Chapter 12 Charlotte
TWELVE
CHARLOTTE
“Are you sure you don’t want to come? It’s going to be amazing.” Adrian waves the tickets like they’re golden passes to happiness. “The opening band is supposed to be really good too.”
“I’m sure.” I force a smile that feels like it might crack my face. “Really. You guys go and have fun.”
Sarah shoots me a concerned look from across the room.
She knows exactly why I don’t want to go out tonight, why I haven’t wanted to do anything all week. My body might be standing in this apartment, but my mind is still back in Koda’s cabin, wrapped in his sheets, his hands on my skin.
“You’ve been so quiet lately.” Adrian steps closer. “Are you sure everything is okay?”
No. Nothing is okay. I’ve spent every waking moment this week thinking about a man I can’t have, replaying every touch, every kiss, every whispered word.
And then today, just when I thought I might be getting a handle on things, Koda called.
His voice alone was enough to shatter the paper-thin composure I’d managed to build.
“I’m fine.” I tuck my hair behind my ear. “Just tired from work and school. Nothing a quiet weekend won’t fix.”
Sarah drops her purse on the counter.
“Shoot, I forgot my phone charger. Be right back.”
Then she disappears down the hallway toward her bedroom, leaving me alone with Adrian.
The moment she’s gone, Adrian’s expression shifts to something more intense. He moves closer, close enough that I can smell his cologne. It’s something expensive and trying too hard, just like him.
“I don’t like seeing you look sad, Charlotte.” His voice drops even lower. “Whatever’s going on, I’m here for you. You know that, right?”
I take a small step back. “Thanks, Adrian. I appreciate it.”
He reaches for my hand, his fingers cool against mine. “I mean it. My door is always open. Day or night. If you need to talk, or just... not be alone.”
There’s something in the way he says it that makes my skin prickle. Adrian has always been friendly—sometimes overly so—but lately, there’s been an edge to his attention that makes me uneasy.
“That’s really sweet.” I try to pull my hand back, but he holds on.
“I care about you, Charlotte.” His eyes search mine with an intensity that makes me want to look away. “More than you know.”
Then, before I can process what’s happening, he pulls me into a hug.
His arms wrap around me, holding me against his chest. He’s taller than I am, but nowhere near Koda’s height. Nothing about this embrace feels right. Not the pressure of his arms or the smell of his skin or the way my head fits awkwardly against his shoulder.
I give him an awkward pat on the back, hoping he’ll let go.
“Thanks, Adrian. Really.”
He doesn’t take the hint. Instead, he holds me tighter, one hand sliding up to cup the back of my neck in a gesture that feels possessive and wrong.
My heart hammers in my chest, but not in a good way.
This isn’t the thundering excitement I feel when Koda touches me. This is discomfort, pure and simple.
“Adrian,” I mumble against his shoulder. “I’m good. Really.”
He finally releases me, but not before turning his head to press his lips against my cheek. It’s not quite a kiss. It’s more like a lingering touch that lasts several seconds too long to be casual. My stomach turns.
“Text me if you need anything,” he says, his eyes intense. “Anything at all.”
A throat clears behind us.
Sarah stands in the doorway, phone charger in hand, her eyebrows nearly reaching her hairline. Adrian steps back quickly, looking not nearly as embarrassed as he should.
“Got everything?” he asks Sarah, suddenly all business.
Sarah’s eyes dart between us. “Yep. All set.”
I shoot her a look that I hope communicates everything I can’t say out loud: Help me. Get him out of here. What the actual fuck?
Sarah, bless her, reads my distress signal perfectly.
“We should hit the road. Traffic’s going to be a nightmare.” She grabs her purse and heads for the door, practically dragging Adrian with her.
“Remember what I said,” Adrian calls over his shoulder. “Any time.”
“Have fun at the concert,” I call back, already reaching to lock the door behind them.
The moment they’re gone, I sink onto the couch and exhale a breath I didn’t realize I was holding.
What was that? Adrian has always been a little too eager for my attention, but this felt different. More intense. More... deliberate.
My phone buzzes with a text.
DID ADRIAN JUST TRY TO KISS YOU??? WTF???
I roll my eyes and type back:
Kind of? On the cheek. It was weird.
Three dots appear immediately. She’s typing. WEIRD? It was fucking creepy. Has he done that before?
I consider the question. Adrian has always hovered on the edge of our friend group, more Sarah’s acquaintance than mine.
But lately, he’s been finding reasons to be wherever I am and showing up at The Summit during my shifts, appearing at the beauty school to “just say hi,” offering rides when my car was in the shop.
I type: It’s fine. Just Adrian being Adrian. Awkward but harmless.
Even as I send it, I wonder if that’s true. The way he looked at me tonight didn’t feel harmless. It felt like something else entirely.
My phone buzzes again. Sarah: If you say so. But I’m keeping an eye on him. That was some serious stalker vibes.
I don’t respond. My mind is already drifting back to Koda, to what he said on the phone earlier.
I miss you too, baby. So fucking much it’s driving me crazy.
The memory alone is enough to make my body flush with heat.
Adrian and his weird behavior are the least of my problems right now.
I push away from the door and head to my bedroom.
My work clothes feel suddenly suffocating.
I strip them off, letting them fall to the floor in a heap.
Then I head to the drawer where I keep my sleep clothes and pull out the smallest, most comfortable things I own: a thin cotton tank top that’s worn soft from too many washes and a pair of shorts that barely cover my ass.
I catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror. I look exactly like what I am.
A mess.
A sad, confused mess who can’t stop thinking about a man she can’t have.
I pad back to the living room, unable to settle. Energy buzzes beneath my skin like electricity looking for an outlet. I pace from the couch to the kitchen and back again, my fingers rake through my hair, tugging at the roots in frustration.
Koda and I will never work out. He’s way older than me, and he’s my dad’s best friend. Every path I can imagine leads to someone getting hurt, usually me.
My eyes land on the framed photos on the bookshelf. There’s one of me and Dad from last Christmas, his arm slung around my shoulders, both of us grinning at the camera. Another from my high school graduation, Dad looking so proud it makes my chest ache.
And one from years ago with Dad holding me on his shoulders at some fairground, Koda standing beside them with his arms crossed, looking younger but still intimidating.
Guilt washes over me in a wave so strong it nearly knocks me off my feet.
Dad trusts Koda completely. He’d be devastated if he knew what happened between us. What’s still happening in my head, in my heart, every minute of every day.
I turn away from the photos, unable to bear their silent judgment. My phone sits on the coffee table. I’m tempted to pick it up and call Koda back, to hear his voice again. Just once more. Just to get me through the night.
But what would I say?
That I can’t stop thinking about him? That every night this week I’ve touched myself while remembering his hands, his mouth, the weight of his body on mine? That I wake up reaching for him, the phantom sensation of his beard against my skin making me ache with want?
I toss the phone back onto the table and resume pacing. My thoughts spiral darker with each circuit of the room.
Maybe I should leave town. Transfer to a different beauty school. Start fresh somewhere Koda isn’t. Somewhere I don’t have to worry about running into him at the grocery store or at the Piney Creek Diner.
But the thought of never seeing him again makes my stomach drop.
I wrap my arms around myself, suddenly cold despite the warmth of the apartment. I don’t know how to exist in a world where I know what it feels like to be held by him, to be wanted by him, and have to pretend none of it matters.
A sharp knock at the door startles me so badly I nearly jump out of my skin.
I move to the door, peering through the peephole. My breath catches in my throat.
Koda.
He stands in the hallway with one hand braced against the doorframe like he’s holding himself up. His jaw is clenched tight, and his eyes are fixed on my door with an intensity that makes my knees weak even through the distorted glass.
For a moment, I just stare at him, unable to believe he’s really here. Then a second knock, more insistent this time, jolts me into action.
“Charlotte?” Koda calls out. “Open up. It’s me.”
I undo the chain with trembling fingers and pull the door open.
“Koda,” I whisper, his name a question and an answer all at once.
Koda’s eyes meet mine for a split second before dropping to take in what I’m wearing. His gaze travels slowly down my body—lingering on the outline of my breasts beneath the thin tank, the strip of exposed skin at my waist, the length of my bare legs.
When his eyes return to mine, they’re darker than I’ve ever seen them, pupils blown wide with desire.
His jaw clenches tighter, and a muscle jumps beneath the skin. The look on his face is primal, possessive, hungry in a way that makes me tingle.
“I tried to stay away.” His voice is a low growl that I feel in my bones. “I can’t.”
I take a step back, not in retreat but in invitation. Koda follows, moving into my apartment with the controlled power of a predator. The door closes behind him with a soft click. For a heartbeat, we just stare at each other, the air between us charged with electricity.
Then he moves.