Chapter 13 - Charlie
“S o, Cliff. I don’t mean to be rude but you look a little different than your profile picture.” I can’t help but blurt out. His profile said tall, dark and handsome but the man before me bears a closer resemblance to a hobbit than his supposed profile picture.
I really shouldn’t be surprised with how the internet works and the amount of false truths people put out there but still, I can’t help but be a little disappointed as there were a few things in his profile that genuinely seemed interesting.
“Oh, that picture was from a few years ago but it’s still me.” He says, clearly agitated from my accusation as he dabs his brow with a napkin, directing his gaze behind me.
The chair I’m in groans with the weight of two large hands bearing down on it. I don’t need to look to know it’s Porter standing and leaning on my chair, as his butterscotch and clove scent washes over me.
Moving to my side, he looks at me as he asks what I'll have to drink, telling him my usual and giving him a quick wink.
Before I can even think of a question to ask Cliff, Porter turns and leaves toward the bar, presumably to prepare my drink. Shrugging my shoulders at his peculiar behaviour. I try to ease the sudden awkwardness by saying, “Maybe he … Maybe he can’t remember more than one drink order at a time?”
Scoffing at me, Cliff's neck shows a slight tinge of pink as he says, “Yes, well he looks about as competent as a buffoon.”
“A buffoon? Really?” I grimace, my eyebrows raised, looking toward Porter as he returns to our table with my drink and an even deeper scowl than before.
“Charlie,” he grunts looking at Cliff, closely followed with a softer, “It’s just how you like it.”
I can’t help but smile up at him as he stands before me, our fingers grazing as I take the drink.
That brief contact is like an electric current sending vibrations through my body. I know this is all a bit weird but if Ace said it might help shake him out of whatever is holding him back, and he told me to spread my wings and see what’s out there, then I'm hoping it's the right thing to do. I can't wait around forever for him to decide that I'm what he needs.
“Charlie? I thought your name was Charlotte. I’m sorry, but Charlie is a little undignified don’t you think? You’re a woman for god’s sake. From now on you’ll use Charlotte. I don’t want any confusion about who I'm dating.”
At this point, I don’t know if I'm in shock over what he’s saying or if my mouth has lost all function and will forever have my jaw dropped wide open.
How dare this hobbit dictate anything to me. Clenching my fists, I’m about to throw my coke at him. Nothing like a drink to the face to sort someone’s shitty attitude out.
Pushing my chair back from the table, Porter, who is standing beside me, intercepts and gently lifts me out of my seat, moving me about a metre away from the table. He retrieves my drink and places it in my hand, making sure I’m holding it tight before letting me go.
The perplexity of his actions is enough for me to forget about what Cliff was saying and I try to reach out to touch his arm to get his attention. Before I get the chance, Porter’s back is blocking my view and I can see the tension rolling off his heaving shoulders.
For whatever reason, Cliff decides this is the moment all 5 '4 of him wants to take on a man almost twice his size in height and muscle mass.
Raising his voice he says, “Now listen here boy , you need—.”
Porter stands to his full height and cracks his neck, once on the left and then on his right, a little shake of his shoulders before the unmistakable sound of a snarl can be heard. For a split second, I wonder if somehow a bear has gotten inside the bar, but as I place a gentle hand on his back I can feel the vibrations coming from him.
“Forget her name. You won’t need it, because she's not yours. She's mine.”
He steps out of my reach and the table I was just sitting at moments ago is suddenly flying across the room. One swipe of his strong arm and it's now lying broken in a jagged heap. The lone barrier between the two men is now nothing more than firewood.
Did he say she's mine ?
Should I be so wet from witnessing this sort of thing?
Is this a normal reaction to seeing a hulking beast stand up for me? I was quite happy to give Cliff a piece of my mind but to have Porter stand up for me makes me weak in the knees. I can count the number of times this has happened in my life and all of them were my brothers getting in another guy's face over their treatment of me.
I didn't expect Cliff to be this different to the man I had been messaging, with the sudden expectation I would become what he wanted, without giving a second thought to any of my needs.
I should feel let down by the situation but Ace's suggestion gave me the excuse to test the waters and see how Porter would react. I can hand on heart say that I never expected this to happen, but is it wrong for me to also be okay with it? To make me want him even more for responding this way?
Cliff is standing his ground attempting to mumble out something. Holding his fists clenched by his sides like a child on the brink of a tantrum. Taking a final step toward him, Porter is now towering directly overhead so he has to crane his neck right back to look up at his face.
“Don't you know who I am,” Cliff says weakly, and I have to give him credit, I thought he would have run away by now. I've seen stronger men cower under less pressure.
Looking back at me for a second, Porter gives me a wink, a wink ! What in the seven Hells is going on here and why do I like it so much? It's like he's playing with his food and I’m the loyal dog waiting for him to sneak me a treat under the table.
Yes, I'm definitely wet from this.
Grabbing Cliff by the throat and lifting him clear off the ground, leaving his feet dangling in the air, all I can think about is that I didn’t realise you could even do this. The sheer strength you would need to lift someone in this capacity must be enormous. He definitely has sizeable muscles from what I've felt but I never really thought about the adonis that could be hidden beneath the dark clothing he wears.
A woman’s screams echo off the large room and I quickly go to Porter’s side, intending to stop whatever this is when I realise that Cliff is the one making the high-pitched sound.
What an utter disappointment he is.
Placing my hand on the strong forearm that holds Cliff in the air I pull down on it, trying to get closer to Porter’s ear, practically purring, “Put him down. He's not worth it.” With all of the chaos around us, I’m not sure he can even hear what I'm saying.
Tenderly reaching up, I cup his cheek and bring his focus back to me, almost instantly he releases his hold and Cliff crumbles to the floor. Clawing at his throat, I can't tell if he is trying to catch his breath or is sobbing, but if I'm honest, I don’t really care.
Taking Porter’s hand I lead him back toward his office, remembering the small hallway I went down the first night I came here. We pass a man I've not seen before who’s surrounded in shadows, he just nods at us and Porter throws him the set of keys from his pocket.
Pushing the door to his office open, I walk inside, a small metal lamp on his desk illuminates the room in a soft glow.
I make it half a step before he pulls my arm, turning and pinning me against the door, locking it as he presses his body against mine, his breath hot against the curve of my neck. Pulling away slightly, his eyes seem to be searching for something. Seeking some sort of clue that might make whatever decision he's looking for easier. His lips are so close to mine that I can almost taste how sweet his kisses would be, but I don’t move a muscle.
I can't.
This has to be his decision.
I could go all in with him. Really have a relationship. We're at the precipice of everything we could be and I’m so caught up in my own head that I almost miss the moment he growls, “Fuck it,” and smashes his mouth against mine.