by Frankie Love
I wipe the tears from her cheek and give her a sad smile. “You love the idea of me, Winnie.”
“Can’t that be enough?”
I shake my head. “No. Not anymore.”
Realizing I’m not backing down, she presses her lips into a firm line and steps away. “You’re going to regret this, Spencer.”
I let her walk away, knowing she’s wrong.
It’s time I closed that chapter. I want the fairy tale ending, and it won’t be with Winslow Harrington.
20
Charlie
“So you guys are over?” Daphne asks as we stand in line for caffeine at a campus coffee stand. We have the same eight am class on Thursdays, and it just finished. We didn’t have time to get coffee before class started, but now we are desperate. I’m going to need an extra large dark roast to get through the day.
I was up half the night studying for the Theories of Global Justice test I have today.
“Hmm?” I ask, not really paying attention to my roommate.
With her phone in hand she repeats, “You and Spencer Beckett, you guys aren’t like a thing anymore?”
Leaning in so the people behind us don’t hear I whisper, “We haven’t labeled the relationship, but we’re a thing. I mean, I think we’re a thing.”
She twists her lips. “Um, you should have a look at this then.”
Before I can glance at her phone, the barista asks to take our order. But I don’t get a chance to order my basic black drip coffee before Daphne asks for two extra large, extra shot, peppermint mochas as she hands over her credit card.
“’Tis the season,” she says as we walk to the queue to wait for our drinks.
“Thank you,” I say, shoving my crumpled one dollar bills back in my purse. I rewrap the scarf around my neck and wiggle my toes. The temperature seems to have dropped ten degrees overnight. Christmas is inching closer and closer and I am no nearer to sorting out how I’m going to get home. “Now what were you saying?”
“Don’t get upset, but...” She hands me her phone.
I frown as I look at some guy named Yates Bradford. The image is of him at a dance club with a bunch of semi-familiar looking girls. “Who is this?”
“Oops, this one,” she says, swiping up.
My stomach drops.
“Wait, when was this taken?” I ask, zooming in on the image of Spencer Beckett and Winslow Harrington. The photo is tagged in Atlantic City. Winslow’s arms are wrapped around him, and he’s cupping her face with his hand. They are mere inches apart with a blackjack table behind them, and they look...intimate.
Daphne places her hand on my arm and gives it a small squeeze. “It was posted late last night.”
My heart sinks. “Are you sure? How did you even find this?”
“Two peppermint mochas,” the barista calls out and Daphne grabs our drinks just as Tatum approaches us.
“Hey ladies,” he says, draping his arms around our shoulders. “It’s fucking cold as balls out there.”
I bite my lip, scared I’m going to start crying. Daphne notices and takes control. “Um, we’re in crisis mode.” She grabs her phone and shows Tatum.
“Oh, shit, Hayes.”
Daphne nods. “Exactly. We need carbs. Pancake carbs. Now.”
“Your next class isn’t for an hour and a half, right?” he asks, looking at me, but he already knows the answer.
Numb, a million emotions and thoughts clamoring inside me, I let them lead me out of the coffee shop.
Don’t cry, Charlie, I warn myself. You knew what you were getting into when you hooked up with Spencer Beckett.
But I‘d still let myself fall for Princeton Charming, even knowing how it would end.
Ten minutes later we slide into a booth at an off-campus diner and I focus on drinking my mocha as Tatum and Daphne order for the table.
“Are there any more photos?” I ask when the waitress leaves. My voice sounds distant, metallic, detached.
Tatum and Daphne share a look.
“What? If there are, just show me so we can get this over with.”
Daphne hands me her phone again, this time it’s Winslow’s Instagram feed. There are half a dozen photos of her in Spencer’s lap. Her arms are around him, and in some of them, another woman is with them too. She’s captioned it, Double the fun.
My stomach turns.
“I really thought. I mean, he seemed so sincere.” Don’t cry, don’t cry. But I can feel the stupid tears forming, burning my eyes.
“The guy’s a player. What did you expect?” Tatum says.
“Not helpful.” Daphne smacks his shoulder.
“What? I tried to warn her—”
“I can’t do this right now.” I push out of my seat. “I have to go.”
Both Tatum and Daphne call after me, but I dart out of the restaurant, and when I’m finally outside and I know they aren’t following me, I let my tears fall.
“He’s just a guy,” I mumble. “Just a stupid, asshole, inconsiderate—”
“Charlie?” Ava, Spencer’s younger sister, is waving at me from the steps of one of the campus buildings. “Hey, wait up.”
Not now. I haven’t seen her since the night at the hospital. As she approaches, her smile drops.
“Are you all right?”
“Yeah, I’m just in a rush to get to class.” A small lie.
She doesn’t look like she believes me. “I hope it’s not something my idiot brother did.”
I laugh at that, but there’s no humor in it. I just need my space. Time to process that the guy I gave my heart and body to isn’t who I thought he was. Spencer Beckett is the ultimate player...and he did a good job playing me.
“I never got the chance to say thank you for helping me that night.” She winces. “It’s pretty embarrassing.”
“I’m just glad you were okay. But I should really go.”
“Sure. But maybe we can have coffee sometime? Now that you and Spencer are dating—”
“We’re not.” The words come out clipped because I’m trying to hold back my tears again.
“Oh, I thought...” Her brows are drawn down. “He cares about you. I don’t think I’ve ever seen him so into someone. He even...” She chews on her bottom lip before saying. “It’s probably for the best. You’re sweet, Charlotte.” She winces. “And in our world, sweet gets eaten alive. I love my brother, but he’ll hurt you even if he doesn’t want to.”
I know she’s not trying to be mean. I can see the concern in her eyes. But I’m reminded once again that I’m not good enough for Spencer Beckett.
“Hayes,” a deep voice says behind me, filled with something that sounds like triumph. Prescott slings a heavy arm over my shoulder then says to Ava. “And little Beckett. What are the two of you scheming about?”
I shrug him off. “I was just leaving.” I say to Ava before I walk away, “Thanks for the advice.”
Anger has replaced all sadness as I start to jog toward the building where my class is. So when Prescott catches up to me and spins me around, I can barely control my response.
“What do you want, Prescott? To rub my face in those pictures?”
He fucking grins at me. “So you saw them already. News travels fast. I tried to warn you—”
“Right. I need to watch my back, right?” I repeat the words he said to me at the coffee shop a couple weeks ago. “What was the other thing, about a bet? Were you both playing me the entire time?”
He leans closer. “I enjoy games, Charlotte. They make life interesting. Blackjack, roulette...And you.” There’s something dark in his gaze as it focuses on me. “You were a bet I knew I’d win.”
“You didn’t win anything.”
He chuckles. “I knew you’d never go home with Beckett that night at the gala. So yeah, Hayes, I won. A night in Atlantic City, all paid thanks to Spencer Beckett’s inability to walk away from a challenge.”
That’s what I was to him - a bet, a challenge.
“You’
re an asshole, you know that,” I spit out, turning to walk away.
He steps in front of me. “It should be Beckett you’re pissed at, doll. I’m not the one who fucked you over.” He winks, expression filled with lascivious suggestions. “Even though I wanted to. If you want to get back at Beckett, I can think of a way that will benefit us both.”
I have to squeeze my fists to my side in order not to slap him. “Get out of my way, Prescott.”
“What? You think you’re too good for me?” He sneers, grabbing my arms. “I’ve got deeper pockets and a bigger cock than—”
I don’t see Spencer approach, and I’m pretty sure Prescott doesn’t either, because one second he’s leering over me, and the next he sprawled out on the lawn in front of me. Spencer has him by the collar of his jacket, his fist inches from Prescott’s face. I can’t hear what he says, but from the tone I know it’s a threat.
“You’re brainwashed because of a little virgin pussy,” Prescott says, loud enough for me and the small crowd that’s started to gather around to watch. He pushes Spencer away and they both stand.
“Just stay away from her or we’re done.”
“You’re losing it, Beckett. I get the need to slum it every once in awhile, but—”
Spencer raises his arm, and I know he’s about to punch his best friend in the face. And while I’d really like to see it, I know it won’t solve anything.
“Spencer, stop.”
Mid-swing, he stops, his breathing heavy, eyes wild as they pin Prescott with a murderous look.
“Just stop,” I repeat, my own breathing coming out labored. Confusion, frustration, anger, the swirl like an out of control vortex inside me. I haven’t even begun to process the pictures of Spencer and Winslow together, let alone Prescott’s words, or Spencer swooping in like a dark knight willing to protect my honor.
But it’s him I need protection from.
The crowd has grown bigger now, and I notice more than a few phones are out.
Without another word, I turn and run. I know I’m forgetting something. But I can’t remember what. And right now I don’t care. I just need to find a dark cave to burrow myself in and cry. Tears blur my vision, and I have no idea where I’m going. I just need to get away.
21
Spencer
“You’re really going to throw away a lifetime of friendship for some cheap pussy?” Prescott growls out, lip curled over his teeth.
I’m ready to take another swing at him when I realize Charlie has taken off.
“Friends don’t fuck each other over.” I turn to chase after her, ignoring Prescott’s comments that trail after me.
“You’ll thank me when this is all over.”
Bullshit. He’s lucky Charlie stopped me mid swing from bashing his front teeth out of his head. I still have an itch to turn around and do it.
I knew the second I woke up this morning and saw the photos posted on Winslow’s Instagram that trouble was brewing. I’d gone straight to Charlie’s dorm to explain before she saw them, but she was already gone.
Half the morning I’d driven around campus trying to find her. It was Ava who finally helped me figure out where she was.
Brat: What did you do to Charlie? You’re a real douche, you know that?
Me: You saw her?
Brat: I was just talking to her. She seemed really upset.
Me: Text me your exact location.
She had. But it wasn’t Ava I’d found her with. Prescott was hovering over her, his posture meant to intimidate, but it was his words that sent me over the edge.
And now she’s gone again, and I can’t imagine what she’s thinking.
I text Winslow as I walk toward where I parked my car.
Me: You went too far this time. We’re done for good. And stay the hell away from Charlie, or I’ll ruin you.
Fear rather than anger guide me. Because I know I may have just lost Charlie forever.
And I wouldn’t blame her if she never wants anything to do with me again, because this shit, the pictures, Prescott’s interfering, the way my friends and family think they can use other people as pawns to get what they want - it’s my fucked up life.
It’s starting to snow, and as I turn onto Prospect Ave., I see her. Shoulders hunched over, scarf wrapped around her face, I know it’s Charlie. I start to slow and roll the window down.
“Charlie.”
She glances over and I see her eyes are bloodshot and puffy from crying. “Go away, Spencer, I have nothing to say to you.”
“Let me explain. Get in the car.”
“I don’t care what you have to say. Prescott explained everything.”
“I don’t know what Prescott’s fucking problem is, but I’ll deal with him. He had no right talking to you like that.”
She stops walking and turns on me. “You think you’re any different? You and he are the same. You think just because you have money you can use people any way you want.”
“You’re right. I was that way, but not anymore. Not with you.”
She bites her bottom lip and I can see she’s holding back tears. “I can’t do this. Just leave me alone.”
When she starts to walk away, I get out of the car, slamming the door before moving around the hood and pulling her toward me.
“Let me go, Spencer.”
“Not until you listen to me. I know what those pictures looked like, but nothing happened. She was all over me, snapping pictures before I had a chance to push her away. I had no clue she was even going to be there. Pretty sure Prescott set the whole thing up.”
“Even if that’s true, don’t you see how messed up that is?”
“I know. Just come back to my place. Please, Charlie.” I have her face in my hands, pleading with her with my words and eyes. “I don’t want to lose you.”
Her bottom lip trembles and I’m terrified she’s going to say no, that she’ll walk away for good. But after a few shaky breaths, she nods.
“I’m going to make this up to you,” I say, opening the passenger side door and helping her in.
She’s silent as we drive back to my place, and when I take her hand she doesn’t pull away, but she doesn’t relax into my touch like she usually does. There’s tension in her, and her silence scares me more than her angry words.
I know I should just let her go. As much as I want to protect her from people like Prescott and Winslow, I know if she’s going to be part of my life, there will always be people trying to get between us.
Even my own mother would rather see me miserable than be with someone like Charlie.
“It’s fucked up,” I mutter, tossing my keys on the table as we enter my apartment.
Charlie still hasn’t said anything, but she looks at me as I take her jacket, and there’s so much uncertainty and doubt in her eyes it makes my chest squeeze painfully.
“I fucked up,” I say, pressing my forehead to hers. “I should have known Winslow would pull something like that. But you have to believe me that nothing happened between us. You’re who I want, Charlie.”
She gives a small shake of her head. “I don’t know if I can do this. I care about you Spencer—”
“That’s all that matters.” I kiss her, hard, possessive, probably demanding more than she can give right now, but I need to know that she’s still mine.
That I haven’t lost her.
“Spencer,” she whimpers against my lips, her body melting into mine.
Maybe it makes me even more of an asshole, knowing the power my touch has over her and using it to prevent her from walking away. But I need her.
I lift her up, wrapping her legs around my waist and carrying her to my bedroom.
“This doesn’t solve anything,” she says against my mouth, even though her hands are already tugging at my shirt, and her body vibrates with anticipation.
I lay her down on my bed, kissing her as I peel off her clothes. “You’re mine, Charlie Hayes.” She whimpers as I kiss her breast. “That’s what it
solves.”
“You’re going to break my heart.”
“I won’t.”
She closes her eyes then, and I know she is struggling to believe me, to trust me.
“Let me try to be the man you need,” I ask as I run my bare hands over her skin. Her nipples are hard, and I swirl my tongue around them, my cock growing with need as I melt against her body.
“Oh Spence,” she moans, running her fingers through my hair. Her legs open for me and I slip my fingers inside her, needing to feel her tight warmth. “Make me come.” Her words tell me that even if she’s upset, she can separate all that from what we share.
My fingers move against her, her slick entrance getting my cock nice and ready. As her hand wraps around my shaft I kiss her hard, I kiss her knowing that this is exactly what I want. And in this moment, I know it’s what she wants too.
It seems everything in my life is trying to sabotage us, but there is nothing that can get between us right now. In my room, the world grows small. Her and me. Nothing else. Just this.
“Charlie,” I whisper her name as I fill her up, my hands on her ass, her hips, easing her against me until she is moaning my name.
“Oh God, Spence,” she whimpers as I move deeper inside her. Her warm pussy is so wet and ready that when I fill her up entirely, she begins to cry out for relief. “Make me come, oh God, yes, yes, ohhh.” She wraps her legs tight around me as she comes, and I find myself holding onto her as I finish. I drop my mouth to hers, needing her sweet lips, needing her warm body. Needing her.
Her.
Only her.
“God, I like kissing you.”
She smiles, the dark hurt in her eyes from earlier is fading, and she looks up at me with a depth we haven’t shared before. “Coming from you, that is quite the compliment,” she says. Then she rolls me over, onto my back. “But I need more than kisses, Spencer Beckett. I need you to fuck me until I forget about those photos.”
Her hair falls in her face and I tuck the strands behind her ears. “Is that the healthiest way to deal with pain?” I ask.
She twists her lips. “Haha,” she says sarcastically. “I just want to feel good right now. That’s all. No psychoanalysis necessary.”