Chapter 11
As predicted, the funfetti-tinis made Charlotte want to barf. The pink party cups Nina used to serve her monstrous creation did nothing to distract from its murky brown coloring.
Charlotte caught Jio discreetly pouring their bastardized vodka soda into Matt’s party cup. They gave her a helpless shrug before declaring “Delicious, honey!” and sailed over to kiss Nina’s cheek.
Jackie threw in the towel next. “I can’t do it,” she muttered. “I’m not strong enough.”
With a polite word to Nina, Matt excused himself for the bathroom. Charlotte guessed that his funfetti-tini would soon grace the communal bathroom’s sink.
“What did you guys do after brunch?” Amy asked. She perched on the edge of her bed, swinging her legs back and forth in white patterned tights. Her feet were fastened into mint green sneakers in preparation for the dance party. She looked like a life-size Polly Pocket.
Charlotte took a determined pull from her drink, awkwardness prickling at the back of her neck. Jackie plunged ahead for them both. “I took a nap,” she said. “Then Jio and I went to the clothing swap and got Taco Bell.”
Amy kicked her sneakers through the air. “Oh! What’d you get?”
“Gorditas, bitch.”
“I meant at the swap.”
Jackie waved to Charlotte’s outfit like a model presenting a prize on a game show. “Am I good or what?” If she sounded a little salty, only Charlotte picked up on it.
Amy smiled benignly. “I love that top! It looks brand new.”
“The school store had overstock, and this one was slightly damaged.” Jackie slipped a finger behind Charlotte’s neckline at the back and gave it a tug. “They sewed the tags on upside down and couldn’t sell them.”
When Amy turned away to ask Nina about the music, Charlotte bumped Jackie’s shoulder with her own. “Thank you for the outfit. It’s perfect.”
“I know,” Jackie said. “You’re welcome.” She tapped a sharp nail on her party cup, letting the silence stretch uncomfortably.
“And I really am sorry I missed the swap,” Charlotte said in a low voice, her eyes fixed on Jackie’s knees. “I wouldn’t have gone to the quarry with Reece if I’d known I would have to work today.”
Jackie sucked her teeth and shook her head. “I’m glad you’re spending time with Reece. That is not what this is about.”
Frustration and guilt boiled in Charlotte’s stomach, mixing about as well as the cupcake vodka and cream soda. “If I could have gone to the swap, I would have. You know that.”
Her best friend sighed, looking forlornly at the door. Then she straightened up and shook out her shoulders. “We’re going to talk before we leave tomorrow. But not tonight, okay? Let’s just have fun.”
“Jackie, shouldn’t we at least—”
Jackie turned and fixed her with a stern glare. “Charlotte, please hear me when I say not right now. This weekend isn’t just about what works for your schedule. I want to enjoy the party. Okay?”
The wind went out of Charlotte’s lungs. The only thing keeping her from spiraling out in guilt and panic was the fact that this wasn’t her fault. And now their fight would loom over this evening like a dark cloud. Nothing put her in the mood to party like a prescheduled confrontation. She scowled.
Jackie gently tucked a stray curl behind Charlotte’s ear, her lips pursed. Charlotte had kept her chaotic hair loose, the only statement accessory she needed. “I’m glad you left your hair down. It’s so beautiful these days. The scrunchie’s for dancing later, if you get sweaty.”
Charlotte recognized the peace offering. She’d take it.
She closed her fingers around Jackie’s wrist and gave it a careful squeeze. “Thank you.”
The door swung open. They both turned to look, Charlotte’s heart leaping to her throat. It was only Matt returning from the bathroom.
She hadn’t heard from Reece since their fraternization in the third-floor showers. Not a text message, not even a meme. She had been too busy in the library to dwell on thoughts of him, but every time the door to the pregame opened, her hopes went up that it would be Reece standing in the hallway.
She knew she could just text Reece, but she found an odd pleasure in tormenting herself. The college thrill of the chase was something special—not knowing when and where you’d see your crush, reveling in anticipation while checking in with each other throughout the night. What’s up? Where you at? Wanna come over?
This was even better than the undergrad game of cat and mouse. Reece wouldn’t stand her up or blow her off. She didn’t need to fear being abandoned at some party when a hotter girl came along. Reece was temporarily hers.
His availability scared her in college. Now she found it exhilarating. She knew who she would end the night with, and she could enjoy the in-between tension without feeling insecure.
“What about you?” Jackie asked Amy, who had been left on her own as Nina chided Matt for disappearing. “What did y’all do today?”
“Big soccer game on the quad! Then we went on a liquor run.” Amy tapped the side of her party cup.
“That reminds me.” Her perpetually sweet face sobered with concern. Amy patted Charlotte’s knee to get her attention. Charlotte felt a tendril of dread close around her throat. “We ran into Ben.”
She stiffened. So he was still here. Some optimistic part of her brain had convinced herself he was gone. He hadn’t surfaced last night on Atwood, and he didn’t seem to be staying in Randall.
But why would he fly in from Europe for one night? Of course he stayed for the weekend. Ben would never miss the Lawn Party.
“We didn’t speak to him, because gross,” Amy continued. “He’s probably here to hang out with his frat. I saw a bunch of those Sigma Delt guys on the quad today.”
Jackie settled a hand on Charlotte’s shoulder and gave it a squeeze. “You’re not going to see him,” she promised. “There’ll be hundreds of people there tonight.”
“It’s fine,” Charlotte said. Her voice felt tight like an overstrung violin bow.
Jackie poured Charlotte a gin and tonic from the bar on the windowsill, letting her wrangle her thoughts in peace.
My name is Charlotte Thorne. I am twenty-seven years old. I work atThe Front End Review. I am safe here.
Charlotte accepted the fresh drink and abandoned her funfetti-tini on the bookshelf. “Thank you for the warning,” she told Amy.
Amy nodded. “I don’t think exes should be allowed at reunions. They should all be like Eliza and move to Sudan.”
“Dubai,” Nina corrected her as she joined the group. She clambered up onto Amy’s bed, careful not to spill her frothy cocktail on the bare mattress. “And I wholeheartedly agree.” She gave Jackie a layered look. Then she finally took a sip of her drink and gagged. “Jesus, this is terrible. Why didn’t anyone say anything?”
Jackie took her cup with an adoring smile. “I’ll make you something else.” She left the funfetti-monstrositini on the desk. “How about a Jack and Coke?”
“Please,” Nina said.
Jio nosed their way into the circle, tugging Matt along by the belt loop. “What are we talking about?”
“Exes!” Amy chirped. She grinned at Nina, who rolled her eyes.
“Can we not?” Charlotte said delicately. What would be worse: more discussion of Ben, or for this conversation to veer in the direction of her postbrunch shower?
“Let’s talk about something other than relationships,” Nina decided.
“Let’s talk about dogs,” Charlotte suggested, and Jio nodded enthusiastically.
Jackie groaned. “Veto.”
Charlotte’s phone chimed.
TEXT MESSAGE FROM REECE KRUEGER TO CHARLOTTE THORNE, 10:05 PM:what’s nina’s room no.?
Her heart bleated with joy. Somehow it had only taken two days for her to grow impatient for his company. While she loved hanging out with old friends, the pregame felt like killing time before the evening’s main event.
As much as she loathed to admit it, she was starting to miss him when he wasn’t around.
“Reece is on his way,” Charlotte told the group. “This is room 218, right?”
Amy nodded.
“Can we address how good he looks?” Jio said. They waggled their eyebrows at Charlotte, who pretended not to hear them as she texted him back. “Talk about a glow up, goddamn.”
Jackie laughed. “Some of us may have noticed more than others.”
Charlotte elbowed her in the side.
“He finally figured out what to do with all that hair.” Amy touched the bangs of her own bob, imagining Reece’s dark hair spilling over his forehead. “Does he seem happy to you guys? It’s so hard to tell with him, he’s always smiling.”
“He’s finding his way,” Jackie demurred. Then she lowered her voice. “He finally broke up with that girl Jessica, thank god.”
“Oh, HER.” Jio squished up their face. “Vanilla pudding.”
Charlotte leaned forward. “Did you meet her?” She wasn’t eager to learn about Reece’s ex-girlfriend, but she wouldn’t turn down an opportunity to feel superior.
Jio laughed. “Didn’t need to. I found her Insta.”
The door swung open behind them. Charlotte’s skin rippled with heat as Reece materialized in the hallway. His eyes immediately found her atop the bookshelf, and his mouth went slack before soaring up in a grin.
She savored the sight of him looking her over. The silent moment lasted two seconds, maybe three, but a whole conversation passed between them.
There you are.
Finally.
“Hey there!” Nina called out.
Reece tore his eyes from Charlotte’s to greet his host. He gave her a brotherly squeeze. “Hey, Nina-bean.”
“We weren’t at all talking about your love life,” Jackie said.
Charlotte’s face burned. Reece looked at her over Nina’s shoulder, one eyebrow yanked up toward the ceiling. “Is that so?” he asked.
“I’ll get you a drink,” Jackie said. “Don’t touch the funfetti-tinis.”
Reece moved from Nina’s arms to Amy’s. “Thank you for having me, Amy.” He stood patiently as she fussed with his hair, still intrigued by his new cut.
Charlotte scooted over on the bookshelf to make room for him. When Reece sat down, he left a sliver of space between them for propriety’s sake, but his arm brushed hers as he accepted a Coke Zero from Jackie.
“Hi,” Charlotte said. She tilted her head to the side and gave him a shy smile.
“Hey.” He leaned over just so to bump her shoulder with his. “Nice fit.”
She proudly displayed the ragged hem. “It’s a bespoke Slaughter creation.”
Reece’s laugh practically sparkled. He found a loose thread at the cuff of her shorts and gave it a pull, the denim whispering against her skin. “She’s very talented.”
Charlotte preened. “How was Batty’s pregame?”
“Good. Weird. Everyone was drinking André.” He took a sip of his cold soda and groaned in appreciation.
She smiled, his joy contagious. “You’d think he’d spring for Veuve Clicquot with all that crypto money.”
Reece shrugged. “I guess everyone’s feeling nostalgic this weekend.”
“Warning: Objects in the rearview mirror may taste worse than you remember,” she drawled. He laughed and clinked his can to her glass.
Nina paused the music as everyone turned to face her. “How are we feeling? Ready to head down to the party? Or should we stay here?”
“I’M READY!” Jio cheered. Amy laughed and shouted her agreement.
Charlotte eyed Reece’s full soda. “Let’s finish our drinks?” she suggested.
“Okay, five more minutes and then we roll.” Nina pushed play on the music again. The room filled with the blare of saxophone as Carly Rae Jepsen’s “Run Away with Me” blared from the tinny laptop speakers. Reece hissed his appreciation and leaned back against the wall. His thigh pressed against hers as he relaxed.
Charlotte soaked up the satisfaction of this moment. The pregame was small enough to be cozy but large enough for the room to feel full. Jackie and Jio giggled as they coaxed liquid liner across Matt’s lash line. It occurred to her that this was another of those rare snapshots in time when she was exactly where she wanted to be. These people, this school, this night.
Her body never lost its awareness of Reece beside her. They had all the time in the world to enjoy this evening together: to dance and to flirt and to fool around until dawn if they could find a corner of campus to call their own.
Reece placed his free hand on his knee. His knuckles brushed the side of her thigh. She pressed her leg closer to his, a not-so-discreet Morse code of flirtation. I missed you.
He countered by snaking his arm behind her on the bookshelf, ostensibly to support his weight. His thumb teased the small of her back, rubbing against the thin fabric. Another message traded from skin to skin: I can’t stop thinking about you.
She longed to rest her head on his shoulder, to kiss his cheek and nip at the sensitive shell of his ear. Instead, she contented herself with smelling his sweat and fabric softener. Wholesome perfection.
Eventually Nina declared it time to venture forth. They made a halfhearted effort to clean the room, stacking used cups and shoving them into a shopping bag to recycle in the morning.
Reece offered Charlotte his arm. “Shall we, Charlie?”
She wrapped her fingers through the crook of his elbow. “Lead on, Krueger.”
The group ambled out of the dormitory and into the night. Jio and Jackie led the pack, following the booming echoes of music toward the heart of campus. The party would rage on the President’s Lawn well past midnight. Even when the music finally stopped under the tent, the revelry would relocate to Senior Housing until daybreak. Every year some smartass set off illegal fireworks and added the sirens of Campus Safety to the din.
This night at the end of the world was always loud.
Charlotte shuddered, not from the cold. Reece wrapped his arm around her shoulders and folded her sideways against his chest. “That better?” he murmured into her ear, his lips brushing her hair.
She nodded.
My name is Charlotte Thorne. I am here with Reece and my friends. The graduation ceremony tomorrow isn’t mine. The past is in the past.
I am where I belong.
Charlotte burrowed her hand into Reece’s back pocket. “Always so handsy,” he rumbled.
“My hands are cold too.”
Jackie whirled around and danced backward on the dirt path. She jazz-hands-ed through the air like a deranged tour guide. “Hurry up in the back,” she yelled. “No one gets left behind!”
Charlotte flipped her off. Jackie’s answering laughter bounced off the dark stone of the academic buildings.
The tent was a massive white structure erected behind the university president’s house. Tomorrow, RC staff would hastily unfold rows of plastic chairs and assemble them in lines across the grass. Friends and family of the Class of 2018 would watch the hatchling adults graduate from the safety of the shade. But tonight, the tent was dedicated to the crush of writhing undergrads and alumni in varying states of intoxication. They’d been invited to an annual bacchanal of celebration, nostalgia, and denial.
Charlotte clung to Reece’s arm as they stepped through the tent’s flaps. The temperature rose a solid ten degrees underneath the vinyl. It overwhelmed her immediately. The layout of the venue hadn’t changed: A bandstand stood along one side for the DJ booth, and a massive bar with multiple serving stations ran along the opposite edge of the party. Loose, long lines of customers waited at each station.
congratulations, class of 2018was projected on the inside of the tent’s roof. Colored lights cast strange hues across everyone’s faces. Skull-shaking sound poured from the speakers.
Charlotte took a deep, fortifying breath against the swell of noise and memory. Reece unwound their arms and took her hand in his. The simple gesture anchored her in the sensory overload.
She gave him a shaky smile. “This is a lot.”
“We can leave if you need to.” Reece kept his concern discreet, murmuring the offer quietly into her ear. “Just say the word.”
She knew he meant it too. If she wanted to leave, he’d turn his back on the party he drove twenty hours to attend and wouldn’t complain once. Reece was that kind of man.
“I’m okay.” Charlotte swallowed her nerves and nodded to where Jio and Jackie had claimed turf on the dance floor. “Let’s catch up.”
Reece shielded her from the din of the party and the anxiety it dredged up. His large frame cut an easy path through the crowd. Charlotte let him tug her over to their friends.
She focused on the way he held her hand—he did so like it was the most natural thing in the world. On their first go-around, she shied away from this kind of touch. Holding hands was a declarative statement at twenty-two. Sweet and territorial and public, a meaningful gesture in the world of campus hookup culture.
Tonight, she reveled in it. Her heart throbbed each time Reece peered over his shoulder to check that they hadn’t been separated. When they reached their friends and his hand swung free from hers, she found the urge to grab it back.
Amy cupped her hand around her mouth. “Let’s go up to the front!”
Jackie bounced on the balls of her feet at the suggestion and took Nina’s hand. Charlotte waved them on—the last thing she wanted was to get closer to the speakers. The party lights glinted off Nina’s gold hoop earrings before they were absorbed into the crowd, all trace of them vanishing. Strangers filled in the space the girls left behind them in an instant. Charlotte’s eyes swam with color, and she sucked in a ragged breath.
Reece squeezed her hand. She held on tight, letting him tether her as the party whirled and gyrated around them. He looked perfectly at home amid all the chaos, a blissed-out smile lazing across his lips. She only needed to follow his steps, sway with his sway, and keep her eyes on his face.
The song ended and another nostalgia dance track thundered out of the speakers. Jio hissed their disapproval. “LET’S GET DRINKS!”
Charlotte peered around. They were surrounded by tall bodies—she couldn’t see the bar, let alone the line.
Reece read the doubt on her face. “You two go ahead,” he said, waving Jio and Matt off. He pulled her back to lean against his chest, his arms wrapping loosely around her waist. They rocked from side to side to the beat as she melted back against him.
“Thank you,” she said when their friends were gone. “I really don’t want to move.”
“Me neither.” His voice curled around her senses, low and laced with desire. “Right here is perfect.”
His lips brushed her ear. She tilted her neck, nuzzling closer, her skin tingling everywhere his lips found.
Time lingered and swam. She didn’t count the minutes, focusing instead on Reece’s hands at her hips and the delicious grind of him against her ass. She twined her arms up to weave her fingers through his hair. When her nails grazed his scalp, he shivered despite the heat. Before long they were caked in sweat, surrounded and alone in the sauna of the dance floor.
Charlotte turned in his arms. She sought out his mouth, his breath spilling across her face. Reece’s tongue traced her lips and she opened for him, licking at his teeth. He yanked her closer with a muffled curse.
What a surreal fantasy: the pink and purple lights catching Reece’s profile, his breath ragged, his body against hers. Another unlikely moment stolen from the life she didn’t choose. The boy who was never her boyfriend gave her that look under the same white tent, only this time she didn’t run. She finally spoke this language.
She felt things. Her need for him was braided with lilac longing and neon red lust. Her heart rioted at the dangerous truth. She was out of shape for this kind of emotion, breathless and exhausted. She hadn’t trained. She was falling apart in the first stretch of a marathon love.
I feel—
Reece was made to be loved. It wasn’t just the cut of his face against the party lights. Reece was strong and funny and humble. He regulated the temperature of her anxiety like it was second nature to him. He walked four Pomeranians through the Missouri heat. He lost his dad as a teenager and still had the courage to let people into his heart, to let people matter.
He was so worthy of love and yet he never acted entitled to it, pleasantly surprised every time Charlotte touched him. He wanted nothing more than she could offer and deserved everything she had to give.
Someone bumped into her and she stumbled, tripping on her loafers. Reece caught her and kept her upright, his arms coming around her waist. One of his hands found the back of her neck, his fingers already massaging a knot at the top of her spine. She relaxed into him automatically, unable to stop herself, unable to protect herself.
“I gotcha,” he said, “Are you hurt?”
“Just clumsy. And buzzed.”
The crowd was a wild crush. Charlotte stayed close to Reece’s solid form to avoid the bros shoving their way to the bar. She followed Reece’s rhythm. His eyes were electric with happiness, infectious and fascinating. She couldn’t look away, entranced by the life she saw there. The life she wanted. The life she could have had.
I feel—
The speakers blasted another one-hit wonder from the late aughts. Sweat snarled her hair. This time tomorrow she’d arrive at Grand Central utterly alone. Her future was a wide, unforgiving question mark.
But right now, at least she knew this.
She was falling for Reece Krueger.
“Reece,” she said. His name twisted and caught in the blaring music.
He pulled her closer and she pressed her palm against his chest. “What?” he half yelled, leaning down to hold his ear at the level of her mouth.
“I—” She hesitated, her words inadequate.
Did people really do this? Did they just say how they felt, no prelude, no build up?
Charlotte curled her fingers around the edges of his jacket, holding on tight. “I just—”
He pulled back to study her face. Concern weighed down his brow. They weren’t dancing anymore, just standing close in the midst of so many strangers. She wondered what she looked like right now; could he read her? All that love and want and fear?
This was what love was: real love, the kind baked with respect and admiration and humor. She loved who she was with him, and she loved who he was every day of his life.
I think I’m—
Reece cradled her chin in his palm. Charlotte shivered as he brushed his thumb over the soft curve of her cheekbone, an inaudible noise escaping his throat. His dark eyes swirled with emotion.
Then, almost imperceptibly, his jaw tightened. Her breath left her as understanding and something that looked like wonder spread across his face. Maybe no one else would have noticed the difference, but she did. Her heart leapt in her chest, relieved and petrified all at once.
Reece found her right hand on his chest and wrapped it in his left. “I know,” he said roughly.
The raucous soundtrack of the night almost took his words from her, but she could read his lips. Charlotte clung to those two words. They were a promise and a lifeline, a miracle of second chances.
It dawned on her that everything he’d said to her in the last forty-eight hours meant the same thing.
Let me walk you home.
Please dance with me, Charlie.
I’m not letting you go. Not until I’m satisfied.
You’re the only girl I can see.
Everything Reece said to her told her that he loved her. She just needed to listen to him.
“I don’t want to go home,” Charlotte blurted out. It was the closest she could get to making sense of this, the sudden need she felt to crawl under his skin and never, ever leave. She didn’t know how to get on the train tomorrow and pretend she’d never discovered where she belonged. She’d been a fool to think this could only be a weekend—not for Reece’s sake, but for her own.
Reece frowned. He rubbed his thumb across the back of her hand. “Brooklyn’s not right for you,” he said as he stroked her heated skin.
“It’s not that.” She shook her head, desperate to dislodge the fog of her emotions. “I don’t want to not be here.”
But that wasn’t it either. It wasn’t this campus, or this party, or even her phone on silent in her pocket. Her sense of rightness had nothing to do with the light buzz of cupcake vodka. It was Reece’s touch, his eyes poring over her face, his smell swirling through her mind and making her heart scratch.
“I wish we could stay here,” she added, a desperate shot in the dark. “I wish I could do it all over again.”
The same color gradient of feelings she had sorted through all weekend spilled across Reece’s face: the yearning in his eyes for the same, the clench of his jaw as he understood it wasn’t possible, the desperation in his quickened breath to find a way regardless. Lilac and rust and crimson.
Even if he could put aside what happened five years ago, even if she could let him past her ivy-coated walls, even if they could trust each other to choose this properly and permanently…wanting was only half the battle. They were postgrad warriors fighting different battles. Her life was in New York. His was in Missouri.
The moment they stopped pretending this was only for a weekend, they had to abandon the blissful innocence of now and ask the question of when. When would they be together again? When would one of them gamble their life as they knew it to relocate?
Was that a risk either of them was willing to take? Would it work out, or was this yet another massive mistake?
Was this an insane conversation to have with someone you’d never even truly dated?
Reece swallowed, his throat dry. “Charlie, I—”
A bro collided with Reece’s shoulder as he shoved his way to the stage. The boy’s cup went sailing, dumping beer all over Reece’s jeans. “Sorry!” the guy shouted before barreling onward.
“Shit.” Reece winced and shook the alcohol from his leg. “This is my last pair of pants.”
Charlotte blinked, still waiting for the end of his sentence. But the spell was broken, the volume on the party dialing up a notch. The crowd had gotten thicker. She took a step back as Reece bent over to brush at the spill, and bodies pressed against her from behind, nudging her sideways.
“Let’s go find napkins,” she suggested, claustrophobic.
He nodded, and she gestured for him to take the lead.
The party reached its zenith, with hundreds of kids crammed side by side under the tent’s cover. Reece didn’t take her hand this time and she toddled after him, dodging elbows and wandering hands.
They found a stack of paper napkins on the far edge of the bar. Charlotte watched uneasily as Reece blotted at the wet patch on his thigh. “I’m going to smell like Pbr all night,” he said ruefully. “Eau de fraternité.”
Charlotte handed him a fresh napkin in exchange for the soaked wad of paper. “Didn’t you know?” she asked, deadpan. “That cologne’s all the rage this year.”
Reece flashed a thin smile. He pressed the napkin against the stain and scanned the crowd for their friends. The party was an amorphous blob of hipsters, their intoxicated faces blurring together. As the night went on, alumni shrank away from the noise and HU’s true students reclaimed the tent.
“We’re never going to find them again,” he said.
Charlotte studied his face in profile. The purple party lights deepened the shadows under his eyes, leaching his skin of its usual happy glow. She bit the inside of her cheek.
Me too. Charlie, I—
What was the rest of the sentence?
She hated this feeling: this anxious hunger for his attention. It was ridiculous—she wasn’t a teenager clinging to the smallest hint that he still wanted her. She didn’t want to regret speaking up, not when she so rarely asked for what she wanted.
But did it even matter? She knew all along that Reece’s affection was a library book checked out on loan. At the end of this, she had to give him back.
“They’ll pop up,” she said. “Jackie will get hungry.”
That earned a genuine laugh, albeit a soft one. She wanted to catch it and cup it between her fingers like a firefly.
Reece finally looked at her again, his dark eyes softening as he took in her hopeful face. The brittleness left his body and he leaned sideways against the bar, bringing him closer to her level.
It was ridiculous, how the slightest change in his body language calmed her down. His fingers toyed with the strap of her overalls, lightly tugging the denim.
“You’re right,” he said. “Do you want to get out of here? It’s so loud.”
“Oh god, please,” she all but moaned.
Reece grinned at her obvious relief and stood to leave. But then his smile vanished from his face. The light went out in his eyes as he looked over her shoulder.
Charlotte watched with dread as a wave of tension rippled through his body, his posture coiling tight. “What is it?” she asked.
What had she said wrong now? Paranoia flared bright.
Reece was still looking over her shoulder, his eyes narrowing.
A waft of familiar cologne settled in around her shoulders. The true eau du fraternité, base notes of cedar and white-collar crime. The blood drained from Charlotte’s face. Understanding arrived with sharp clarity.
No. Not you. Not now.
“Hey, Thorny!”
Her stomach convulsed. She knew that voice by heart. In truth, she’d never forgotten it. She heard it in her nightmares, and the dreams that woke her up guilty and ashamed at four in the morning. She suspected it would follow her to the grave.
Ben’s voice was slick and deceptively light. An ex-boyfriend’s taunt disguised as an old friend’s inside joke.
Reece searched her face, silently asking her what to do. But there was nothing really, nothing to make this overdue collision less awful. Nothing short of going back in time to undo the worst years of her life.
Charlotte’s body went rigid. The time warp was complete. Autopilot took over.
She turned around to face her ex-boyfriend. “Ben!” she cried out through the dryness in her throat. “Hi!” She sounded bubbly and shrill to her own ears, the chatter of a panicked flight attendant on a plane falling from the sky. A manic smile cracked across her mouth.
She couldn’t process all of him, not as the tent pulsed with noise and movement around her. Details lodged into her brain in staggered seconds: his slicked-back helmet of blond hair; his wide leer; the humorless darkness in his eyes. Ben wore the expensive black bomber jacket and dark jeans from the panel, too stylish for a sweaty college party, or for a supposed leftist activist. Beautiful camouflage to attract and trap.
An old desire flared in her throat, that quivering urge to debase herself for his approval, or for her safety.
“I was hoping I’d see you here,” Ben said in a feline purr. He took a step forward, his cologne overpowering. She couldn’t step back, couldn’t move at all.
“It’s me!” she chirped. “How are you?”
Humiliation curdled in her gut.
“Oh, you know.” The party lights glinted obscenely off his teeth. Charlotte’s hands twitched at her sides. “Same old, same old. Clawing my way up the podcast charts.” He winked, derision and pride dripping from his brag.
Revulsion streaked through her like the chemical aftertaste of Nina’s funfetti-tinis. Her brain’s last sliver of sanity urged her to run for the exit, but she couldn’t move.
Her mouth was on its own, survival mode piloting solo. “Good for you!”
Ben slouched against the bar. His eyes tracked down her body and back up again, taking in her sneakers and scissor-cut crop top, the roll of her late-twenties tummy. She felt devoured and insulted all at once. It was indecent, his stare. Beads of sweat collected at the back of her neck.
He sucked the light out of the tent, and the strength from her body.
“You look ravishing,” he said.
Ravishingwas one of Ben’s favorite compliments. He doled it out for the dress she wore at his fraternity formal, and for the Hollywood curls she painstakingly created before he greeted her at Rawls Tower. She remembered his hand loose at her throat as he kissed her shoulder, pushing her back against the door. You look ravishing, Charlotte. My little thorn.
Angry tears pressed against her eyes. She forced them back. His index finger traced a pattern on the bar and she felt it on her skin, running down her cheek and her neck and her chest and—
“Thanks,” she blurted out. Her face was red but her chest was full of ice water. “Thank you, you look great too!”
Politeness poured out of her like vomit.
She had to get out of here. She didn’t know how, she couldn’t think, she couldn’t—
Ben glanced over her shoulder, unimpressed and bored.
Oh god.
She forgot about Reece. She forgot about Reece and he was watching this and she had to get him out of here. She had to get out of here before she humiliated herself even further. She needed to be away from the noise and Ben’s eyes on her skin and the memory of obeying this man at her own expense.
Ben’s eyes flicked back to her, dismissing Reece without comment. “I thought that was you at my panel on Thursday,” he drawled, leaning closer. Charlotte’s skin crawled as he looked up at her from underneath his lashes, blue eyes flashing with amusement. “But you ran away too fast for me to say hello.”
The knife slid in easily, not even rusty. One last insult to remind her that he once knew everything about her, and he remembered. Shame tasted like blood, like the dying scream in her throat.
“Anyway, I should get going. Thomas is finding us some party favors. It was wonderful to see you, Charlotte.” He smirked at her, nothing but narcissism in his smile. His words dripped poison, diluting her consciousness.
She would burn her own name if it would leach away the sound of it in his mouth.
Time crunched and ground to a halt as Ben hugged her, his arms circling her waist. She felt her own hands rise up weakly, brushing the smooth fabric of his jacket. She got a nose full of his cologne and the fumes made her head spin. She couldn’t breathe, she couldn’t speak, she couldn’t do anything but stand there and play dead.
And then he sauntered away, disappearing into the crowd. But he wasn’t really gone. Ben was an oil spill, coating the world around him in a thick grime of self-loathing. Campus belonged to him now, again, still. Forever.
She’d been a fool to think anything had changed. She’d been a fool to think this weekend could be different. She hadn’t changed. Ben was right.
You’re so fucking pathetic, Charlotte, no wonder your family hates you, you’re nothing—
Charlotte’s throat flexed and tightened. Dread pumped through her bloodstream. Was she breathing? Did she want to breathe?
A hand touched her shoulder. She jerked away, twisting to face the new threat.
It was just Reece. His empty hand froze outstretched in the air. The world tilted around her as new shame joined the agony in her chest. Charlotte closed her eyes and grabbed on to the lip of the bar.
“Shit, I’m sorry, I—” Words got lodged and lost, the ribbon of her thoughts tearing.
“Are you okay?” Reece stepped forward and she shrank back. His face tightened with hurt. He looked so confused and upset and he didn’t deserve it; she couldn’t even look at him.
“I need to get out of here,” she somehow managed. “I can’t—I’m not—”
“Come with me.” He wrapped his arm around her shoulders.
Charlotte shuddered, her skin crawling, but she let him guide her from the bar. She focused on her breathing, choppy and shallow.
My name is Charlotte Thorne. My name is Thorny and I am twenty-seven
Reece murmured comforting words that she didn’t process. He found an exit and steered her through the tent flap into the cold air.
It’s 2018 and I’m at Hein and I am
Charlotte lurched forward. Her body folded over as she threw up into the grass. Reece caught her as she stumbled, a thick arm slung around her waist to keep her upright. Her hair swung into her face. She realized she was crying when she tasted salt along with vomit.
“Oh god,” she groaned, shuddering between heaves.
Reece made idle shushing noises. He collected her hair, ignoring the glaze of puke in the strands. “You’re okay,” he said. “It’s okay, sweetheart.”
Charlotte Thorne, thorny bitch, you look ravishing.
She’d thanked him. She’d thanked him. She asked him how he was and let him wrap his arms around her. She could still smell him on her clothes underneath the sour stench of her own weakness—
She retched again, the sickly sweet vodka and cream soda even worse on the way back up.
Reece’s fingers were hot at the back of her neck. He kept massaging and pressing and she didn’t want to be touched right now, not by anyone. Especially not him; she didn’t want his attention and his concern and his fucking kindness. She swatted his hand away, unseeing.
I am Charlotte Thorne and I am nothing, I am an embarrassment. Everyone leaves, everyone sees who I am and they leave and I go back, I beg—
“Get off me.”
She twisted out of Reece’s arms. Her foot hit one of the tent posts and she lost her balance, landing hard on her knees. She groaned as her palms hit the dirt.
Reece crouched next to her, and Charlotte flinched away, more wild animal than human. “Stop it,” she sneered, all raw nerves. “Stop touching me.”
Reece shrank back like he’d been struck. Guilt joined the murky swarm of emotions wreaking havoc in her mind, but she couldn’t deal with it, she couldn’t hold his feelings alongside her own. She couldn’t breathe.
Charlotte, how can you be so stupid? How do you fuck everything up? You are so annoying ravishing pathetic
The lid from the storage container labeled Ben was blown away, lost forever. His words came back to her without so much as a thin coat of dust. She could still feel his fingers on her cheek as he sipped pain from her lips. Was that five years ago or tonight?
Are you going to miss me, Thorny?
“Are you bleeding?” Reece again, still, his voice jagged with worry. “Charlie?”
Another voice joined the din in her mind, a crisp, feminine mid-Atlantic accent.
disgraceful
Charlotte clambered to her feet. Reece stepped forward to stabilize her and she jerked away. She couldn’t look at him, couldn’t let him touch her. She didn’t want to see it on his face, that he finally knew how broken she was. That he finally understood why she wasn’t good enough.
“I’m fine.”
“Are you sure?” His green eyes were almost black in the shadows of the tent. He reached out for her again and she took a step back. “Do you want some water? Should we go back to the dorm?”
Too many questions. She couldn’t think. Why did he still want to help her? Was this pity? Was he just that damn nice? Her fingers grabbed on to a rope supporting the tent post and held on tight.
“Charlotte?”
“Leave me alone. Please, just leave me alone.”
Her voice wasn’t the fawning, mewling plea from inside the tent. It was ice-cold and sharp as a diamond at the corners. Reece startled at her dismissal, frozen midstep with his hand outstretched. She bit down hard on the inside of her cheek. “I don’t want your help. I don’t need you.”
She turned her back to him and started across the Lawn. She didn’t have a direction, only away. Reece didn’t follow.
disgraceful
Shame clung to her like gasoline.
God help her, she sounded just like her mother.