Say You Want Me

Chapter 1

Charlotte nursed the last sip of her gin and tonic, savoring the lingering bite of juniper as the ice cubes clinked against her lips.

The bar pulsed around her, a kaleidoscope of bodies moving to music that vibrated through the floorboards.

This wasn’t her usual scene. Back home, she frequented quiet wine bars where conversations didn’t require shouting and the lighting didn’t shift between electric blue and hot pink every thirty seconds.

She signaled the bartender, a woman with an undercut and forearms covered in intricate tattoos. “I’d like to close out, please.”

The weekend getaway had been Diane’s idea, ironically enough.

“You need to get out, Char. Meet people. Remember what it’s like.

” As if her ex-wife of twenty years had any business giving advice on moving forward.

Charlotte had chosen this coastal town precisely because nobody knew her here.

No colleagues to whisper about the recently divorced psychology professor. No students to awkwardly avoid.

The bartender returned with her receipt. Charlotte added a generous tip, grateful for the woman’s attentiveness despite the Friday night crowd.

“Can I buy you another?”

Charlotte turned toward the voice. A young woman with tousled dark hair leaned against the bar, confidence radiating from her posture.

Her fitted black t-shirt revealed toned arms, and a small silver nose ring caught the light when she smiled.

She couldn’t be more than twenty-seven, maybe twenty-eight.

Something fluttered in Charlotte’s chest—a feeling she immediately tried to analyze and dismiss. The woman’s eyes held hers with an intensity that made Charlotte’s fingers tighten around her empty glass.

“That’s very kind,” Charlotte said, finding her professional voice, the one she used when maintaining boundaries with overeager students. “But I’m actually heading out.”

The young woman’s smile didn’t falter. “Sure about that? Night’s still young.” Her gaze traveled over Charlotte’s face, lingering on her lips before returning to her eyes.

Charlotte slipped her credit card back into her wallet, suddenly aware of the heat rising to her cheeks. “I’m sure. Thank you, though.” She gathered her purse, oddly flustered by the attention.

Charlotte pushed through the bar’s heavy door, the cool night air a relief against her flushed skin. The encounter with the young woman lingered, an unexpected ripple in her carefully controlled evening. She rolled her shoulders back, trying to shake off the feeling.

Ridiculous. She was analyzing the interaction like one of her case studies. A simple proposition at a bar, nothing more. Yet something about those confident eyes had momentarily thrown her off balance.

She thought of Richard and Alan from the psychology department, both in their fifties, who routinely dated women half their age.

They’d swap stories in the faculty lounge, their voices dropping when she entered the room.

Charlotte had always viewed their behavior with quiet disdain.

The power imbalance, the cliché of it all.

It wasn’t just unprofessional, it was lazy.

The June evening wrapped around her, warm but not unpleasant. Above, stars punctured the California sky, clearer here than back in the city. Music from the bar faded as she walked toward the beach, replaced by the rhythmic percussion of waves against shore.

Charlotte slipped her blazer on against the light breeze coming off the water. The silk lining felt cool against her arms. At the edge where pavement met sand, she paused to remove her heels, feeling instantly shorter, somehow more vulnerable.

The sand was still warm from the day’s sun, fine grains slipping between her toes.

Charlotte closed her eyes for a moment, savoring the sensation.

When was the last time she’d done something so simple, so present?

Before the divorce, before the endless faculty meetings and paper submissions, before her life had become a series of predictable patterns.

She walked closer to the water, where the sand grew firmer. The ocean stretched before her, a vast darkness interrupted by moonlight dancing on the waves. The tide was coming in, each wave reaching a little farther up the beach than the last.

Charlotte inhaled deeply, tasting salt on her tongue.

She strolled along the shoreline, letting the cool water lap at her ankles. The beach stretched empty in both directions, offering a solitude she hadn’t realized she craved.

It was unbelievable how quickly her life had changed, and sometimes, she struggled to understand how it had alreayd been three months since the divorce papers were finalized.

The divorce had been necessary. They’d grown apart years ago, their marriage becoming a convenient arrangement of shared bills and parallel lives.

Diane’s research trips grew longer, Charlotte’s office hours extended.

They’d stopped fighting somewhere along the way—not because they’d found harmony, but because neither cared enough to argue anymore.

Charlotte wiggled her toes in the sand. Strange how something could be both right and painful. She didn’t miss Diane exactly, but she missed the certainty of knowing where she belonged. Twenty years was a long time to orbit another person, even at a distance.

A flicker of orange light caught her attention down the beach.

As she walked closer, the sound of laughter and music carried on the breeze.

A bonfire blazed against the darkness, surrounded by a small gathering of people.

Charlotte hesitated, not wanting to intrude, but something pulled her forward.

The circle opened toward the ocean, revealing a young woman sitting on a driftwood log, acoustic guitar balanced on her knee. Her face glowed in the firelight as her fingers moved across the strings with practiced ease. When she began to sing, Charlotte stopped walking.

The voice that carried across the sand was husky and clear, wrapping around a melody Charlotte didn’t recognize. The singer’s eyes were closed, her head tilted slightly as if listening to something beyond the crackling fire and gentle waves.

Charlotte retreated from the water’s edge, her footprints leaving temporary impressions in the wet sand.

The young woman’s voice pulled at something deep within her chest—a longing she couldn’t quite name.

She found a large, flat rock nestled against the dunes, far enough from the bonfire to remain unnoticed but close enough to hear the music.

She settled onto the rock, tucking her legs beneath her. Charlotte placed her heels and bag beside her, sand clinging to her moistened feet. From this distance, the bonfire appeared as a vibrant smudge against the darkness, silhouetting the figures gathered around it.

They were young—college age, perhaps. Charlotte counted seven of them, passing bottles and laughing between songs. Their carefree energy radiated across the beach. The singer commanded the space without trying, her presence magnetic even from afar.

The salt-laden breeze carried the scent of burning driftwood and marijuana, mingling with the ocean’s briny perfume. Charlotte inhaled deeply, allowing herself this moment of sensory indulgence. The night air felt electric against her skin, raising goosebumps along her arms beneath her blazer.

When the singer began another song, Charlotte recognized the opening chords of “Landslide.” The young woman’s interpretation was raw, stripping away pretense to reveal the vulnerability at the song’s core. Her voice cracked slightly, adding an authenticity that made Charlotte’s throat tighten.

She should leave. Walk back to her rental cottage, answer the emails piling up in her inbox. Instead, Charlotte remained frozen on her rocky perch, transfixed by the tableau before her—youth and freedom personified in firelight and music.

The ocean continued its rhythmic conversation with the shore, a counterpoint to the guitar’s melody.

Charlotte closed her eyes for a moment, allowing the convergence of sounds to wash over her.

When she opened them again, the singer was looking directly at her across the expanse of the darkened beach.