#charlieve

“IT’S ONE OF THESE. I PROMISE IT’S HERE. I JUST--” the door sprang open and Genevieve Tate shrieked, collapsing into a heap on her very own foyer as Charlie looked on. He sighed as he held out a hand to her, regretting even more his descision to leave the bar with this raging drunk.

It had been better than staying with Michelle, he reminded himself. 

Gen glanced up, taking his hand as she simultaneously pulled herself and pulled him into the apartment. She pushed the door shut behind him and started tottering off into the apartment as she shouted, “MAKE YOURSELF COMFORTABLE,” over her shoulder.

Charlie looked around in dismay noting that her “apartment” more resembled a trash heap than a residence actually inhabited by humans. He took a few steps inside, careful not to step on any of the clothes, mail or facial products that litered the hall.

Then he came to a crossroads. She had taken the left passage but Charlie didn’t dare follow as that probably lead to her bedroom. He definitely didn’t wish to end up there. Instead, he chose the right.

Luckily, it led to what appeared to be a living room. And after unearthing a sofa, he seated himself. He checked his watch again. 10:07pm. He desperately wondered how quickly he could make it home. And how long Michelle would, undoubtedly, camp out in his apartment. Could he wait until the girl fell asleep, slip out and just wander the streets until midnight? Or should he just leave now?

"HEY, BIG BOY.”

He didn’t have a chance to decide. He looked up, finding Gen leaning in the doorway, one hand spanning the length of the wall, which also seemded to be holding her upright. She still wore the boa and crown but she’d swapped her party dress for a red and black corset and, if he wasn’t mistaken, her heels had somehow grown taller.

With a smile, she began to move, grabbing the ends of the boa as whipped it back and forth before her. She pulled the crown off her head and tossed it aside before the boa joined it. And then, she started in on the corset, pulling on the laces as her feet tangled.

And for the third time since Charlie had met her, he looked down to find her sprawled on the floor at his feet. It was surprising she hadn’t yet broken anything.

He reached down, gently tugging on her arms as he dragged her onto the sofa next to him. “Perhaps, you should slow down. This doesn’t seem to be going well.”

“I’M FINE. I JUST TRIPPED OVER THIS STUPID SHOE.”

She pointed briefly to her foot before her hands moved back to the corset, trying to remove it. Charlie quickly grabbed her hands, pulling them away from the strings as he hoped against hope she would pass out before finishing.

“Genevieve,” he said slowly. “Why don’t we leave that alone and just chat for a bit. You said it’s your birthday?”

“CHAT?! I DIDN’T BRING YOU HERE TO CHAT. I BROUGHT YOU HERE TO HAVE SEX!”

She wrenched her hands away, pouting as Charlie signed. “Please, Genevieve, stop shouting.”

“I’M NOT SHOUTING,” she glared at him as she folder her arms across her chest.

Charlie wasn’t planning to argue the point. Instead he sighed again, trying desperately to make conversation and wondering why he didn’t just leave. “How old are you, Genevieve?”

“WHY?”

“You said it’s your birthday. How old are you today?”

“TWENTY-ONE.”

Charlie froze. Seven years. That wasn’t a huge difference. Except, when he looked at the drunk girl beside him, trying desperately to pull her clothes off so an older man she had just met in a bar could make love to her, it was a huge difference.

And in that moment, something in him snapped.

Gen had moved slightly, her hands coming to rest in her lap. Charlie took them both in his and leaned forward, his eyes meeting hers. “Happy birthday, Genevieve. I hope it’s been wonderful.”

If his own revelation hadn’t been enough, it was no match for hers. She seemed to wilt before his very eyes. “It’s been okay,” she whispered.

Charlie nodded sympathetically, his lips drawing together in a small line as he contemplated. “Why don’t you tell me about it?”

But the fight seemed to have left her. “I’m so tired,” she said with a yawn, pulling one of her hands free of Charlie’s to stifle it. He caught it as he pulled himself to his feet, pulling her after him.

“You’ve had a long day,” he said softly, allowing her to rest her head on his shoulder as he slipped an arm around her. “You deserve a good night’s sleep.”

She didn’t answer but he thought he could feel her nod. She was silently as they slowly made their way to her bedroom, Gen still tottering on her heels. Even wrapped around Charlie, it was something of a miracle they made it across the apartment.

Once in her bedroom, Charlie led her to the bed and started to release her but she wrapped her hands tight around his neck as, once more, her feet tangled and this time she fell back, landing on the bed and pulling Charlie down on top of her. She muttered “stay with me” as she snuggled against him and then, just as suddenly, she was out cold.

Charlie finally had the out he wanted. Unfortunately, she’d passed out after locking him in her iron grip. He tried to pull her hands from around him but even knocked out, she still held fast. So Charlie sighed, rolling on his side to at least make himself comfortable.

He figured she couldn’t hang on forever. Eventually, hopefully as she slept, she’d let go. He just had to wait her out.

He didn’t have to wait long. In just a few minutes, she hiccuped and her hands parted... only to curl around his waist instead. She snuggled closer, pulling him even tighter as she slept on.

So Charlie gave in. He braced his head on his right hand, watching the woman beside him sleep. He reached with his left hand to brush away a curl that had stuck to her forehead. But, instead of moving it out of her face, he found himself curling it around his fingers.

This time last night, he had been in a different bed with a different woman. The other woman, the one who’d left, would never have made such a display. She was much like Charlie. Brush her teeth, read for exactly half an hour then lights out by ten. She drank only in moderation, she’d probably never owned a pair of heels much less wore one and she didn’t believe in spending her evenings out in places of “afterteen rebellion,” as she referred to bars and nightclubs.

And, yet, Charlie knew he’d loved her. But now she was gone.

She’d been replaced by the barely-legal disaster before him. And, if Charlie were really being honest with himself, he couldn’t say that he minded. Despite his wishes to remain stoic and aloof, he’d taken part in an adventure. That never would’ve happened if he wasn’t now alone.

But he knew it would end. He would leave and this girl would pass into adulthood without him. He could only imagine the type of life she would have and the men she would meet. He found himself wishing to be one of them. Wishing the circumstances different.

She could bring him out of his shell, he saw that. There was something in the way she’d carried herself when she stopped trying to be someone else. When she’d tripped for the last time and allowed him to pull her onto the couch. She’d begun to break down her walls. That girl, he felt he could get to know.

But it wasn’t in the cards.

He pushed the strand of hair from her face and folded his hands together underneath her head. And as he watched her sleep, the exhustion succumbed him as well.

----

Charlie Lang awoke to the sound of cars honking and angry voices shouting. He rolled over, sighing softly as he fought to reclaim sleep. His hand reached out in the bed, searching for another warm body. When it came up empty, his eyes sprang open.

But instead of finding his white bedroom with navy curtains, he found hot pink walls, a mess of clothes scattered across the floor and a flood of memories from the night before.

And a vacany beside him in the foreign bed.

His first thought was that she’d gone to take a shower. Or to fix breakfast. But then he spotted the note.

He could feel his heart drop as he knew he wouldn’t see the girl with the red curls again. He read the note silently before he gently replaced it on the pillow.

Then Charlie Lang rose, took one last look around her bedroom and made his way out of the apartment into the cool, autumn breeze.

Missing a woman he’d never known.

everybody wants somebody who doesn't want them, who want somebody else, baby.

you want somebody? oh, you want someone? somebody else, somebody else

i know that no man will ever own you...

“Genevieve, what have I said about playing Candy Crush during our lunch meetings?”

Gen rolled her eyes as Charlie began to go off on another rant about how technology was the bane of this generation. He was impossible once he went off on this sort of tangent, so she decided it was probably for the best that she just sit quietly and sip her tea.

And, y’know, not mention that she’d actually been booking both of them tickets to a VIP gala celebrating the opening of his favorite artist’s new exhibit at the Metropolitan Museum of Art. It was gonna be a big surprise! He’d been talking about it for hours, groaning and whining over how he had been stuck in a review when the tickets had gone on sale, how he’d never get another chance to be in the same room as such genius.

Usually Gen would have just ignored all that from him. He always seemed to be griping about one thing or another. But this was different--Charlie seemed actually devastated at the thought of not going. And something inside of her was determined to change that. So she pulled a few strings, called in a few favors... And within minutes, they were all set. (Even with reservations booked for some fancy new restaurant down the block for dinner beforehand, kisses to Rocco.)

“I know you do not wish to think that any person owns you, Genevive, but it is very obvious that device of yours does!” Charlie finished with a huff, knocking Gen from her reverie. She took another slow sip of her tea before giving him an almost sad smile. 

“You’re certainly right about one of those things, Char-Char.”

but to be your defender on the road you travel...

It had been the moment. 

The sort of moment you see in movies where the romantic leads stare at each other for just a second too long, and everything clicks. Hearts start beating, breath becomes heavier, eyes grow wide, tongues lick lips...

Everyone knows what’s about to happen, and the audience just keeps whispering to themselves: “kiss! just kiss! just do it!”

But then something happens. The moment is broken, unresolved. For Gen, it had been her phone buzzing wildly at her for the first time in days since they’d come to her dinky home town. Charlie let out a sigh that almost sounded exasperated at the interruption, Gen mumbling half-hearted apologies as she turned away and began tapping at the hundreds of notifications and messages that had piled up.

Perhaps it was for the best, really. Distance would be good. They traveled on vastly different roads. What was the use in hoping they’d ever be able to walk together? It could only lead to heartbreak and destruction.

to show you the world as you’ve never seen it...

“omg... No. No way. You’ve gotta be #kiddingme. Charlie, are you punking me?!”

“I am certainly not hashtag-anything you, Genevieve. Mister Sapperstein said he wanted the two of us working on next month’s cover story.” A smile crossed the young man’s lips as he crossed his arms and leaned against his desk, watching as realization began to dawn over Gen. “He’s impressed with the work you’ve been doing with the back editorials. Seems he figured you deserved a chance at something bigger.”

Gen let out a loud squeal, pointedly ignoring the grimace that came over Charlie’s face at the sound. This was too exciting! She’d never been given this sort of responsibility before. So what if she could see him staring at her out of the corner of her eye as she hummed and did a happy dance on the spot? 

And so what if her heart stuttered a little as she almost thought she saw longing amusement in his eyes? She’d learned quickly after Christmas that Charlie wasn’t one for misplaced affections. He hated them nearly as much as he hated turtles. (Gen had yet to hear the whole story as to why. He’d simply flipped out when she’d gone to sleep in a TMNT shirt one night, and Gen had yet to let him live that down.) 

Still didn’t stop her from hoping a little. Yes, Charlie had made very clear that she was nothing more than a friend--that Christmas had merely been a favor. But sometimes he just looked at her in a way that almost made it seem like he’d changed his mind.

“You are much better than you give yourself credit for, Genevieve.” Charlie continued over Gen’s one-woman dance party. “I am certainly not surprised at this development. Only that it has taken so long to arrive.”

“You bet your ass it has! I am #hellaboss. Just no one but you got to fully bask in the glow of it. Until now!” Gen grinned brightly and, perhaps for the first time, allowed herself to throw caution to the wind as she pressed a hard kiss to Charlie’s cheek.

for that i hold my hopes...

This had been a terrible idea.

A really horrible, terrible, no good, very bad idea.

What had she thought would happen when she broke into Charlie’s house in the middle of the night, just clinging onto the sober side of tipsy, filled with the sort of confidence and bravery that only lived in the hearts of those who’ve had a few more drinks than they should’ve. 

What had she expected from backing Charlie into a corner--rambling about Christmas and listing all the things that had happened that certainly would make any rational girl assume that the sexy co-worker they’d coerced into pretending to be their fiance might y’know, actually be contemplating jumping their bones at any given moment.

So what if she still had that infamous mistletoe kiss selfie of the two of them as her phone background?

So what if she’d caught herself doodling “Mrs. Genevieve Lang” on her notepads like a love-sick middle school girl?

The moment Charlie’s hands reached out to grab Gen by the waist and pull her towards him; the moment he swallowed hard and looked her--half-terrified--in the eye, Gen’s confidence fled with due haste. And all it left in its wake was a rapidly beating heart and a flush coloring her cheeks. 

What was Charlie doing?! He didn’t love her! He’d all but said so the minute their plane took off from Alaska! He was dating that boring lump Annika! 

What was she doing, allowing herself to lean into his embrace? This was only going to end badly. No. No. She couldn’t allow herself to do this--to either of them.

“I--I have to go. I’m... I’m so sorry.” Gen gasped out, forcibly pulling herself back from the kiss she had almost pressed against Charlie’s lips and rushing out the back door into the rain.