Chapter 10
3 MISSED CALLS FROM ROGER LUDERMORE
Reece’s Jeep was messy with boy paraphernalia: Empty bottles of Gatorade rolled across the floor, along with lint rollers, a gym bag bursting with laundry, and what looked like a stuffed plush sheep in the trunk. In the back seat with Liam and Misty, Charlotte watched the dog immediately start sniffing every crevice of the car.
“She smells the Poms,” Reece explained as they drove back to campus. He caught Charlotte’s eye in the rearview mirror. “She’ll settle down.”
Garrett twisted in his seat to hand Misty a treat from a plastic bag. She took it obediently, her pink tongue giving his palm a thorough cleaning. “Misty loves the car,” he cooed like a proud papa.
“Put on some tunes.” Liam emerged from his groggy stupor to hand his iPhone to Garrett, who plugged in the aux cord. Tropical indie pop pumped through the car.
Charlotte rolled down her window and tilted her face into the breeze. It was a short trip back to campus and she let the music and the boys’ idle chatter drift by her.
“There’s a pregame in Batty’s room tonight,” Garrett said. “I figure we hit that up before heading down to the Lawn. Then the after-party on Atwood.”
Tonight was the big party on the President’s Lawn, where alumni and undergrads blew off steam on the night before graduation. Charlotte barely remembered her own class’s Lawn Party—her last night on campus was an ugly haze of gin and self-loathing. As an undergrad, she probably spent five minutes under the massive white tent before storming off to sulk alone.
Charlotte shook the memory away. The Lawn Party was another experience that demanded a do-over, this time with no drama and lots of dancing. There was always a better-than-average DJ and a cash bar run by actual bartenders, not just students from the RC committee. Hopefully it’d be like last night’s disco at Acronym, only with Reece beside her. She’d finally get the Hein farewell she deserved.
Misty crawled across Liam’s lap to sniff at the window. He patiently hugged her around the waist so that she could stick her muzzle into the wind without tumbling to a pavement-related death.
“What’re you up to tonight, Charlie?” Reece watched her reflection in the mirror again.
“Eyes on the road, Krueger,” she commanded, and he smirked but obliged. “There’s a pregame in Nina’s room. She’s somewhere on the second floor. I’m sure you’re all welcome if you want to drop by. She’s making funfetti-tinis.”
“What’s a funfetti-tini?” Liam enunciated every syllable with relish.
Charlotte smiled—the third bro in Reece’s trio was quite fun when he was conscious. “Cream soda mixed with cupcake-flavored vodka.”
Garrett gagged in the front seat.
“It’s gross,” she granted. “We’ll probably have a sip for nostalgia’s sake, wonder out loud how we ever drank such garbage, and then go back to beer.”
Reece palmed the steering wheel as he turned into the campus parking lot. “You have arrived at your final destination. Please remember to take all personal belongings with you.”
Charlotte made sure Misty was safely installed in Liam’s arms before she opened the door. Reece fell into step beside her on the long flight of stairs to the rear entrance of Randall. He pressed his hand to the small of her back as she climbed the crumbling stone steps. The chivalrous gesture must have been automatic for him, but even the suggestion of his fingers against her body made her wish they were alone. It would be hours before she could revel in his touch again.
“I still can’t believe you drove all the way from Missouri,” she said, shaking off her horniness. “How long did it take?”
“I think like twenty hours on the road, with a stopover at my aunt’s place in Philly.” Reece shrugged. “It was nice. I love road trips. They give you time to think, time to listen to podcasts…” His thumb rubbed at the small of her back. “Time to mentally prepare yourself to see your ex.”
“Touché,” Charlotte said, a little embarrassed.
“I’m just teasing you.” Reece slid his hand into her back pocket. The gesture was wonderfully possessive, and it drew her hip closer to his. His lowered his voice and asked, “What are you up to now?”
Before she could read his face, he stepped back to hold the door open. She let Liam and Garrett pass by as she considered her answer. The boys continued into the stairwell and up to the third floor where they were staying, leaving them alone.
Reece was staring at her mouth. It took a great deal of concentration to remember he’d asked her a direct question.
“Jackie hasn’t texted me back. She must be asleep.” Reece nodded at the underlying message of her words: My room is occupied. “And I need to get the pond scum out of my hair.” She smelled more like Misty than was typically considered attractive by polite society.
“A shower sounds amazing.” Reece ran a hand through his own hair. A disloyal cowlick sprang up at the back of his skull. “We have spare towels if you don’t want to wake her up.”
Charlotte’s skin warmed as she picked up on the subtext of Reece’s offer. “Are you suggesting what I think you’re suggesting?”
Reece studied the pink glow spreading across her chest. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, Charlie.”
“Yeah, sure you don’t.” She rolled her eyes, her face hot. “Lead the way, Krueger.”
Reece and Garrett’s room was just as chaotic as the Jeep. What looked like an entire Target men’s section had exploded on Reece’s side. Misty curled up on a foam pad under Garrett’s lofted bed, chewing a bully stick.
Liam and Garrett were in the middle of a heated debate about a playlist. They didn’t look up from Garrett’s computer when the door opened. Reece grabbed two towels from a huge pile on the bookshelf as Charlotte hesitated in the doorway.
“How did you guys get so many towels?” she asked.
“Garrett has an in on the RC committee,” Reece explained. She gave him a disapproving look, and he laughed. “Nothing creepy. His sister is a junior.”
“Oh awesome, I didn’t know.”
“Gov major,” Garrett supplied without looking up from the laptop. “Imani’s going to be a senator someday.”
“Right on,” Charlotte said.
Reece picked up a hairbrush and a travel kit of toiletries. He tossed her the brush and folded the towels under his arm.
She began the arduous process of brushing out her wet snarls as she followed him down the hallway.
The third floor had a communal bathroom that served the entire hall. She looked around at the floor-to-ceiling brown tile and thought longingly of her shower shoes downstairs.
Reece staked out the last stall. He lined up his products on the shelf and shucked off his shorts. After he turned the water on, he peered back at her from behind the plastic curtain. “Come on in, Charlie. Water’s warm.”
Well, when at Hein.
Charlotte kicked off her loafers and put them on a bench outside the stall. Then she wriggled out of her clothes, the denim of her jeans sticking to her legs. They were the only people in the bathroom, so she peeled off her underwear and sports bra before hopping into the stall behind him.
The sight of Reece standing in the shower killed any hesitation she felt about bathing with someone else in public. The water ran down his body like a blessing. It slid in tendrils from his hair and along the back of his neck. Droplets arced between his shoulder blades and down to the ripe swell of his ass.
Charlotte had to admit it: She was an ass woman. She wanted to bite down on his firm cheek.
Reece made room for her under the showerhead. She shivered with delight as the hot water kissed her face. He handed her a little bottle of hotel shampoo. “You go first, you’ll take longer.”
She squirted a splatter onto her palm and rubbed it across her scalp, staying under the water to let it foam. Then she stepped back and let him wash and rinse. The soapy water trailed down his chest and caught in the thicket of hair beneath the V of his hips.
“See something you like?” Reece licked water from his lips as he smiled.
“No comment.”
“Your turn, rinse.”
The water felt divine on the knots in her shoulders. She coaxed the shampoo out of her hair and rolled her head from side to side on her neck. “You sore?” Reece asked, his face pink. From the hot water, of course.
“Just my neck,” she said. She took the conditioner from his hand and lathered it through her mane. “Nothing new. It’s from sitting at a desk all day.”
“You’re not…from last night?” Concern suited him well, endearing worry lines at the corners of his eyes. He would look at her just like that at the end of a hard day at work, putting on a pot of tea to boil as she told him about Roger’s latest ego trip. Reece radiated Boyfriend Energy.
You don’t get to keep him, you ninny. You’re just having fun.
Charlotte stepped forward and backed him up against the tile. “I’m fine.” She trailed her hand down his neck and chest to the soft expanse of his stomach. His abs tightened underneath his belly, a low hiss escaping his throat.
She kissed him first this time, deep and unhurried. She ran her tongue along his lower lip and he opened for her. His lips smelled like the coming summer, sunscreen and the earthy flavor of Cobalt Pond. She moaned and Reece caught the noise, weaving his hands through her wet hair.
The sensual moment ended when his fingers got stuck in a knot. She winced, jerking back automatically. “Oh god, I’m sorry!” Reece blurted out. “Are you okay?”
“Happens all the time,” she said, rubbing the smarting spot on her scalp. “Just give me a second.”
Regretfully, she returned to the task of combing the conditioner through her hair with her fingers.
Reece watched the water cascade down her body, unbothered by the break. If anything he got harder as he watched a droplet pool at her nipple and fall to the floor like dew from a flower petal. He swallowed, his Adam’s apple bobbing. She didn’t have any room to doubt his feelings, he was so transparent and unapologetic.
“Okay,” Charlotte said when she was satisfied with the state of her hair.
Reece was on her in a heartbeat. He knitted himself to her, one knee nudging between her thighs as he crushed her against the shower stall. She wrapped her arms around him, fully submitting to public indecency. It had been nearly impossible to keep her hands off him in front of the guys all afternoon. All she wanted to do was crawl into his lap and rub herself against him like a sexually frustrated freshman.
His lips tore from her mouth to ravage her neck, licking and then sucking hard. Reece created a path of inflamed, red destruction from just below her ear to her breasts and then down her stomach. Charlotte’s heart leapt into her throat as he settled on his knees below her on the tile.
“You’re going to get knee fungus,” she blurted out.
Reece huffed a laugh, his hands coming to rest on her hips. “I’ll survive.” He nosed against her inner thigh, encouraging her to spread her legs for him. When she widened her stance, he groaned. “I’ve wanted to do this all day.” He stroked across her wet folds with his fingers before leaning forward to kiss the tender hood of her clit.
Charlotte tried not to cry out but she failed, the sound echoing across the tile. She managed to hold in her next wail when his tongue traced her seam and delved inside for a taste. She grabbed his hair, wobbling on her feet. “Reece, I—oh.”
He guided her leg over his shoulder. She held on to the top of the shower stall, splayed open for his exploration.
“You taste incredible.” Reece slid a finger into her heat, and then another. She shuddered around him, the combination of his words and his touch sending waves of pleasure through her body.
His tongue was indefatigable, lapping and pressing against her clit until she couldn’t keep her eyes open—and she really wanted to, she wanted to watch the determination on his lovely, angular face.
Reece watched her quiver and shake. His eyes were dark and eager, sending an additional thrill of lust up her spine. A third finger joined the first two and she wanted to scream, she wanted—she could explode with how much she wanted.
She wanted to come. She wanted to fuck. She wanted Reece. She wanted him because he was gorgeous and kind and very, very sweet. She wanted to know all of him—his secrets and his weird phobias and his favorite foods and the way he talked to himself when he thought he was alone. She wanted to know all the things she didn’t bother with in college, the details that made someone a person. She wanted his full story.
She wanted to tell him that this wasn’t the plan, it really wasn’t, but she’d never been good at plans anyway. All her best-laid plans were disasters and maybe what she really wanted was to start over from scratch. To be as fresh and open-ended as the hungover graduates who tomorrow would doze under the sun as Roger droned on about his own success. She wanted to seize her diploma and do it all over again, do it right.
Reece bit her inner thigh. He never slowed the unforgiving thrust of his fingers inside her even as he took a break to breathe. She grunted at the pain, her arousal dripping down her legs with the water. When Reece’s tongue teased her clit, she could feel herself tensing and bracing, reaching the brink.
She’d never been so aware of her smarting skin and her tensing spine and her hungry, gushing need across Reece’s face. She could see the sheen of her pleasure on his mouth and cheeks and something about how filthy that was pushed her over the edge, her entire body quaking.
Reece didn’t stop, tightening his hold on her hips as he lapped her up. He only relented when she moaned, overly sensitive, and began to slide down the wall.
“I gotcha,” he murmured. He stood in one smooth motion to catch her and hold her steady. “I gotcha.”
Charlotte yanked him down to her height for a kiss, desperate to taste herself on his lips. Desperate to commit this moment to memory. She shook under the hot rush of the shower and the aftershock of her orgasm.
Reece laughed into her mouth as her fingers scrambled against his slick back, wanting him closer but unable to find purchase. “Easy, Charlie,” he murmured, guiding her back against the wall once more.
She changed tactics and drove her hand into his wet hair, fingers pressing against his skull. If she kissed him hard enough, surely she could swallow him up and keep him with her forever.
You don’t get to keep him. He’s not yours.
The door to the bathroom swung open, its metal knob slamming into the tile. Giggles bounced off the walls, a conversation in progress. Charlotte stilled against Reece, her wide eyes finding his.
“We should go before we run out of hot water,” he whispered, his lips finding the shell of her ear.
She shuddered, arching her neck as his breath met her damp skin. “You go first,” she said. “I’ll see you later tonight?”
Reece pressed a kiss to her neck, and then another to her shoulder. “Definitely.”
He stepped back to kiss her properly one last time, and then he winked and stepped around the shower curtain. He wrapped himself in a towel before giving her a jaunty wave and leaving the stall.
Charlotte locked the door behind him and slithered back into the shower. She stayed under the hot water until her legs stopped wobbling, still feeling ravenous and shaky. The image of Reece’s hungry mouth between her thighs wouldn’t let her go and she curled her fingers around the top of the stall, letting the shower beat against her back. She breathed in the steam and held it in her chest.
The girls left the bathroom, banging the door into the wall again on their way out. Charlotte turned off the water and shook out her hair. She did her best to squeeze out the excess water as she coiled her hair into a thick rope.
The bathroom was blissfully empty when she left the stall. Her iPhone sat on top of her clothes, returned to her possession like a magic trick. When she picked it up, a deluge of notifications swam across the screen, all from Roger.
1 NEW VOICEMAIL FROM ROGER LUDERMORE, 4:41 PM
Her reprieve was over.
Charlotte padded barefoot into the hallway and down the stairs, wincing as her feet went from clean-ish tile to grungy carpet to rubber steps. She pinned her cell phone between her cheek and shoulder as she listened to Roger’s message.
By the time it was over, she stood frozen in front of her dorm room.
“I don’t know where the fuck you are, but something’s come up, so I’m gonna need you to write my speech. Use Peter’s notes, whatever, you already know what I want to say. Get it to me by midnight. Don’t make me sound like a pussy. And remember, Charlotte—I give my recommendation to the art department on Monday.”
Shit.
She checked the time—4:50 p.m. That gave her seven hours to come up with an entire commencement address if she skipped the clothing swap, dinner, Nina’s pregame, and the Lawn Party.
She would make this work, she had to. If she started now, she could work through dinner and bang out a mediocre draft by nine. It didn’t have to be good, it just had to be…vaguely commencement-address-shaped. Roger would rewrite it anyway, he just needed a template.
She could do this. She wrote his tweets, didn’t she? This was just…. several hundred tweets.
Jackie would understand if she skipped the clothing swap. They’d have the rest of the night together. If Charlotte could just explain, everything would be fine.
She quietly let herself into their room, easing the door open and shut in case Jackie was still asleep. But the covers were thrown off the other bed, clothing scattered across the floor.
Her phone trilled.
TEXT MESSAGE FROM JACKIE SLAUGHTER TO CHARLOTTE THORNE, 4:55 PM:where are you? I went early to help set up, these kids are so trendy I can’t stand it. conrad hall lounge, come quick before the good stuff is gone!!!
Oh, this was not good. This was very not good.
But what could she do? She couldn’t risk the department transfer. It was her only hope of staying at Front End without completely losing her mind.
Wouldn’t Jackie prefer she skipped the clothing swap so that they could go out tonight?
Sure, Charlotte didn’t like it. But this was her job. And she was here to work.
TEXT MESSAGE FROM CHARLOTTE THORNE TO JACKIE SLAUGHTER 5:07 PM:Change of plans, Roger’s making me write his speech for tomorrow. Heading to Mead Library to crank it out. I’m so sorry but I will see you at Nina’s! We will dance it out!!
TEXT MESSAGE FROM JACKIE SLAUGHTER TO CHARLOTTE THORNE, 5:21 PM::/
TEXT MESSAGE FROM CHARLOTTE THORNE TO JACKIE SLAUGHTER, 6:12 PM:Do you remember literally anything our commencement speaker said? I swear I have no memory of them, there’s a blank void in my mind.
TEXT MESSAGE FROM JACKIE SLAUGHTER TO CHARLOTTE THORNE, 6:31 PM:no
TEXT MESSAGE FROM JACKIE SLAUGHTER TO CHARLOTTE THORNE, 7:33 PM:u gonna make it to dinner? we’re getting taco bell
TEXT MESSAGE FROM CHARLOTTE THORNE TO JACKIE SLAUGHTER, 7:38 PM:Still working, I’ll grab something from the vending machine.
TEXT MESSAGE FROM CHARLOTTE THORNE TO JACKIE SLAUGHTER, 9:05 PM:Finished! Where are you?
TEXT MESSAGE FROM JACKIE SLAUGHTER TO CHARLOTTE THORNE, 9:11 PM:nina’s
TEXT MESSAGE FROM JACKIE SLAUGHTER TO CHARLOTTE THORNE, 9:11 PM:left something out for you
Charlotte couldn’t say her commencement address was any good. She was by no means a compelling writer, and Roger Ludermore was about as far from an inspiring role model as a person could get. The draft she sent her boss was a mess of clichés, bullet points, and bland remarks borrowed from other commencement speakers, rewritten just enough to pass the smell test. It would not win any awards.
But it existed, and she turned it in well before Roger’s midnight deadline.
As she unlocked the dorm room, she felt if not proud of her output, then at least gratified that she’d salvaged the rest of her evening. Jackie’s text messages were clipped but not hostile, and she could work with that. Sure, Charlotte wished Jackie had waited to get ready with her, but she couldn’t expect her to sit around all night in an empty dorm room. And also, yeah, Jackie’s feelings were valid. She had the right to be ticked off. But they were both adults, they’d be fine. They’d been here before.
It would all be fine.
And then Charlotte saw her bed.
Jackie had laid out an entire outfit for her. A heather gray crop top with the Hein crest on the breast pocket, paired with distressed black denim overalls cut at the thighs into shorts. She’d even put out clean white ankle socks beside Charlotte’s sneakers, and a pink scrunchie to tie her hair back if she needed to.
Charlotte rubbed the fabric of the shirt between her thumb and index finger. Pure cotton, never worn from the looks of it, also cropped by hand. She turned to the trash bag hooked at the end of her bed and—ah, yes. Discarded denim and gray fabric.
Jackie had made this for her.
Simple. Comfortable. Sexy but not too feminine, not complex or colorful. The perfect outfit to dance in. The perfect outfit for her.
TEXT MESSAGE FROM CHARLOTTE THORNE TO JACKIE SLAUGHTER, 9:30 PM:Thank you so much. On my way up now.