Five #3
Her stomach drops, surprise rippling through her, something Wes notices because he leans across the table.
“Are you trying to date him?” He grimaces. “Of all the students here, you want to date him?”
“Not date,” she snaps. “I want to have sex with him.”
The words are out of her mouth before she can stop them. She doesn’t clarify that she actually no longer wants this.
After all this time, how does Wes manage to pull things from her so easily, effortlessly goading her into a confession?
But Wes looks like she slapped him. He shakes his head, running a hand through his hair. “You can’t fuck Nash Hudson.”
Charlie scoffs. “Says who?”
His eyes flash. “Me. What, did he ask for an itemized list of guys you’ve slept with?”
When Charlie doesn’t respond, he laughs, but it rings hollow in the quiet of the library. He lets out a soft, humorless chuckle. “He’s unbelievable.”
“Drop it, Quinn.” She stands, mirroring his stance, leaning far enough over the table that their faces hover inches apart. He’s so close, she spots the flecks of light brown surrounding his irises, his eyes not fully green. “It was a mistake to say anything. Forget you ever heard it.”
Annoyance flickers across his face, his gaze narrowing. “Fine.” Pushing off his palms, he straightens. “But can I give you some advice?”
Charlie laughs at the audacity of this man thinking he can tell her what to do. “Of course. Please enlighten me. I love unsolicited advice from men.”
He stares at her long enough that she shifts on her heels. “You’re a real pill sometimes, you know that?”
He’s baiting her, as usual. As he has for three years now. But she’s grown used to their verbal tennis matches. They’ve been at odds with one another since the day she put up her walls and cut him out of her life, compartmentalizing her feelings in order to keep him at a distance.
Planting her hands on her hips, Charlie scowls. “You know me. Bitter and hard to swallow.”
He rolls his eyes. “I know you won’t take what I say seriously, but don’t sleep with Nash Hudson.
If you’re trying to have sex, you deserve someone a thousand times better than him.
He treats women like they owe him something, never lets them spend the night, and doesn’t even call them a ride after.
” Wes releases a tense laugh. “And don’t even get me started on the private photos he casually flashes around.
You really think someone like that will pay any attention to your pleasure? ”
Charlie’s skin burns at his words, at the sudden thought of someone besides her own fingers and vibrator bringing her pleasure.
She already knows these things about Nash. But she’s not about to admit that to Wes.
He looks away, clenching his jaw. His ears are red, his cheeks tinged pink, and he shakes his head before looking at her again.
“Look, I promise I’ll drop it, okay?” He raises his hands in supplication, backing away from her table. “I’m only trying to help someone I once considered a friend.”
He leaves her in stunned silence to sift through this last statement.
A friend? When did he consider her a friend? Surely not in the same way she used to think about him, not after what he said all those years ago. His words are forever burned into her brain like a brand.
You don’t say something like that about a friend.
She opens her laptop once more, tapping the space bar to wake up the screen. Her pithy document of ideas stares back at her, and she rests her face in her palm, glaring at the blank white space.
Male Perspective. Charlie scoffs at the ridiculous name.
No one needs a podcast from a famous male celebrity about what it’s like to date people.
Theo’s advice isn’t even good. The one episode she listened to—purely out of curiosity—involved him answering a listener’s question about how to get his girlfriend to put out more.
She shut it off halfway through, in no way interested in hearing someone bloviate about sexist relationship expectations when rumors ran rampant that Theo Fox never dated anyone for more than a few weeks.
She can’t believe thousands of people tune in every week—
Charlie freezes, a shock jolting her like she’s been struck by lightning.
On the screen, her cursor blinks in time with the thump of her pulse.
National media coverage. Congressional sponsorship. And—
Celebrity endorsements.
“Fuck,” she mutters. “Fucking fuck.”
Fingers trembling like she’s about to attempt to defuse a bomb, she adds “Theo Fox’s podcast” under the Fantastical heading.
Theo has a large platform. And as it did recently, she knows about multiple instances where his sound bites went viral on social media.
Is it worth trying to pitch to appearing on a show like that to save her clinic?
She knows the answer before she even finishes the thought.
Because she will do whatever it takes to save it.
Groaning, she covers her face with her hands.
She has to get him to agree first. And in order to do that…
Lowering her hands, Charlie stares into the distance with growing resignation.
She needs to speak with Wes again.