The Charlie Method (Campus Diaries #3)

Chapter Twenty-Five Will

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

WILL

Erased like it never happened

N O MORE THAN FIVE MINUTES ELAPSE FOR THE REST OF THE WEEKEND without me thinking about Charlotte.

Her eyes smoky with desire.

Her mouth devouring mine.

Her perky ass pushing back against my dick while Beckett was tonguing her.

Hands down, it was the best sex I’ve ever had.

We woke up, and she was gone. Gone from the app. Profile deleted. It was a knee-jerk reaction on her part. I know that. I was with her every step of the way the night before, watching her responses to our touch. To the kissing. The sex. She was in her element. She loved every second of it, and she held all the power. She got both of us so hot that we couldn’t last more than five minutes the first time. It would’ve been embarrassing if not for the redeeming Act 2 in which we spent the rest of the night worshipping her body.

And then…

Erased like it never happened.

I have her phone number, but the fact that she deleted the chat speaks volumes. She gave me her number to talk about homework and coordinate after-class lab visits. It’d feel like I was taking advantage if I spammed her phone.

Now, I’m fifteen minutes from seeing her, and I find myself jittery during morning skate, to the point that Shane comments on it in the locker room after practice.

“Dude, why are you all jumpy? You keep tapping your foot.”

“I don’t know, maybe some of your ballroom dancing rubbed off on me,” I say sarcastically.

Although I can’t deny Shane killed it last week. He and Diana had entered an amateur dance competition that Coach made the entire team go and watch.

“Your pants were so tight,” Trager says, overhearing us. “Like, I thought your cock was gonna burst out of them.”

“You wish,” Shane says smugly before sauntering toward the exit.

Beckett appears from the steam-filled doorway, a towel wrapped around his waist. “You have lab now?” he says in a low voice. His class with her isn’t until tomorrow morning.

“Yeah.”

“Text me after. Let me know she’s okay.”

Charlotte’s been on his mind too. Charlie, I mean. Charlotte, Charlie. It’s hard to reconcile the two. But I suspect I know which one I’m going to find when I walk into the lab.

I’m right.

Her gaze is shuttered, indifferent, as I settle onto my stool. She’s wearing black leggings and a gray, belted sweater dress, her hair in a bun with two wisps framing her face.

She is so damn cute, and my groin clenches involuntarily at the sight of her.

I remember how tight she was.

I remember the way she moaned when she came.

When we were in the living room, she tried so hard not to vocalize her pleasure. I can still hear Beckett’s raspy voice in my head. Teasing her. Let us hear you, baby girl.

Fuck.

“Morning,” I say through the lump of pure lust clogging my throat.

“Morning.” Her tone is devoid of emotion.

“How was your weekend?”

Charlotte keeps her gaze on her textbook. “Good.”

“Mine was good too,” I say, even though she didn’t ask.

She doesn’t answer. She flips to another page.

I want to talk to her, but Professor Bianchi enters before I can. It’s rare of him to make an appearance in lab—usually Monica monitors our experiments. But we’re starting a new unit of study today, and much to my chagrin, Bianchi doesn’t stop talking for the next two hours. I swear the man has a hard-on for stem cells.

I sit there trying to listen, frustration building inside me. When class finally ends, my lab partner wastes no time gathering her stuff.

“Charlie,” I say.

Her jaw is tight. “Charlotte.”

“Sorry. Charlotte. Can we talk?” I frown at her cold demeanor, the way she continues to avert her gaze.

“I have a meeting with my capstone advisor,” she says, and I pick up my pace as I practically chase her to the door. “It’s all the way across campus.”

“Fine. I’ll walk you.”

She rejects the offer without even turning around. “No. You don’t have to do that.”

“I want to.”

“Well, I don’t want you to,” she says in a strained voice.

I know when to back down, so I don’t push the issue. That one anyway. But I do reach for her hand and stop her from scurrying away from me.

“Can you please just talk to me for three seconds before you go?”

She hesitates. Then dips her head in a nod.

We walk to a quieter area of the hall, where Charlotte fidgets with the strap of her oversize bag.

“I just want to make sure you’re okay,” I say quietly, searching her face. “You deleted the app, so Beckett and I were—”

She glances around at the mention of his name.

I stifle a sigh. “No one’s listening to us, Charlotte.”

Her teeth sink into her bottom lip for a moment before she lets out a hasty breath. “I’m okay. I promise.” Her firm tone and resolute gaze tell me she means it.

“We didn’t make you uncomfortable or…hurt you?” My stomach twists at the notion.

“Not at all.” The hard edges in her expression soften, smooth out. “Shit. I’m so sorry if I made you think that.”

I offer a rueful shrug. “I don’t know what I was thinking. I literally haven’t heard from you since you snuck out of the house yesterday at five in the morning.”

“I’m sorry. But you don’t have to worry.” Her voice drops so low I can barely hear her. “I had a really good time.”

“You sure?”

“Positive. It was…” She bites her lip again. “Fun.”

Her cheeks are bright red. If this weren’t such a tense exchange, I might tease her about it, but she’s still on edge, and I don’t want to scare her off.

“But it can’t happen again, Will. It was a one-time thing. And it needs to remain a one-time thing, so that’s why I deleted the app. I needed to…” She trails off.

“Eliminate temptation,” I supply.

“Yeah, I guess.”

“Because it can’t happen again.” I raise a brow. “For some reason.”

“No,” she says. “For a thousand reasons.”

“Okay, well, give me at least one.”

“Becauseitsnotnormal” is her hissed, unintelligible reply.

“What?”

“It’s not normal.” Jaw clenched, she meets my eyes as if daring me to contradict that.

But I was right there with her this summer. I backed away from Beckett and our sexual escapades because I thought the same thing. That what I was doing was wrong. That it wasn’t “normal.”

“Charlotte, listen, I know exactly what you’re feeling, okay? You liked it too much.”

Her mouth falls open. “Don’t flatter yourself.”

“You liked it too much, and it scared you, right? Because it goes against what ‘normal’ sex is supposed to be like.”

“It does go against it.” She rubs the bridge of her nose. “At least in the long term. It’s fun for one night, Will. But making it a regular thing feels…I don’t know…sleazy.”

A prickly sensation travels along my skin. “Yeah? What does that make me then? I’m sleazy?”

Shocked, she meets my eyes. “No. Not at all.”

I laugh without humor. “Look. Charlotte. I used to feel the same way you did. I basically avoided Beckett all summer because I felt that way. But I realized, after a lot of introspection, that there’s nothing wrong with liking what I like.”

“Will—”

“So if you truly believe what you’re saying, then…” I shrug at her. “Then you’re right. It’s better that we don’t see you again. I can’t speak for Beck, but society is judgmental enough as it is. I don’t need the girl I’m seeing to also be judging how we pass our time. Do you want me to delete your number?”

She looks stricken, as if she didn’t expect me to say any of that. “No. You’re welcome to text me anything school related.”

“Got it.” I take a step to leave. “See you tomorrow in the lab.”

The Mexican restaurant in town is quieter than usual despite the lunch rush, a small mercy considering the whirlwind of thoughts in my head. When I walk in, I instantly spot my stepmother at a table in the corner. Like Tessa Diaz, she stands out like a sore thumb in small-town Massachusetts. She’s DC from head to toe in an elegant black pantsuit, her ash-blond hair twisted into a perfect updo.

But though she looks like she belongs on a congressman’s arm, she also possesses a warmth that most of those DC bloodsuckers lack.

Her face lights up at the sight of me. “Hi, honey. It’s good to see you.”

She stands to give me a hug, and I don’t have to bend far to kiss her cheek. Kelsey is nearly six feet tall, only a couple inches shorter than me.

“Hi, Kelse. You look great.”

“Thanks, kiddo. Come. Let’s sit.” She takes my hand and guides me to a chair. “I’m so glad you were able to take a break from your chaotic schedule to meet me.”

“Hey, I should be thanking you. You’re the one who drove down here from Boston.”

“I know, but I’ve made this offer a dozen times, and it’s nearly impossible to get you to take me up on it.” Her pale green eyes twinkle to let me know she’s teasing.

She’s right. I rarely accept her lunch invitations, but that’s because whenever she’s in town, my dad is usually with her. Like me and Dad, she was born and raised in Boston. She visits her parents often and asks to see me every time, and the reminder triggers a pang of guilt as I remember all the times I’ve turned her down.

The truth is, I love Kelsey. She’s brilliant. Gorgeous. Successful. Funnier than she looks. A woman like her is wasted on my father.

I think my father is incapable of genuine connections. Relationships are strategic for him, based on status rather than mutual affection. He rarely lets anyone see beyond his carefully constructed exterior.

“You know how it is with hockey,” I say with an awkward shrug. “It’s a grueling schedule.”

She smiles knowingly. “And this is the first time all year that I’m in Boston without your father.”

Busted.

When the waitress arrives, we both order coffee. Kelsey asks for more time with the menu and waits until the woman is gone before giving me a concerned look.

“Alessia says you haven’t responded to any of your dad’s emails about Christmas.”

“You mean Alessia’s emails about Christmas? Because they’re sent from her email address.”

My stepmother sighs. “Maybe so, but the invitation comes from him. He really wants you to come home this year and stay longer than a night.” She flicks up one eyebrow. She’s one of those blonds with dark brows, emphasizing her striking features. “And don’t tell me your schedule won’t allow it, because Alessia checked, and your team has a full week’s break during the holiday.”

“You don’t have to guilt me,” I say, rolling my eyes. “I was already planning on it. Just haven’t had time to email back.”

“Good. I’m glad. It’ll be nice having you home.”

We pick up our menus, placing our orders when the waitress returns with two cups of coffee.

“Maybe you and your dad could do something fun one of the days you’re home,” Kelsey suggests. “Breakfast at the waffle house? Go find a pool hall?”

I can’t help but laugh. “The waffle house, I get. It’s prime photo-op territory. But a pool hall? Why? Is he trying to capture a new target voter demo or something?”

“Will. Not everything is a campaign tool. Your father just wants to spend some quality time with you.”

I tip my head in challenge. “Really. Did he tell you that?”

“Well, not in so many words, but—”

Another laugh pops out. “Kelse, I love you, but you don’t need to do this anymore. Retire the father-son-bonding matchmaking efforts. It never goes anywhere.”

“It will if you let it.”

I sigh. “Please don’t take this the wrong way, but I legit have no idea what you see in him.”

Her tone becomes wry. “Your father isn’t all bad. You’re just a bit too biased to see it.”

“Give me one example,” I challenge. “Make me understand it.”

That earns me a shrug. “I can give you plenty. I’m attracted to powerful men. I enjoy our lifestyle. I enjoy the discussions and debates we have—he’s highly intelligent and can carry a stimulating conversation, unlike a lot of other men I know. He’s a problem solver. I was having an issue with a case last month, and he sat in my office for hours talking through it with me. He’s not the most patient or affectionate man, but he has his strengths.”

“And he has his weaknesses,” I counter. “Like the fact that his image matters to him more than his family.”

She doesn’t argue that point.

“Anyway, one of the reasons I wanted to meet up today is to ask for your help,” I admit. “I need you to talk to Dad and tell him to back off.”

Kelsey nods in understanding. “The media stuff?”

“Yep.” I take a sip of coffee, the bitterness matching my mood. “He’s all over me to do these interviews, and he won’t back down. I agreed to the Capitol Magazine piece and that ridiculous TV segment, but that’s it. And suddenly Alessia’s emailing me saying Dad wants to set up a press tour for me in May. Right during finals. What the fuck?”

“He’s up for reelection next fall,” Kelsey reminds me. “And you know the drill, honey. You’ll need to show your face on the campaign trail. We both do. It’s important to him.”

“I get that. But college is important to me,” I say flatly. “I need to pass my final exams if I want to graduate. I won’t have time to be his poster boy. I need you to talk to him, okay? Tell him I’ll make my compulsory campaign appearances but not before graduation.”

She rests her chin on her hand. “You know how your father is. Once he’s set his mind on something…”

“Yeah, but you’ve always been able to get through to him. Please, you’re the only one who can talk him down. He listens to you. I need you to have my back on this.”

Kelsey is quiet for a moment. She’s always been difficult to read, at least when she doesn’t want to be read. Probably a lawyer thing. But when she speaks again, her voice is soft with emotion.

“You know I’ll always support you, Will. I’ve been where you are, trying to balance what you want with what someone else expects from you, so I’ll do what I can to get your dad to ease up, all right? I’ll talk to him.”

“Thanks, Kelse.” I feel a weight lift off my shoulders.

I might not call her “Mom,” but I’ve always viewed her as that, even if we don’t share the same blood. After my mother died, Kelsey stepped in and filled that void without hesitation. I trust her. In fact, I trust her more than my dad, who does share my blood.

She reaches across the table and gives my hand a squeeze. “You focus on school, okay? Let me handle your father.”