38. Chapter 38
Chapter 38
Charlotte
‘ A re you sure?’ I twisted to get a better look at myself in the mirror over the vanity.
‘More than I was about the cream.’
My phone was propped up in front of the mirror. Becky’s face filled the screen as she helped me pick out an outfit.
Thanks to a rather brief text exchange with Aiden on Thursday, I’d struggled to fall asleep last night. We’d settled on a date—no, not a date—a time to liaise? That sounded weird, but I didn’t know what to call this kind of thing and calling it sexy-bang-bang time seemed… crass. Anyway, we’d decided to meet at Aiden’s, but rather than the plan calming my nerves, it did the exact opposite. My stomach was a tornado of butterflies that swirled up from my navel and beat their wings against my ribcage. If I had to guess, I’d got around four hours of sleep and, when I’d braved my reflection this morning, I could tell.
I’d subsequently spent a sizeable chunk of my day ignoring the now overflowing laundry basket—that could wait until tomorrow—and doing an assortment of rejuvenating and brightening face masks in an attempt to mute the purple smudges under my eyes. At around three o’clock, I’d settled into a warm bath, luxuriating in a mix of eucalyptus bubble bath with a lavender bath milk and forcing myself to relax for the first time since Aiden had followed Louise out of my apartment on Tuesday night.
I’d hoped that an everything-shower would help me feel a little more confident when I walked into his apartment. But by the time I’d finished in the bathroom, my skincare done and my body moisturised, I’d felt no less apprehensive about this than I had earlier that morning. If anything, all that I felt was a little tender after my heavy-handed tweezer usage around areas of my body that Aiden would hopefully become very familiar with.
Me:
SOS. Help.
Okay.
Not technically an SOS emergency, I’m fine.
Not dying.
But I need help.
If you’re free.
Becky:
LOL call in 5?
Sagging onto the foot of my bed, I stared hopelessly into my wardrobe, phone clutched in hand, as I waited for Becky to call.
‘What’s up?’ she greeted six minutes later.
‘I don’t know what to wear,’ I cringed at the whining tone that coloured my voice.
‘Does it matter?’ Becky asked, her mouth full as she crunched down the line. ‘Isn’t the whole point to take it off?’
‘Yes.’ I stomped up to the mirror, holding up a soft pink jumper, ‘but I still need to wear something to take off.’
‘Not really,’ Becky challenged.
‘Not helpful,’ I rebutted.
‘Okay,’ she conceded. ‘Switch to video and set me up somewhere I can see you.’ Tossing the jumper onto the “no” pile, I moved to rest the phone on the vanity table, across from the bed and wardrobe of doom.
‘I can’t believe I said “yes” to this,’ I mumbled, stepping back from the screen.
‘Me neither.’
‘Again, not helpful .’
‘Not helpful, but honest,’ she chirped. ‘But seriously, what made you decide to do it?’
‘Why?’ I looked up from where I’d been shimmying the fabric of a taupe midi-skirt down my thighs. ‘Do you think it’s a bad idea?’
‘Not necessarily.’ Becky frowned, chewing over her words. ‘It just seems… out of character? If that makes sense. It’s very different from your usual MO when it comes to men.’
‘You do it,’ I pointed out, throwing an accusatory finger in her direction as I pulled my skirt down over my legs.
‘Yeah, but just because it works for me doesn’t mean it’ll work for you.’ We were both quiet for a moment.
‘But what if what works for me isn’t working?’ I asked in a quiet voice. Giving voice to some of the doubts that I’d had over the past year.
‘What do you mean?’
‘I don’t know,’ I admitted, shaking my head. ‘It’s just that—well, I’ve been feeling stuck lately. I haven’t dated anyone since Daniel—well, not unless you count cancelling on that Tinder guy last minute because I was too nervous to go.’
‘Doesn’t count.’
‘Well, exactly,’ I shrugged, pushing my arms through the sleeves of a jumper I’d previously discarded. ‘But even if it did—I’ve never done anything like this, and it feels… exciting.’
‘It does?’
I looked up in time to see Becky arch an eyebrow. ‘Yes,’ I nodded, my voice muffled by the jumper I was working my head through. ‘Don’t get me wrong, I’m as terrified as you’d expect. But I spend so much of my free time reading about women who live and lead these passionate lives, and I guess… I don’t just want those stories to feel like escapism. I want them to feel possible. I want to be brave and do something daring—even if I only do it once.’
‘Oh, babe,’ Becky exhaled, her tone ladened with a pity that made bile burn in my throat. I shrugged, swallowing down on the acrid taste in my mouth. ‘But what if you get hurt?’
‘That’s the beauty of the contract,’ I said offhandedly.
‘I don’t think the contract can protect you if feelings get involved.’
‘That’s the whole point,’ I said, raising my gaze to the screen to meet her earnest expression. ‘The contract will stop that from happening.’
‘Charlotte,’ she chided, unconvinced.
‘Becky.’ I put on what I hoped was a convincing smile. ‘I need to do this. And if it all blows up in my face… well, you can tell me “I told you so” later.’
‘Fine,’ she sighed.
‘Anyway, what do we think?’ I asked, stepping into full frame and turning in a slow circle.
‘Ladies and gentlemen,’ she crooned in a terrible imitation of a southern drawl, ‘I think we have a winner.’
***
Raising my fist to the wooden door, my gaze caught on the silver 2C and the déjà vu of it all had my mind jerking back to the first time I’d found myself in this spot. I hoped this time would go a little better than that. At least this time I didn’t have cupcake on my face. Crap. Should I have brought wine or something? My fingers stuttered out a knock against the door. This was all proving to be far more nuanced than my books had led me to believe.
It didn’t take long for Aiden to answer the door, opening it and stepping to one side. I returned his small, awkward smile with one of my own and stepped into the entryway that was nearly identical to my own. I looked around as Aiden helped me out of my coat—yes, I’d worn a coat. It was November. I couldn’t very well leave the house without one. What if I needed it?
When I turned back to face Aiden, the nervous anticipation thickened into dread at the sight of his furrowed brow. I looked down at my outfit, smoothing the skirt in front of me and picking at a stray piece of cat hair that had somehow found its way onto my jumper.
‘Is something wrong?’ I asked, tucking my chin as my toes scrunched self-consciously in my boots. I felt Aiden’s exhale, warm against my face, and, in an instant, I was surrounded by his scent, tendrils of that leathery smokiness caressing my senses. I closed my eyes, breathing him in and enjoying the way the peppery undertones of his cologne warmed and burned my throat. It was only when a large hand came to rest on my hip that my eyes fluttered open.
The heat emanating from the splayed fingers on my hip seared through the fabric of my skirt, and I swallowed. Was it happening already? My mouth felt dry. No warm-up? No “how-do-you-do?” I swallowed, suddenly apprehensive as I tilted my head back to look up at Aiden.
‘You look incredible, Charlotte,’ Aiden said softly, as his gaze raked across my face.
‘O-oh,’ I blinked, cursing that all too prominent flush that stained my cheeks as the pressure of his hand against my hip increased. My wide-eyed gaze flitted back to his and my breath caught in my chest at the sight of his heavily dilated pupils.