Losing Princeton Charming

by Love, Frankie

  “You’re the one who went—”

  “You lied to me, Spencer.” Her body language matches my own, arms crossed, jaw set, gaze hard. “You told me you were going to a small gathering with your family last night, but it turns out you were at the most sought after event on campus. And I wouldn’t have known any better if your ex-girlfriend hadn’t insisted that I work the event.”

  My stomach drops. “Winslow?”

  “Yeah. You’ve got some real class-A friends.” She smiles, but it doesn’t reach her eyes. “I’m starting to think it’s her sole purpose to make my life hell. But in a way, I’m grateful to her because I got to see exactly who Princeton Charming is in the real world.”

  “Shit, Charlie, I didn’t know. I’ll talk to her. She won’t bother you again.”

  She laughs, but it’s a forced sound, and I see the tears gathering in her eyes. “You think I care about Winslow Harrington? I’ve been fighting against people like her, like Prescott, like...you, my entire life.”

  Her words do what they’re meant for, slicing straight through my chest. “You think I’m like them?”

  Her eyes close and she temples her fingers to her lips, not responding.

  I try to put the pieces of what she says together, and I understand now why she was upset. “I didn’t tell you about the benefit because I was trying to protect you.”

  “Protect me?” She shakes her head, disbelieving. “From what?”

  “From my parents and their criticism—”

  “That’s complete bullshit, Spencer.” She turns in the passenger seat, her eyes blazing at me. “I’m not afraid of your parents, or your uppity friends. I don’t give a damn what they think about me. But maybe you do. Maybe you were too embarrassed to have me there.”

  I take her hand, feeling the weight of her words, knowing there’s a small sliver of truth in them, even though it wasn’t my intention. I hate conflict, avoid it at all cost, especially where my parents are concerned. Maybe it makes me a fucking coward.

  Bringing her hand to my lips, I kiss her knuckles. God, I wish I could change the way the world works. But there will always be Winslows and Prescotts and Tatums trying to get between us.

  “Any guy would be lucky to have you beside them,” I tell her honestly. “I know you don’t believe me, but I was trying to—”

  “Protect me.” She pulls her hand away. “Yeah, I got that.” Her lips turn down into a pout, and it would be cute if the circumstances weren’t so dire. “But I don’t need your protection, Spencer. I need your respect.”

  “You’ve got that.” Even though she flinches when I reach out for her again, I cup her face in my hands and press my forehead against hers. “There’s no one in this world I respect more, Charlie.”

  She gives a small shake of her head. “If you respected me you wouldn’t have lied, you wouldn’t have felt the need to hide me from your family.”

  “That’s not what I was doing.” Or was it?

  Shit, maybe I am the asshole she thinks I am.

  Her palms rest on my chest, that energy that’s always between us sizzles and cracks, pulling, pulling, pulling, but at the same time I can feel her pushing away. No, running away.

  I’m losing her.

  Or maybe I’ve already lost her.

  And I know I have to let her go, even though it’s the hardest fucking thing I’ve ever done.

  “Tonight was fun,” she says, eyes filled with sadness and resolution. “But it was just a band-aid. And that photographer or stalker...” She winces with the memory of it. “It just confirms everything we already know. We hurt each other without even trying. Is it worth it? Losing ourselves...”

  Except I’m not losing myself when I’m with her, I finally feel like I’m becoming the man I’m meant to be. But I don’t tell her that, because she’s right, around me she will get hurt.

  Still...

  “I don’t want to say goodbye to this. To us.”

  Her breath is shallow and shaky, filled with emotions. “Me either, but I have to...”

  I brush my lips against hers. One last kiss. “I know.”

  We stay locked like that for what seems like an eternity and I don’t want to let her go. Not sure I’m strong enough to.

  “I need you to drive me home, Spencer,” she whispers, not meeting my gaze as she buckles herself in.

  Fighting the tears that fill my eyes, I drive her to her dorm. When she gets out of the car, it takes everything within me to restrain myself.

  Go after her, my heart screams. But even if my brain would listen, my body is frozen, and I feel a coldness settle inside me that I know I will never warm up from. Because I just let the best thing in my life walk out.

  5

  Charlie

  “He still hasn’t called?” Daphne asks when I glance at my phone for what is probably the hundredth time today.

  “No,” I mutter, feeling miserable. But I don’t expect him to. Not anymore. It’s been almost three weeks since Spencer and I broke up, and he hasn’t called or sent even one text. I haven’t even seen him on campus. It’s like he’s trying to avoid me at all cost.

  “I know what will make you feel better,” Daphne says, her eyes lighting up.

  “I’m not in the mood to drink.” After the night at Tatum’s, I may never drink again.

  “I was going to say pizza.” She’s already on her phone, ordering. When she puts her phone down, she grins at me. “A double pepperoni and extra cheese is on its way.”

  “Thanks, but I think I need to go for a walk.” I put the textbook I was studying from, or at least trying to, on the table beside my bed.

  I’m still not fully over the fact that she lied to me about the stoplight party, but I admit that Daphne has been extremely supportive the past few weeks.

  She gives a small pout when I start putting on my coat and mitts. “But it’s freezing outside.”

  “I won’t be gone long.” I force a smile wishing everything didn’t feel so difficult right now. “Save a slice for me?”

  “Yeah, of course,” she says, but she doesn’t look up from her laptop that she’s now furiously typing on.

  I sigh as I leave the dorm room. I’ve gotten pretty used to Daphne’s mood swings over the past four years, but I wonder if it isn’t something more. I’ve tried to ask her about it, but she gets defensive, and a moody Daphne is one thing, an angry one is something I try to avoid.

  The snow is falling heavily when I step outside and my boots crunch with every step. I don’t mind the cold. Actually, I kind of love it, especially nights like this, when there aren’t many people out, and the snow covers everything in a white blanket making it look clean, new, unblemished.

  I wish it would work like that on my heart.

  Wish I could erase all the images of Spencer that are always in my head. The ache that never seems to go away. But I’ve been strong. I haven’t given in to the temptation to call him, no matter how much I want to.

  I’ve focused on my classes, and even though I’ve been distracted, I’ve managed to pull my average up another two percent. Not only should I have no problem getting into the master’s program, I should be able to keep my scholarship.

  Things are good. That’s what I need to focus on. My mom’s health has been better, and even though my dad had to sell his shop, he found work quickly. And I have a job, which thankfully wasn’t sabotaged by Winslow’s attempt to humiliate me. The only thing missing is...Spencer.

  “It’s better this way,” I mutter, pulling my scarf tighter around my face. Even though I’m not sure I believe it. Sure, things are a lot less complicated without him. For one, the stalker seems to have lost interest with me now that I’m no longer Princeton Charming’s Cinderella.

  Then why do I miss him so much?

  A door opens ahead of me and music drifts through as two people walk out of the pub. I’d been walking mindlessly and didn’t realize how far I’d gone. I can’t help but raise my brows when I notice that the two
people are Spencer’s sister, Ava, and Prescott, who look more than a little cozy with each other. After looking over his shoulder, he drags her into the shadows. Her arms wrap around his neck and his mouth is on her.

  More than a little shocked, I probably stand there, mouth open watching them a little longer than I should. Okay, that’s a pair I’d never have seen. Ava is sweet and lovely, and Prescott is, well...Prescott. Plus, I’m pretty sure Spencer would castrate him if he ever found out.

  The two of them disappear around the corner, Ava giggling, before they notice me.

  Yeah, it’s an odd pair, but at least they come from the same world. They don’t have an entire class system fighting against them. But still, I can’t help but feel slightly protective of Ava. She’s only a freshman, and while I doubt she’s as innocent as I was when I started seeing Spencer, I can’t imagine Prescott’s intentions are honorable.

  I debate calling Spencer to let him know, but stop myself, because it’s none of my business. Not anymore.

  As I walk by the pub, I see Tatum and Jill sitting on stools by the window, Jill laughing at something he said. I push down the sliver of jealousy that creeps into my throat when I see them. I know they’ve been spending more time together lately, and it shouldn’t bug me. It’s not like I’ve been a social butterfly these past few weeks. Every time either one of them have called I’ve brushed them off.

  I keep walking, but when I hear knuckles rapping on the window, see Tatum waving at me, I know I can’t keep avoiding him. Before I even have a chance to decide what to do, he’s outside wearing only a Princeton Athletic’s t-shirt.

  “Hey,” he says, shoving his hands in his pockets, guilt still playing across his features. “I’ve tried to call you.”

  “Yeah, sorry.” I glance at Jill through the window who waves at me to come inside. “I’ve been busy studying.”

  He shifts from one foot to the other, blowing on his fingers. He sounds miserable when he says, “Shit, Charlie, I’m really sorry about what happened. I know you’re angry—”

  “It was an accident, Tatum. I’m not upset.”

  “Really?” One brow raises. “Could have fooled me.”

  “I know. I’m sorry. I’ve just needed some time...”

  “Yeah.” He lets out a heavy breath. “Heard you and Beckett broke it off. Not going to apologize if it was about me.”

  “It was bound to happen eventually, right? You’re the one who warned me.”

  He rubs the back of his neck and winces. “Didn’t want to see you get hurt. That guy is a douche—”

  “He’s not,” I say. “Whatever you think about him, he’s actually a good guy.”

  Tatum just grunts and looks away, shoving his hands in his pockets.

  Silence stretches between us.

  I hate this.

  “So, you and Jill?” I finally ask, wanting peace between us.

  He gives a sharp laugh. “No. We’re just friends.”

  “If you wanted to be more, I’m okay with that.”

  He holds my gaze and I can’t read his expression. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

  More silence.

  “I, uh, should go.”

  “Come inside.” He shivers. “It’s fucking freezing out here. Let me buy you a drink.”

  “I don’t know—”

  “No whiskey, I promise.” He winks.

  I laugh. “Yeah, okay. Maybe just a beer.”

  “Good.” He wraps a heavy arm over my shoulder and leads me inside, pulling out the stool he was sitting on for me before heading to the bar.

  “I was starting to think you’d taken up hibernating for the winter,” Jill teases, hugging me. “I’ve missed you. How are you doing?”

  “Fine,” I say with a shrug.

  “Liar,” she says.

  I sigh. “No, really, I’m okay. What doesn’t kill you makes you stronger, right?”

  She groans. “God, I hate that saying.”

  “Yeah, me too.”

  We both laugh, and fall back into easy conversation. I’m not sure what made me walk in this direction, but now that I’m here, I’m glad for the company. For Jill’s sharp wit, and Tatum’s goofy jokes. And I feel myself relaxing for the first time in weeks. Until Jill’s face scrunches in a deep frown.

  “What’s wrong?”

  She grimaces. “Spencer’s here.”

  My heart starts to race, but when I look over my shoulder and see who he came in with I swear it stops in my chest. There are a group of them, Georgia, Yates, a few faces that I don’t know well, but it’s the tall blonde who leans into Spencer as he orders a drink at the bar that is the knife in the chest.

  He’s with Winslow.

  “Want to get out of here?” Tatum asks.

  “Daphne ordered pizza. You guys could come over,” I say, surprising myself. But after seeing what I’ve just seen, I want familiar and cozy. I want these two to keep my mind off everything else.

  “Daphne?” Jill groans slightly. I know she isn’t the biggest fan of my roommate.

  Tatum is better at seeing the good in everyone. “She means well. And she has good taste.”

  “In pizza?” I ask grinning.

  “No,” Tatum laughs. “In picking friends.”

  My mouth turns to a smile at his words, and it feels good to have the air cleared with him. It’s been a long three weeks.

  He slings an arm over my shoulder as we walk out the door that Jill is holding open. I turn, looking over my shoulder before we step outside into the frosty air. It’s Spencer’s face I see, and he takes me in. It lasts a moment, a flash, but I see it. The hurt in his eyes.

  Once again I’m tucked against Tatum.

  The same way Winslow is pressing herself against Spencer.

  I suppose old habits die hard.

  6

  Spencer

  The smell of the gardenias overpowers the table, but Mom has a thing about floral bouquets. She spends her afternoons creating arrangements in her greenhouse and places them everywhere she can. Today they are front and center at family brunch.

  My father sneezes for the third time. “Christ, Suzanne, get those things off the table.”

  Roz, the housekeeper who has been with us since we were children, scoops up the arrangement and carries it away without a word, she is nearing seventy and has learned a few things over the decades. Mainly, don’t raise an eyebrow during my parents’ spats - but if things become too demanding ask for a raise. They always oblige because losing Roz would be a blow for every last one of us.

  “It’s not my fault you didn’t take your allergy medication, Geoffrey,” Mom hisses as she sets a napkin across her lap.

  “I suppose it’s also my fault that you waste your days—”

  Ava cuts them off. “I seriously did not take a train from Princeton just so I could listen to you bicker for twenty-four hours.”

  When our parents aren’t traipsing across the country campaigning, or schmoozing with the other one percent, Ava and I try to make the trek to our parents’ D.C. home once a month, another weekend they come to Princeton, and then there are two glorious weekends a month where we can avoid them altogether.

  I’m leaving as soon as the quiche is finished.

  “When you have a husband you’ll understand how tolerable I actually am,” my mother says placidly as she reaches for her mimosa.

  Ava merely twists her lips, and I know something is on the edge of her tongue. “I actually went out with someone last week.”

  “Who?” I bark, a little too loudly. Ever since things ended with Charlie, I have been a fucking wreck. I think about her incessantly, dream about her daily, get off to the memory of her perfect body every time I touch my goddamn cock.

  It’s gotten me a bit on edge.

  Ava notices. “God, Spence. You’re the one who needs a...” She bites her tongue on whatever crude thing she was about to say, and mutters, “Girlfriend.”

  Mom perks up at that. “You and that little wai
tress are no longer an ‘item?’” She actually uses air quotes.

  I look at Ava, silently thanking her for keeping my personal business to herself. It would have been easy to bring it up to my mother considering she’s like a hyena on the prowl for gossip regarding me. Because of it, I drop the subject of whoever she’s been seeing as a way to say thanks.

  “Calling Charlotte Hayes a little waitress is inexcusable,” I say without concern for anyone’s feelings but Charlie’s. I loved her. Love her. “I won’t have this conversation with you unless you can be—”

  “Oh for God’s sake, Spencer,” my father mumbles, waving his hand in the air. “Stop being so damn politically correct.”

  I scoff. “Aren’t you a political strategist?”

  “Yes, but that doesn’t mean half of what I strategize isn’t bullshit.”

  This isn’t new territory, I’ve been through these murky waters plenty of times with my father. It’s the reason I let Ethan take over the ship’s wheel years ago. Prescott may think it’s because I’m scared of failure - but that’s only in part. The other part of me reels at my father’s stance in most political issues.

  I want to take hold of my ship now, and I don’t want my father’s help. However, that conversation is best saved for another day.

  For now, I just want to get through this meal and get back home to Princeton before dark.

  “You boys love to rile up your father,” Mom says, but as she lifts her mimosa to her mouth, her face falters. As she sips, we all consider her slip up.

  You boys.

  There is no you boys anymore.

  Ethan is gone.

  Ava reaches over and squeezes Mom’s hand and my shoulders soften, knowing we’ve all had a hell of a few years. The last thing we need is to have a fall-out over fucking gardenias or ex-girlfriends.

  Ex.

  God, it’s so damn final. It kills me to think that Charlie and I are truly over.

  Dad’s eyes meet mine. No matter how pretentious he might be, old money written on his wristwatch and cufflinks - I know he hates to see his wife and daughter in pain. He still has a good heart.