gripping his shoulder, intent on pushing him away. His kisses were timed so perfectly that I gripped his shirt instead. This time I managed to say his name but in a tone full of need. He pressed his lips to my ear and groaned. “I’m sorry. I know I said I could wait, but I love you so much. I always have.”
The inability to answer his declaration strengthened my resolve to slow this down and give us both time to think rationally. I did love him, but it wasn’t in the same way he loved me. Releasing his shirt, I put my palms on his chest and pushed, fully intending to untangle myself from him. I got as far as face to face. He saw the confusion in my passion-filled eyes. His forehead came to rest against mine. “I don’t expect it to be the same for you. I know we’re still not in the same place, but I had to tell you. I’ve lost out on years with you because I was waiting for the perfect time. I’m not making that mistake again.”
My heart and resolve melted. Why was I fighting this so hard? He wasn’t a stranger. I’d known him all my life. His grip on the back of my neck softened and I felt his arm start to fall away. His breathing was becoming more measured and controlled. I could see the passion that had consumed him just moments earlier be packed away. Panic weaved its way through me. I’d been fighting myself and him since last Sunday and now I was about to be consumed by emptiness.
I re-staked my claim on his shirt and looked under my lashes at him. “I’m not where you are, Wesley,” I shyly offered, “and I am sorry for that. Please don’t think that none of my interests are inclined towards you. I just want to take it slow.” His eyes widened as the truth of what I’d told him sunk in. He smiled, cupped my face, and this time succeeded in meeting my lips with his.
Our first kiss was sweet enough, a simple brush. First one, then two, with curiosity and passion building within me. I could sense the same in him. By the third, the innocence had turned to hunger as he firmly pressed his lips against mine and began to open his mouth to deepen the kiss. I prepared to open myself up to this, parted my lips and then shot back across the couch pressing my palms to my eyes. Unable to fully comprehend what had happened, all I knew was that my head was about to explode, and not from guilt. The flames I saw were not the passionate ones I’d expected. That persistent green fire that had haunted me for the last month was everywhere. Burning and consuming the nothing that was around it. Its heat lapped at my flesh. Its smoke burned my eyes, nose, and throat. Its light blocked everything from my sight. From their depths, a conversation resounded through my head.
“You’re supposed to be managing the target!”
“I’m trying but short of kidnapping I don’t exactly know what you expected. They don’t find me as intimidating as they have before and you waited too long. This failure rests on your shoulders not mine. Plus you seem to forget that I didn’t want to be involved for this exact reason.”
“No!” the first voice bellowed. “You seem to forget that if we fail there may never be another chance, at least for us. You have no more interest in dying that way than I do. So I suggest you start taking more care to at least save your own skin. Like it or not our lives, and theirs, rests on your success!” The voices echoed through my head, and in the background there was a faint and panicked “Charlotte,” that repeated again and again.
I only ever remembered the voices during the fire dreams. Their conversations never made any sense and never remained permanent in my memory once I woke up. “Our plans mean nothing if they don’t carry them out. Whatever the suspicions it’s your responsibility to put them to rest because soon I have to start steering him to what needs to be done. I’ve worked too hard to get where we are to have her keep it from happening. You will do this and you’ll do it now
!”
Chapter 8
When I woke up, the sun was streaming in through the windows. Disoriented, I lifted myself up onto my elbows and glanced around to find myself in bed. The clock told me that it was actually afternoon. As I collapsed back into bed confused I tried to figure out what had happened the night before. Had I really slept the whole morning? How had I gotten to my bed last night? Something had happened that was important. What was it? I was so tired, and I couldn’t focus my thoughts. Every time I tried, all
I could recall was a commanding and sonorous voice demanding that something be done now. Why was it so familiar?
I recalled the one time I have ever been hung over and determined that this must be what’s going on. My mouth was dry and sandy, so I must have had some drinks last night. But I would never drink more than one or two glasses of wine. Still it was the only explanation for the way my thoughts kept slipping through my fingers every time I tried to catch them. The only explanation for why I could come up with only questions and no answers.
I couldn’t spend the rest of the day like this so I threw my hand to the side to open my bedside table drawer and grab the aspirin that was in there. As I fumbled around for the edge, I felt something drift off the table. After taking a couple pills I rolled to the side to pick up whatever had fallen. It was a note from Wesley.
I put you to bed last night; I hope you don’t mind. I recognized the effects of those debilitating headaches you used to get in college. I didn’t know you still got them. I took the door key off your key ring in order to lock up the house. Please call me when you get up.
Love, Wesley
Wesley had been here last night? As recognition dawned, my eyes widened. Wesley had been here last night! He’d kissed me and told me he loved me last night! I re-read the note he had left. He wanted me to call, and he had a key. Falling back into bed, I pulled the covers over my head. What was I going to do? The idea of a phone call was overwhelming right now; there was no way I could see him today.
I put off the call and took a shower. It was a long shower. I tried to wash away the pressure that was building in my chest. When my body finally relaxed, my mind picked that moment to remind me about Olivier’s confession. God, but that felt like weeks ago and not hours. Images raced across my mind as I tried to place our previous encounter. However, try as I might the memory was a mist that would not solidify. I knew it was there, knew it had happened, but I couldn’t conjure up any details about it. All I ever got were his eyes.
Frustrated, I turned off the shower and set about getting dressed. I chose to spend the rest of the day focusing on the charity event in February. With only two months to plan, there was no time to waste. I went downstairs to the kitchen to make a cup of coffee and get a little something to eat. My phone sounded as I walked towards my office. I followed the sound down the hall to find my clutch in the den where Wesley and I had been. There were four missed messages, two calls and a text from Wesley and one call from Paige. There was also a voicemail so I pushed the button to listen to it. It was from Wesley at three in the morning. It just reiterated what his note had said, but he was leaving it in case I didn’t find the note. But when I thought through the timing of the call and that he’d just left my home when he left it, a chill raced down my spine. I realized that the fire headache must have happened at two forty-two in the morning. I don’t know why I was surprised, but it was discomforting to know that I could get the headaches sleeping or waking now and all still at two forty-two.
I stuck my phone back in my clutch and headed back to my office. I sat down, opened my laptop and searched for potential venues, caterers, and students, pouring all my attention into Valentine’s. Whenever Regina reached out to begin planning I wasn’t going to be unprepared. I had just settled on only offering the auditions to the junior class when I heard my name and felt a hand on my shoulder.
I jumped out of my chair with a scream and spun around. “Paige! Are you trying to give me a heart attack? What the hell are you doing here? How did you even get in? Do you seriously have to be so damn quiet all the time?” Suddenly out of breath, I picked up my chair and crossed my arms across the back while bending over to help fend off the asthma attack.
Paige walked over and started rubbing my back to help calm me down. “Are you finished?” I nodded in response. “Good. Let’s see, where to begin. I called you about an hour ago because I’ve taken at least three calls today from Wesley, all filled with escalating worry. Since he has never asked me to get in the middle of anything between the two of you, after the third I agreed to get your key from him and call you to let you know that I have it. He seems to think that you’re avoiding him. Knowing that you never sleep past eight in the morning, and that you never don’t return a call, I decided to come and check on you instead of waiting. You didn’t hear me because you had earphones in, and your music was so loud I actually heard it when I entered the room. So now that we’ve covered all of your outrage and questions it’s my turn. Are you going to tell me what happened between Wesley and you that has him all hot and bothered, or am I seriously going to have to call out my crime scene unit to examine you, Wesley, and your home?” During most of her tirade, I’d left my head down but I picked it up right when she asked me the question, just in time to see her set her stance, put her hands on her hips, and harden her face. Crap! I’d pulled down Head of the Crime Lab Paige. The bloodhound was loose in my house, with a key, and there was going to be no hiding anything from her.
I resigned myself to the upcoming inquisition and stood to face her. “No need to make this a criminal investigation. I’ll talk as long as you promise to put bad cop away and remember that you’re my best friend. Yesterday was insane.” I must have looked as defeated as I felt because she enveloped me in a huge bear hug.
“Oh, girl, don’t look like that. This isn’t you just got caught with the smoking gun. This is hand in the cookie jar stuff, I’m sure.” I laughed at her analogy because she was probably right. “There’s my girl. Let’s go sit on that comfy couch you got and tell me all about it. I’m sure you’ll feel better afterwards.”
She led me out to the den. I told her everything: the conversation with Olivier Friday afternoon and how intimately he behaved, the fundraising event ending with Wesley kissing me last night.
“So you’re having those headaches again?”
Really out of all of that she was focusing on them?! “Just the last month or so,” I said as I waved her off like they weren’t a big deal. “I’m sure they’re stress related.”
“What war are you fighting in your mind?”
That caught me off guard. “What makes you think I’m fighting wars in my head?”
“Wesley said that you shot across the couch, curled into the fetal position, and started mumbling crazily about targets and death. That doesn’t sound like something that’s just stress induced. Unless you were in a war in Idaho that I wasn’t aware of.”
I’d said what?! “He’s pulling your leg, Paige…”
“Um, no. He’s not. He’s really worried about you. And frankly, so am I. Have you ever seen a doctor about them?” Not since college when I was told they were migraines and stress related. I shook my head. “Don’t you think maybe you should?” No. All they’d do is prescribe me pills that wouldn’t work. “Charlotte?” She pierced me with her worried eyes. “There’s more. What is it?” I looked away. She reached out and touched my knee. “You can tell me. I won’t judge you.”
That’s easy to say when you’re ignorant of the answer. I wanted to tell her but something kept me from it. I couldn’t explain it but as I sat on that couch with her I made the decision a handful of times to tell her about the dreams. And every time, the second I did, an overwhelming feeling of dread engulfed me and my tongue would grow heavy. “There isn’t anymore,” I finally lied to her.
Her lips thinned in a grim line. “Fine. So have you asked Olivier out yet?”
“No.” While I was happy about the change in topic, I steeled myself for the lambasting she was about to deliver.
“Then you’ve settled on Wesley.”
“No.”
“So you’re going to ask Olivier out.”
“No.”
“Did those headaches break your brain?” she asked with narrowed eyes.
I narrowed mine right back at her. “No.” I held her irritated gaze as long as I could before the smile gave me away. I knew what had caused it. “Why?”
She smiled back at me and giggled.
“So you can say something other than ‘no.’” We laughed and I was happy for the tension to leave. “How come?”
“How come what?”
“How come you won’t ask Olivier out?”
I shot her a look as I pursed my lips. She knew why. “Because I don’t do that. He needs to.”
“You realize we’re out of the eighteen hundred’s, right?” she teased. “By the way we can vote too.”
“Yes, Paige. Thank you for the update. But there are still some things I think a man should do. And one of them is ask a woman out.”
Chapter 9
The following Tuesday Wesley called my office. “Charlotte! Um, hi, it’s Wesley.”
“Hi, Wesley. You do realize that two days won’t make me forget the sound of your voice.”
He chuckled, but it sounded forced. “Right, sorry. When you didn’t call or text on Saturday, I decided to give you some space and wait for you to call me. Looks like I’m not cut out for waiting when it comes to you though.” He sounded nervous. Was this a peek into what would happen if we dated and it didn’t work out? Was this awkwardness worth the risk? I needed to put him at ease.
“No, I’m sorry, Wesley. I should have called. Thank you so much for taking care of me Friday night. I’ve just needed to sort some things out.”
“I understand. Um … so … you’re not mad at me?”
“Of course not. Why would I be mad at you?”
“Well um … for you know um … what happened.” He sighed and continued. “Charlotte, I don’t know what came over me. I shouldn’t have let it happen; I should have been able to control myself.” While our conversation had started slowly and deliberately, this came out in a rush.
“Wesley, stop. Last time I checked we were both adults, both single, and both fully capable of saying stop.”
Before I could continue he cut in. “But you’d already told me you weren’t ready and…”