The Charlie Method (Campus Diaries #3)

Chapter Fifty-Eight Charlotte

CHAPTER FIFTY-EIGHT

CHARLOTTE

Is this real?

“W AIT . S O BY SAVING THE DOG, HE ’ S NOW IN A COMPLETELY DIFFERENT timeline, but the characters in the new timeline still know who he is?”

“Exactly.”

“Does nobody in this franchise understand basic causality? Butterfly effect? You change one thing, and everything changes. That’s Time Travel 101.”

Beckett chuckles, giving me a sideways glance. “Baby, stop talking about causality. I can’t concentrate if my dick is hard.”

I hoot with laughter. It’s Sunday night, and we’re lounging on the couch, halfway through this gloriously terrible time travel movie. On-screen, the main character just accidentally traveled back to 1985 again , somehow changing the course of history by saving a dog.

Beckett reaches over and grabs a handful of popcorn from the bowl on the table, still grinning. “I gotta say, this might be the worst time travel movie I’ve ever watched. And that’s saying something, because I’ve seen a lot.”

“What about the one we watched last week where the guy could only travel back two minutes and somehow still managed to stop a nuclear war?”

“Oh, true. That one was special.”

I unpause the movie, and we make it about three whole minutes before I pause it again.

“Beck!” I whine.

The main character randomly reappeared in the same diner, in the exact same chair, for the third time.

“What?” he says, munching on another mouthful of popcorn.

“Am I just supposed to sit here and pretend that time dilation doesn’t exist? Because if time travel is possible—”

“I’m sorry, did you say if ?”

“—then you’d be dealing with time dilation and relativistic effects. If you’re moving through time, you’re also moving through space , right? So the earth is rotating, it’s orbiting the sun, the sun’s orbiting the galaxy. You’re not going to land in the same spot every time you go back. You could end up in the middle of space.”

“You’re right. It’s a travesty that this low-budget movie didn’t address all this.”

“And where’s the paradox resolution?” I say as if he hadn’t spoken. “There should at least be some catastrophic time loop or, I don’t know, an explosion of the universe.”

“Sugar puff. I say this with all kindness, but…I can’t believe I live with such a massive nerd.”

“Thank you.”

“Wasn’t a compliment.”

“You said it was with kindness!”

“I fucking lied.”

There’s a sudden knock on the door.

We both freeze for a moment, glancing at each other.

“Were you expecting anyone?” I ask.

He shakes his head. “Nope. And nobody buzzed in downstairs.”

“Maybe it’s a murderer.”

“Why was there hope in your voice when you said that?” Chuckling, Beckett stands up and cracks his knuckles. “I’ll go check it out alone. You know, just in case it is a murderer. That way, at least you’ll have a chance to escape. I’ll heroically sacrifice myself.”

“That’s so noble of you.”

“I live to serve.” He winks at me as he heads for the hallway.

I listen to his footsteps. I hear the door open. And then…there’s nothing.

I assume he already sent whoever it was away and is now trying to scare me, but the silence drags on long enough for concern to spark in my gut.

“Beck? Who is it?” I call from the couch.

He doesn’t answer. But then I hear footsteps again.

My breath sucks in sharply when Will walks into the living room.

I jump up from the couch so fast, I almost trip over the blanket. He’s here . Like, actually here .

Without thinking, I rush across the room and throw my arms around him, burying my face in his shirt. That familiar spicy scent fills my nostrils, and I desperately inhale it into my lungs. I missed his smell so much.

“Oh my God,” I say. “Is this real? Are you really here? Are you here to stay?”

His arms wrap around me, and I feel his heartbeat hammering against my cheek. “Yes. I’m here, and I’m staying.”

Behind me, I hear Beckett chuckle. “About bloody time, mate.”

Will’s voice thickens with remorse. “I know. I’m sorry it took me so long. I had to figure some things out.”

I don’t want to let go, but I release him so I can search his eyes. “What things?”

Interjecting, Beckett claps him on the shoulder. “I’ll get you a beer. You look like you could use one.”

But I know Beck well enough to understand—he’s giving us a minute alone. He disappears into the kitchen, leaving Will and me standing in the middle of the living room.

“I missed you so much,” I tell him. I reach for his hand, a swirl of emotions running rampant inside me.

“I missed you too.” His words are lined with gravel. He clears his throat before continuing. “I love you. And I can’t live without you. Every day away from you—away from both of you—felt wrong.”

“What about the campaign? The job? You didn’t enjoy it?”

“I hated it,” he admits. “DC is the most cynical, corrupt place I’ve ever been. I don’t regret taking the job, though. I needed to experience it, to understand why I’m not suited for it. But even if I loved it, I wasn’t about to stay. I can’t be away from you. I need you, Charlie. I need you like air.”

Tears well up in my eyes, and I don’t even try to blink them away. “I missed you every single day you were gone.” I hate how vulnerable I sound, but it’s the truth. “I thought maybe you were done with me. With us.”

“Never.” He shakes his head, his thumb brushing away the tear that’s fallen down my cheek. “I just needed to figure out how to be with you. How to be okay with what we have.”

Before I can respond, Beckett returns, holding a beer. But there’s no tension, no awkwardness. Just…us.

Will turns to him, a serious look on his face. “I’m sorry it took me so long to get here. I missed you guys.”

Beckett’s gray eyes soften. Then he smirks, handing Will the bottle. “Well, lucky for you, we’ve missed the hell out of you too. C’mon. Have a seat.”

Will glances toward the TV, a slow grin spreading across his boy-next-door face. “So. What are we watching?”