Terms of Agreement

37. Chapter 37

Chapter 37

Aiden

I t wasn’t too far into my career when “Are you coming for a drink?” became one of my least favourite questions. I had nothing against drinking or alcohol, far from it. But at thirty-two, I’d left most of my drinking days behind me—at least, I’d left the kind of drinking that “Are you coming for a drink?” encouraged.

But tonight, I’d stayed two drinks longer than I usually did. My cheeks were warm, tingling with what I was sure was a ruddy-flush and the muscles in my jaw were relaxed for what felt like the first time in weeks. I’d enjoyed getting lost in the babble of conversation between my team members. Maybe it was Ashleigh and Cameron’s poorly concealed flirtations that grabbed my attention. Maybe it was the fact that, for once, Alfie had chosen a bar that specialised in more than just a pint. Or maybe it was because the voices of my team had proven to be the only things loud enough to drown out my thoughts of Charlotte. Who knows?

Regardless of the cause, it wasn’t until Alfie raised his hand to catch the server’s eye for the fifth time that I decided to leave. The electric buzz of the alcohol in my veins had settled into an unobtrusive simmer, but if I had any more, I was sure that the light-leggedness from my pub-crawling days was sure to make an appearance.

Thankfully, we hadn’t ventured too far from West London and I could walk home. The idea of getting on a bus was enough to have my stomach spasming in anticipation. I shook my head, breathing in lungfuls of air as I set off in the direction of home. The night was soberingly cool, and while I enjoyed the icy burn of the breeze against my too warm cheeks, it wasn’t long before my mind drifted back to thoughts of Charlotte.

I hadn’t called or messaged—how could I? What was I supposed to say?

‘Oh, hey Charlotte, it’s Aiden. What are your thoughts on casual sex? Oh really, you’re open to it? Excellent, your place or mine? Mine? Okay, but we’re going to have to be quiet—my little sister is sleeping in the next room.’

I grimaced. Evidently, the days of my sister being a massive cock-block were far from over. Scanning my fob at the entrance to the building and shaking off some of the chill from outside, I made my way towards the elevator. The loud gurgling of my stomach brought my thoughts back to my sister. I wonder what she’d ordered for dinner.

She would have ordered in—she almost always did. Of the two of us, it was me who’d shown an interest in cooking growing up. I’d dedicated hours of my summer holidays at Mum’s side as she schooled me in the kitchen, teaching me to make everything from shepherd’s pie to jjigae . Louise had never been able to sit still long enough to join us, giving up before we’d even finished rinsing the cabbage for kimchi. Louise had always been a better student when she cared about the subject matter, and she did not care for banchan . Instead, her time in the kitchen was driven by her sweet tooth—something Mum had little patience for.

Twisting my key in the lock, I was surprised when I stepped into a cold and dark apartment.

‘Lou?’ I called out, but only silence answered. Stepping out of my shoes, I moved to the thermostat, cranking up the heat. ‘Louise?’ I moved to the kitchen and flicked on the kettle. There was no sign of her—well, no sign apart from the dishes stacked in the sink, and I was pretty sure that most of those had been there when I left for work this morning. I pulled out my phone. No missed calls. No texts. Frowning, I fired off a quick text before turning my attention to the fridge.

My meal prep was untouched, the four remaining Pyrex dishes still neatly stacked where I’d left them. Selecting one, I popped it in the microwave before reaching for the kettle to fill a mug with hot water. I’d just taken a sip, allowing the warmth to spread through my chest and chase away any of the lingering cold, when my phone buzzed in my pocket.

She was alive then. That was good. I shucked off my coat, heading back to the entryway to hang it up. The microwave beeped behind me, pulling me back to the kitchen where I took another gulp from my mug, unlocking my phone to read Louise’s text. I spluttered, coughing and choking as I forced the water down as I stared in wide-eyed horror at a picture of my sister and a familiar surly-looking cat.

***

I’d slipped on my shoes and was making my way up to Charlotte’s apartment before my dinner had even had a chance to soak up the last of the alcohol in my system. Grumbling all the way. Thanks to my sister, I now not only had to apologise for not calling when I said I would, I also had to apologise for Louise ruining whatever plans Charlotte may have had for the night.

Too restless to wait for the elevator, I took the stairs two at a time, my thoughts tracking their usual path to Charlotte. Before this agreement, Charlotte was just another one of my neighbours, one of those people in my life who I saw often enough but still considered to be NPCs in the greater scheme of things. It was only now, after having spent time with her, that I wondered what she did “off screen.”

I knew now that she was a lawyer, that she liked music, that she didn’t have much free time, and that she was mother to the demon-cat that plagued my nightmares. But I didn’t know how she spent her evenings—did she read? Watch TV? What was on her Netflix watchlist? What were her guilty pleasures? I shook my head, pulling myself from the thoughts and questions that were becoming more and more difficult to avoid.

Straightening my shoulders, I strode over to Charlotte’s apartment and rapped on the front door. It was only then, as my still-clenched fist lowered to my side, that I realised I didn’t have a plan. It had been four days, and I still hadn’t figured out what to say to her. A small part of me prayed she wouldn’t be home—idiot. Noises sounded within the apartment, a quiet shuffling that grew louder as whoever it was made their way towards me. Taking a deep breath, I widened my stance and braced myself as the door swung open.

‘Hello.’

‘Hi,’ I said on an exhale, my body relaxing at the sight of her.

Charlotte was still wearing what I assumed was her work clothes, the grey trousers seemingly too formal for a quiet night at home. Her work outfit was softened somewhat by a large woolly cardigan. My eyes travelled up her body, past the too-long sleeves that covered her fingers and up to her pretty face.

Her vivacious curls had been confined to a messy bun, but I felt the corners of my mouth tip up into a smile at the sight of the few tendrils that had braved their escape and now framed her face and neck—one curl brushing against that spot under her ear that I knew was sensitive to the touch. I forced myself to look away from that spot, moving to take in the unusually hard set of her jaw and coming to rest on her wide green eyes, which were framed by a pair of glasses that I hadn’t known she needed, but that she very much suited.

Her eyes were focused on my chest, not something I’d be opposed to in general—I’d caught her looking at my chest before, but this was not like previous times. Her eyes were unfocused, aimed at my chest, but it was as if she were looking through me, not at me.

‘How are you?’ Look at me.

‘You’re here for Louise?’ Her voice was flat, the words coming out more as a statement than a question. It was only when I hesitated to answer that her eyes flitted to my face, pausing only long enough for me to catch a glimpse of something unsettling before they dropped back to my chest. A faint flush spread across her cheeks and the nagging guilt that had been coating my insides all week forced its way up my throat and spilled into my mouth, the taste so strong I thought I might choke on it.

The realisation hit me hard. I was a bastard. I’d been so worried about what came next, about how to ask for what I wanted, that I didn’t stop to think about what it might be like for her—on the receiving end, waiting for my call.

‘She’s in the living room. She fell asleep midway through the last episode. I’ll go get her,’ she said, turning away from me.

‘I didn’t know you wore these,’ I blurted out, my hand reaching forward to gesture to her frames, but my voice must have startled her. Her head whipped back in my direction and my finger collided with her cheek, jostling the glasses and unsettling them from their perch on her nose. ‘Shit, sorry!’ I stepped into the apartment, a hand moving to cup her cheek as I used my other hand to gently straighten the frames. She stared up at me, confusion pinching her brow, until she blinked and stepped away from my touch.

‘Yeah,’ Charlotte whisper-spoke, pushing the glasses up the bridge of her nose. ‘I’ve had them since I was nine. Well, not this pair specifically.’ Heat bloomed across her cheeks and her eyes flicked down to her feet. ‘I don’t think the pair I had when I was nine would even fit my face now, let alone help me see anything.’

My chest tightened as the words trickled past her lips, an unknown emotion swelling beneath my ribcage until I could barely breathe, let alone speak.

‘Sometimes,’ she continued, her words coming out faster and faster to fill the silence, ‘I worry about what would happen in a crisis if I were stuck without contacts or I lost my glasses. It made me so anxious at one point that for my first year away from home, I slept with my contact lenses in.’ I bit down on the inside of my cheek, fighting a smile as Charlotte blew out a breath. ‘But several eye-infections later, I decided it wasn’t worth it, that I’ll have to take my chances and pray that I’ll be fast enough to outrun the zombie apocalypse.’

Charlotte’s confession ended with a shrug, and I could practically see the moment her mind registered what she had said, her eyes widened, her cheeks warmed, and her hand flew up to cover mouth as if she were afraid of what else she might say her if lips weren’t on lockdown.

I smiled then. I couldn’t help it. ‘Don’t worry,’ I said. And, pulled by the magnet of her gaze, I reached out to brush one of her more courageous curls away from her face, letting my fingertips brush over the warm colour of her cheeks. ‘I wouldn’t let the zombies get you.’

‘I—’

‘Aiden?’ Louise rounded the corner, a brown smudge of fur in her arms. ‘I thought I heard your dulcet tones.’

‘Yeah.’ I nodded, letting my hand to fall to my side. ‘Time to go.’

‘Aiden,’ Louise huffed, even as she stepped into her unlaced sneakers. ‘I’m twenty-two years old. I don’t have a bedtime.’

‘Maybe not,’ I acknowledged, eyeing her tenuous grip on Oscar. ‘But it’s past eleven and we’ve all got work tomorrow. Maybe Charlotte wants to go to sleep.’

Louise gasped, turning to face Charlotte. ‘I’m so sorry,’ she said, sounding so contrite I almost felt bad for guilt-tripping her. ‘I was just having so much fun.’

‘Me too,’ Charlotte promised, and she reached out to pull Louise into a hug, ignoring Oscar’s squeal of protest at being sandwiched between them. ‘And you were right about the show,’ she continued, shooting a dirty look in my direction. ‘The hand acting alone was enough to get me hooked.’

What the fuck was hand acting?

‘I can come by again and we can finish it together?’

I shook my head. Louise had never had an issue with inviting herself places, much to Mum’s chagrin.

‘I’d love that,’ Charlotte said, pulling back to look my sister in the eye.

‘Great!’ Louise beamed, passing Oscar over into Charlotte’s arms and wiggling her foot into her shoe. ‘But I wouldn’t bother after season one. It’s not the same without RPJ.’

‘He’s not in season two?’ Something in my stomach curdled at the way Charlotte’s eyes brightened at the mention of RPJ. Whoever he was, the caveman in me quietly hoped he’d never work again.

‘No, the show—’

I cleared my throat and Louise stopped mid-sentence.

‘Looks like someone needs his beauty sleep.’ She arched an eyebrow at Charlotte. ‘I’ll text you?’

I didn’t miss the way Charlotte’s eyes flickered towards me before she nodded to Louise.

‘Aiden,’ Louise called, looking back at me from where she stood in the hallway, ‘you coming?’

‘You go on down,’ I said, my eyes locked on Charlotte. ‘I need to chat to Charlotte about something.’

‘Okay.’

I saw Louise wave in my periphery before bouncing off towards the elevator.

Charlotte’s eyes were locked on her retreating figure for far longer than she was in view until, at last, she had no choice but to look at me.

‘You needed something?’

‘I did,’ I agreed, taking a step towards her and lifting my fingers to caress her cheek. ‘I have a proposition for you.’

***

‘A proposition,’ Charlotte echoed, taking a step backwards, deeper into the apartment.

I nodded, mirroring her movements. ‘I’ve been thinking about our agreement… about some of the terms.’ I watched the slender column of her neck contract as she swallowed.

‘Oh?’ she asked, tightening her hold on Oscar, whose amber eyes had narrowed at my approach.

‘Mmm,’ I confirmed, stopping a few inches away from her. ‘Do you remember at the wedding—how we made a few alterations to the contract?’

‘Y-yes,’ she stammered.

‘Well, since Friday night—’ I paused. This was it. This was the moment. I’d been thinking about it all week, about how to articulate it… and this seemed like the easiest way to get what I wanted—what I hoped we both wanted—while also keeping the lines between us clear. ‘I’ve been thinking about another alteration.’

‘Addendum.’ The word cut through the air, throwing me off track.

‘What?’

‘An item of additional material added at the end of a document, typically in order to correct, clarify, or, in this case, supplement something,’ Charlotte said, still not looking at me, her brows pinched in concentration as she rattled off the definition. I felt the corner of my mouth tick up into a smile—this fucking woman.

‘Yes,’ I agreed, ‘an addendum.’

‘Okay,’ she said simply, moving to the living room and heading over to the television. I followed, watching as she set Oscar down on the sofa before dropping to her knees in front of the consol table beneath the television, opening one of the drawers and pulling out a plastic binder.

‘What did you have in mind?’ She asked in what I imagined was her lawyer voice, calm and collected as she flipped open the binder and paged through its documents.

Icy panic spread through my veins as I stood frozen in front of her sofa. It was now or never. I could not fuck this up.

‘Charlotte,’ I said, drawing her eyes to me as her fingers curled around what looked like a water bill. ‘Last Friday night,’ I started. Her eyes widened and dropped back down to the binder. I watched as she caught her lower lip between her teeth and worried the soft pink flesh of it. ‘I want to do it again,’ I blurted out.

Charlotte’s head snapped up. ‘You do?’ she squeaked.

I nodded. ‘And more.’ Charlotte’s mouth popped open, but I held out a hand to stop her. ‘I need you to understand what I’m offering here, so just… just let me get this out,’ I entreated. Her mouth snapped shut, her pretty lips pursing as she looked up at me expectantly. That alone was enough to have my cock thickening in my trousers. I swallowed and began pacing back and forth in front of her sofa, forcing myself to think with my head and not my cock.

I’d practiced this a few times in the past few days as I tried to figure out what to say, but none of my imagined conversations had ever got this far. I’d always given up at around this point, figuring that either she’d say “no,” or that I’d never have the courage to start the conversation in the first place.

Blowing out a breath, I cast a look in her direction and spoke before I had the chance to talk myself out of it. ‘I want to alter the contract—’ I stated on an exhale, ‘to add an addendum.’ Charlotte’s mouth tips up in a small smile. ‘One in which we stipulate that for the remainder of our agreement—so until the morning after the Christmas party,’ I clarified, ‘we engage in… that we… Fuck.’ Exasperated, I scrubbed a hand across my face.

‘That we fuck?’ Charlotte frowned, and I realised my mistake.

‘Casual sex,’ I corrected, unsure of how to make the idea flowery enough to be palatable. ‘That’s what I want.’ Charlotte’s lips parted, but I forged ahead, picking up speed as the words tumbled out of my mouth, ‘I need you to understand that that’s all I have to offer. I can’t date you or hold your hand.’ My gaze was fixed on the carpeted floor, my heart firmly lodged in my throat. ‘I can’t take you places or meet your friends. I can’t be your…’ I trailed off, now covered in what felt like a sheen of sweat. ‘Sex,’ I finished. ‘That’s all I can offer.’

‘And the Christmas party,’ I added hastily, raising a hand to my smack my forehead. ‘Obviously the Christmas Party.’ I could practically hear her thoughts churning from where she sat, the binder forgotten in her lap.

‘I understand if you need some time to think about it,’ I continued, afraid that, if she spoke now, she’d say “no.” ‘And If I haven’t heard from you by the end of the week… I’ll assume that your answer is no, and we’ll just forget this conversation ever happened. I’ll still be your plus one to your Christmas Party, but we’ll act like this,’ I said, moving my hand across the space between us, ‘never happened.’

And then I left her seated on her living room floor and ran. I don’t even think I stopped to say “goodnight.” It wasn’t my finest moment, but it was one that I had the pleasure of reliving with excruciating attention to detail as I lay awake in bed that night.

So, imagine my surprise when I found an envelope taped to my door a few days later. My name was carefully copied across the front in what I knew to be Charlotte’s handwriting. Opening it, I pulled a copy of what I’d guessed was our contract, complete with the new addendum. I fist-punched the air, struggling to keep my celebrations quiet while Louise was on a call with our parents in the next room.