20. WILLIAM
WILLIAM
I see the party going around me. People laughing and enjoying themselves. And I do the proper motions, the proper smiles. But, I’m not really in the party. And that's the way I prefer it.
Charlotte is on the sofa with her arm in a sling, leg tucked under her the same way she has been doing since she was a kid, talking to three of her colleagues at once without effort. She has color on her cheeks again. She's home.
Keith is on the windowsill across the room.
Charlotte spotted it, tucked carefully in the backseat of my car, when I picked her up from the hospital this morning. And the teasing began immediately.
"Oh, you put it in a tote bag with bubble wrap. You care! Did you talk to it?" she asked in an annoying voice.
She got my glare for an answer.
She laughed the whole way out of the parking structure.
I turn the beer bottle in my hand and look around the room.
About twelve people. Lia Alvarez, the colleague I met at the hospital, brought enough food for thirty. Someone's husband sits in the armchair not sure where he belongs. Two of her friends from the academy are here. The balloon says GET WELL SOON in letters you could read from the street.
Charlotte has a full room.
I think about who would show up if it were me.
Carter. Adrian. Charlotte. That's the list.
I don’t doubt for a moment that it is a solid list. Better to have few but good. Still, I wonder if all these years that I focused on “making it” were worth the consequent isolation.
Most days that's enough.
Watching Charlotte now, surrounded by people who simply showed up on a Sunday to bring her joy and make sure she is ok, I'm less certain.
"Need a fresh one? You've been nursing that one so long it must be warm by now."
I look to my left and I see a woman talking to me. I think she is Charlotte’s colleague. I’m sure I have seen her before, but I just can’t recall her name.
I take a look at the forgotten beer bottle in my hand then back at her. "I'm fine," I say. "Thanks."
She doesn't move. Tilts her head and gives me a large smile.
"I've heard that the nights at Vanta are crazy awesome," she says. "I've been trying to get in for months. Maybe you can invite me one night?" A pause. "I'd make it worth your while."
I look at her properly. Blonde with blue eyes. Plum lips. Generous neckline. Attractive and aware of it. Maybe I should flirt back. I could give her my number. See where things lead. But I’m already bored—
The room erupts in a cheerful welcome and when I turn to see who just walked in I see her.
Sienna.
In a white and bright pink sun dress, that accentuates her tanned skin. She is wearing her hair down, and the small waves cascade pass her shoulders.
She is saying hello to everyone and it’s obvious that they all know each other.
I don’t know why but that makes me jealous. And I’m moving even before I know what I’m doing.
I throw over my shoulder to the blonde, “Sure, give me your name and I will make sure to put it on the list so they can let you in at the door.
Charlotte is trying to hug Sienna, despite her arm on a sling and the fact that Sienna is carrying a tray. Once they break the awkward hug, Charlotte immediately reaches for the tray. "Tell me these are your famous brownies."
Sienna smiles and declares, "These are my famous brownies."
Charlotte takes one, bites it, closes her eyes for one full second.
"Oh my god." She turns to the room. "Everyone. Take one. I mean it." She points the rest of her brownie at Sienna. "Sienna makes the best brownies."
Sienna's smile gets bigger. A small blush covers her cheeks. And just like that, without her knowing she punches the air out of my lungs.
Two of Charlotte's colleagues lean in. A whole conversation builds around the tray with Sienna in the middle of it, easy, warm and entirely at home. And I’m standing watching her for long enough that I need to either put some distance between us or get closer to her.
I get closer to her.
I come up behind her, close enough that only she'll catch it, lean in and whisper in her ear.
"I’m surprised you didn't bring another plant."
She startles, turning around fast with a hand to her chest. Her big brown eyes look at me, confused at first but when she sees it’s me she squints like she is plotting her revenge.
She smirks, looks at the tray of brownies now placed on the coffee table and then back at me.
She puts her hand on my forearm. Leans in, pulls herself on her tiptoes, and brings her mouth close to my ear. "What makes you think I didn't?"
I can feel her body warm against mine. Her lips almost touching my ear, so close that if I turned my head I would kiss her. I take a deep breath in trying to control myself, but it only brings her floral scent.
She pulls back just enough to give the brownie tray a pointed, deliberate look.
"Those," she says softly, "are special brownies."
My brain goes offline for a full second. She is still holding on to my arm and looking at me with mischief in her eyes.
And again, my body takes over before my brain kicks in to function. I grab her upper arm and lead us out of the living room into the kitchen. She doesn't resist and the kitchen door swings shut behind us, leaving us alone.
“You brought brownies with weed?” I whisper shout.
Sienna scoffs, “Relax. I’m just messing with you. Do you really think that I would bring weed to a house full of cops?”
I look at her in disbelief. "Funny," I deadpan.
I realise that I’m still holding her upper arm. Our bodies so close that we are sharing the same heat. She is looking at me with her chin tilted in defiance and she is not even slightly afraid of me.
I need to break this connection so I can think. I let go of her arm. I don't step back. Neither does she.
I’m trying to grasp for control when my mind reminds me why I don’t like Sienna Cross.
I clear my throat. "I've been meaning to talk to you about something."
She crosses her arms. The movement presses her breasts together and I register it before I can stop myself.
It’s a struggle to bring my focus back to the conversation that I need to have.
"I've heard you inherited Cross Manor," I say. "I want to buy it from you."
I watch for her reaction. Surprise first, quick and clean. Replaced by weary caution. She takes a step back. And I find that I don’t want distance between us afterall.
"It's not settled yet," she says carefully. "And I'm not going to sell it."
"You haven't heard what I'm offering."
"It doesn't matter what you're offering." Her voice is even. Certain. Her chin comes up again. "I won't sell it."
The kitchen door opens and one of the guests walks in, probably looking for something.
"Get out," My voice is cold and commanding.
He takes one look at us, turns around and leaves.
Sienna looks at the closed door. Then at me. Her jaw is tight, her shoulders have squared and when she steps toward me this time there is nothing uncertain about it.
She comes close again. Close enough that I catch her perfume again, the warmth that lives under the floral. Her eyes are darker with anger. The same anger that is coloring her cheeks pink. And I can’t stop my dick from being hard as a rock.
"Who do you think you are?" Her voice stays low, trying to keep this contained from the party. But there is nothing soft in it. "You can't just bully people into doing what you want."
That word. Bully. Hits me hard.
"Watch it," I say.
She steps closer, stabbing my chest with her finger. Her chest rising and falling fast with angry breaths.
"Or what?”
I look at her finger. At her face. At the set of her jaw and the certainty in her eyes and the heat in them.
I have her face in both my hands before I've finished the thought.
There is no control left in me. I kiss her. My mouth is on hers and I feel her breath catch. And then she kisses me back.
Her hands come up to my chest, flat and pressing, and then she is pushing me away.
I let go.
We stand there. Both of us breathing too fast. Her lips are red. Her chest is moving. Her eyes are wide and on mine. I am looking back at her with no plan, no next move, no regret.
And yet, I'm about to apologize—
She looks at my mouth. Grabs my shirt. Pulls me down.
Her hands go behind my head, her mouth finds mine and I stop processing entirely.
I pull her in by the hips, she comes without resistance, all of her against me and I walk her back against the counter.
She doesn't stop me. Her fingers tighten in my hair.
I put one hand flat on her lower back, press her to me so she can feel my desire and she arches into it making a low sound I feel through my whole chest.
My hands are at her waist, her back, sliding to the hem of her dress. Her fingers are at my collar, my shoulders, pulling me closer.
I’m in Charlotte's kitchen on a Sunday afternoon with a party on the other side of the wall, pressing Sienna Cross against the counter and I do not care about any of that at all.
I need to stop this insanity.
I break the kiss.
She's breathing fast. I'm worse. I put my forehead to hers. My hands are on her waist and I can feel her pulse under my thumbs, quick and unsteady. She is flushed and her fingers are still in my hair while she is looking at my mouth.
"Come with me," I say against her lips. "Let's get out of here."
I feel it happen. The shift is immediate. Her hands still. Her breathing changes. To a more controlled, slow and deliberate rhythm. Something inside her is pulling back before her body does.
She takes a step sideways. I almost follow.
Her hands go to her hair, her dress. Trying to find some composure.
"No," she says softly. "I can't."
She backs toward the door. Her eyes are still on my eyes. Like she doesn’t want to break contact.
Her gaze drops to my mouth, comes back up to my eyes. I can see she is not indifferent to whatever this is. I take one step forward.
She turns and walks out.
The door swings shut.
I put both hands on the counter. Cold tile. The noise of the party through the wall. The world continues outside these walls
"What the fuck?!" I say to no one. I’m alone again.