Those Who Wait - Charlotte alt. pov (Patreon)

If you've ever wondered - what was in this woman's mind during the time post gift exchange, before she and Sutton spoke again? If you've ever wondered who the true queen of delusion is - wait no more!

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Charlotte took a long, deep breath as she relaxed back into the booth she was sitting in with Dean, letting herself revel in this feeling.

This victorious, heady, satisfied feeling that sang through her veins, and hadn’t stopped since her debate with Naomi had ended an hour ago.

God, that look on Naomi’s face at the end? The look of her gritting her teeth and forcing herself to smile through clear irritation and upset as she shook Charlotte’s hand… oh, yes. Victory truly was fucking sweet.

“And a glass of the finest red for our future member of congress,” Caleb announced, setting down the wine he’d gotten her from the bar with a dramatic – of course – flourish.

He handed Dean a mixed drink before sitting down, himself, and he was the first to lift his glass for them all to clink together.

Charlotte grinned as she did so, even as she tried to bite some of it back. “There’s still another debate before the election; let’s not get too ahead of ourselves.”

Both her brother and Dean shot her incredulous looks, before they all broke into laughter. No, Charlotte didn’t believe her election was a lock, and yes, she was right to believe Naomi could have some tricks up her sleeve.

But Charlotte was polling ahead of her, she’d bested her in debates, and tonight… tonight was about celebrating that. While she kept a realistic view on the situation, she could put off that realism for a single night to celebrate.

Honestly, she hadn’t intended for this to be the way she’d spent tonight, but Caleb and Dean had been waiting for her right after the debate and needled her into coming out, and…

And Charlotte needed this right now.

She needed this one night to – to just not think.

All she’d been doing for the last week was fucking thinking. Her mind had been bogged down, on a constant go-go-go, every single second since Sutton had gone home for the holidays.

Cycling between thinking about Sutton and the way she’d kissed Charlotte before she’d left, the way she made Charlotte feel, before she’d get frustrated and upset with the fact that she was letting herself get caught up in something that wasn’t work and the election and this debate, that she’d forcibly turn all of her attention to preparing for tonight.

She was emotionally and mentally exhausted.

So much so, that she’d agreed to this.

She drank – rather than simply sipped – her wine, looking around the club.

It wasn’t really the club scene, not in any way Charlotte was familiar with. Going to clubs throughout her twenties was… easy. They were dark and loud, and no one ever really looked too closely at her because they were all so preoccupied with their own shit. They were a great place to meet up with someone from an app and establish that there was a physical attraction. Again – dark, loud. Not inviting conversation or getting too personal.

The dim lighting and thrumming music gave Charlotte a sense of peace, of anonymity. No one she left a club with and went home to fuck after a single meeting was looking for romance, was looking for last names or deep connection.

If Charlotte were honest, looking for women that were looking for a night of escape – whatever their escape may be from wasn’t her business, and she didn’t want it to be her business – was precisely what she’d always been interested in.

Because it was exactly what she was looking for, too. A night of physical release, of meaningless and fleeting, heated spark. And then, her body’s needs were met, and she could get back to work, where her mental energy was buzzing.

She hadn’t even entertained the idea of going to a club in over six months, not with this election landing in front of her.

Which circled her back to – this place wasn’t like anywhere she’d have typically gone. The lighting was dim and the music was loud, but not in that sort of dingy, lose-yourself way.

Likely because this wasn’t a typical club. This wasn’t a place that just anyone could walk in from off the street, somewhere people could find from a google search. Dean had gotten wind of this place years ago, through one of his political channels on the Down Low.

“Everyone here is guaranteed privacy,” he assured her from across their small table, his voice quiet, but just loud enough to carry to her.

“I know.” She turned her attention back to him, fixing him with a smile. “I trust you.”

And she did.

Especially because, after looking around, she’d recognized a few faces amidst this crowd. Faces of other public officials, a socialite, and a couple of Manhattan-based celebrities. People whose names she knew, technically.

But for the purpose of tonight and for the respect of this place – no, she didn’t know anything about them.

There was something very comforting in that, and she allowed herself to relax into it, as she tipped back the remainder of her wine.

Caleb let out a low whistle, before he made eye contact with one of the servers nearby and gestured at them. “I made friends with him up at the bar,” he proudly informed them, once the server gave him a thumbs-up. “Told him our orders, tipped him in advance, and we are solid for the night, my favorite people.”

Charlotte chuckled, and opened her mouth to inform him that she wouldn’t be imbibing any more than one other glass. Only to get distracted by her phone vibrating where it lay, face-down, on the table.

Her heart skipped a beat, and she reached out to grab it as Sutton’s face flashed through her mind, a spark of excitement quick on its heels.

And that spark of anticipations and – and longing, god was that was this feeling was? It felt like it – made her hesitate looking at her phone even as it rested in her palm already.

Taking a deep, calming breath through her nose, she quelled that feeling, and flipped her phone over.

Only to feel both relieved and disappointed when she saw that the message wasn’t, in fact, from Sutton at all.

Jesus, what a strange and disquieting combination.

Shaking her head at herself, she opened the message from her grandmother.

Grandmother – 10:19PMIncredible to see. Rewatching some of the highlights again. Can’t wait to discuss with you.

All right, that message begot a different kind of excitement – and a whole lot of pride – sliding through her.

Charlotte – 10:20PMCan’t wait to get your commentary and input! I’ll see you when you return to the city

She tapped out of the text thread, into the main hub of her messages, and inevitably – uncontrollably, really – looked at the last message she’d received, earlier.

Good luck tonight! Not that you need it, because you are going to be so amazing!!

Just like that, her breath caught in her throat and her heart skipped a beat, just the way it had earlier when she’d received the message. It had been the last thing she’d looked at before the debate, and something about Sutton’s palpable excitement and sweet encouragement and utter belief in Charlotte… it wrapped her up in something that had felt invincible as she’d gone out to face Naomi.

The only thing that could have possibly been better would have been to talk to Sutton, to actually hear her say those words.

But that thought alone had made Charlotte hastily drop her phone, earlier. Absolutely not.

She stared down, now, though and… yeah. She still had that same inclination.

To tap the call icon and hear Sutton’s exuberant response to Charlotte’s performance in the debate.

It was all she could think of that was missing from this celebratory occasion.

Another glass of wine was set down on the table, jarring her from her thoughts. Quickly, she locked her phone and set it back down – obviously, she wouldn’t be calling Sutton right now.

Shaking her head back, she looked across the table, only to see that both Caleb and Dean were watching her very closely.

She frowned, reaching for her newly filled glass of wine, as she arched them a look. “Yes?”

Caleb dropped his chin into his hand, fluttering his eyelashes obnoxiously at her, as he asked, “Get any fun text messages? Perhaps from a… hmm… I don’t know. Stunning redhead, crystal-clear blue eyes, legs for miles–”

Charlotte turned her attention to Dean, sending him an unamused look. “Are you fine with your boyfriend talking about someone else like this? He sounds more taken with her than I am.”

Before Dean could say anything – even with amusement glinting in his eyes – Caleb slammed his hand onto the table, “A-ha! So, you admit that you’re taken with her.”

Swiftly cutting her glare back to her brother, she took a deliberately slow – long – drink from her glass. Taking her time setting it back down as she answered, evenly, “No.”

Oh, god.

Her body was turning on her, as her stomach twisted uncomfortably at the taste of such a blatant lie on her lips.

And this was the first time, really, that it felt like a lie. Maybe she’d been able to pull the wool over her own eyes, before. Maybe her – her possible feelings had grown. Charlotte didn’t know, exactly. All she knew was that decisively saying that she wasn’t “taken” with Sutton made her feel like a liar.

Charlotte was many things, and not all of them were good things. She knew this about herself.

But she’d never in her life thought of herself as a liar. And that sentiment wasn’t pleasant.

She reached out and grabbed the glass of wine that Caleb’s new friend had swiftly placed on the table, taking a large sip to chase away that disgusting taste in the back of her throat.

Then she took a large sip again, as she started to truly feel a little hazy from the alcohol working through her, and – Charlotte really wasn’t a drinker. A nice glass here and there, mostly just for taste? Absolutely.

But she typically hated feeling out of control, even of her own thoughts. So, drinking didn’t really make sense to her.

However, she’d felt really out of control of her thoughts since the last time she’d seen Sutton. Haunted by the feeling of Sutton’s lips pressing against hers, so softly. Warmly. Sweetly.

A kiss Charlotte had never experienced before – a kiss goodbye. Something so simple, but something that spoke of a relationship far deeper than casual sex.

A kiss that terrified Charlotte and exhilarated her in equal measure.

Ugh.

She finished her glass of wine, setting it sharply down on the table, and looked back up at Caleb and Dean. “Tonight, gentleman and Caleb, is about celebrating. And that is precisely what I’m going to do.”

With that, she stood up and made her way into the dance floor, letting herself feel the pulse and rhythm of the music. Giving into it, in ways she hadn’t let herself – hadn’t been able to – in months.

And it felt good.

It felt – freeing. She felt lighter, unencumbered. For this moment, her mind felt clear. This was just about her.

She blinked open her eyes when she felt someone stand a little too close to her to be considered dancing separately. The woman quirked an eyebrow at her in question, even as her hips moved easily in the same rhythm as Charlotte’s.

Charlotte read the question easily. Yes? Good? More? Closer? All boiling down to – interested?

She answered with a subtle shake of her head. No, because this moment wasn’t about that.

It wasn’t too long after that, though, that she felt the press against her from another woman. A bolder move than the previous woman, and Charlotte – eventually – turned to face her, once it became apparent that this wasn’t a passing moment, but a potential thing.

The smile that slid over the woman’s face was slow and sensuous, tipped ever-so-slightly in question, even with that dark look in her eyes. Charlotte knew that look.

And this woman was attractive, she thought idly, as she worked her hips along with the music – and along with the woman’s answering beat.

She was very attractive, and her face pinged at something in Charlotte’s memory. She knew this woman from somewhere, though she knew they’d never met. And she definitely knew she’d never seen this face splashed on any article or next to a headline discussing her sexuality.

That alone told Charlotte this woman likely wouldn’t be wanting anything beyond simple. Quiet.

Normally, exactly what Charlotte would be looking for, herself.

It was with no small feeling of mounting desperation, though, that she realized… she felt nothing.

No matter what, she wouldn’t have intended on going home with anyone, tonight. Even if she and Sutton weren’t sleeping together, that was not what Charlotte was looking for.

But the alarming thing was that neither this woman nor the one before made Charlotte feel anything at all. Not that physical, heady rush she used to get during moments like this. Not even a buzz of attraction.

They were attractive, both of the women. Months ago, if she’d come across either of them on an app or in a place like this, she knew she’d have felt a spark inside of her. She knew it.

But now, even after this woman had pressed herself so close against Charlotte during the last song, after their legs had slotted between each other’s, and they’d moved so closely, leaving no space between them – she felt fucking nothing.

Not an ounce of desire. Not a spark. Not even the urge to want to feel those things, not really.

Because all she could think was – Sutton.

Had Sutton danced like this, before?

A part of her couldn’t imagine it, and yet, a part of her very much could.

Because she now knew that underneath all of her sweet, shy, rambles was also a woman that made Charlotte come harder than anyone else she’d ever been with. In spite of Sutton’s admittedly undeniable clumsiness, she moved with a sinfully smooth rhythm in bed. Her hips picked up the rhythm of Charlotte’s own – or her thigh, or her hand, or her mouth – without missing a beat. She fucked Charlotte with a rhythm that spoke volumes about how well she could read her body.

She just knew it would be like that if they danced together, too.

And oh, yes. She felt that heat resonate through her, when she closed her eyes and rolled her hips along with the music and thought of Sutton here with her.

But, as a pair of hands that her body didn’t recognize landed on her hips, her mental image was so easily broken. Completely dashed. And she blinked her eyes open, into the face of this random woman that was looking for an anonymous escape tonight.

A woman that wasn’t Sutton.

Looking for a night of something Charlotte didn’t want to partake in with her.

“Excuse me,” she murmured, knowing that the woman might not be able to hear her clearly, but that she was watching Charlotte’s mouth and that she could feel the way Charlotte had stopped giving herself over to the music.

A dreadfully heavy, unwelcome feeling swept through her – clawing at her, really – as she made her way back to the table.

She was so grateful that there was another refill of wine waiting for her when she sat. Also, grateful that this place stocked quite a lovely vintage, though she supposed – given the clientele – it wasn’t shocking.

She downed it in several gulps, panting slightly as she set the glass firmly back down.

And looked across the table at Caleb and Dean, who were both staring at her. Caleb’s eyes were wide and excited, while Dean’s were a little more… sympathetic. Warm. A little sad.

Charlotte felt every sentiment in their expressions echo through her, combining into something large and heavy that sat uncomfortably in her stomach.

“Yes?” She drawled at them, using her fingers to toy with the bottom of the wine glass.

“Anything you want to discuss?” Caleb asked, dropping his chin into his hand as he sipped at his own drink.

She scowled.

Because no, there was nothing Charlotte fucking wanted to discuss. The last thing she wanted to do about these feelings inside of her and the constant replay in her mind of the way Sutton had stroked her hair while she’d been unwell and had then kissed her, so softly… was discuss it.

She wanted it to go away, she thought, petulantly. And, ah, yes – petulantly in a way she was even in her own mind, while a little drunk.

How many glasses – three? Was that three glasses she’d had so far? She wasn’t certain.

Their incredibly attentive server swooped in at that moment, setting down another glass in front of her and retrieving her empty one.

This would be four, then, and Charlotte wasn’t above drinking it at this point. No, at this point, she felt she needed it.

Because she didn’t feel anything, dancing with gorgeous women.

Because, “She kissed me.”

She hadn’t anticipated speaking those words into existence, but apparently the wine had other ideas.

Dean and Caleb exchanged a quick look, which Charlotte mocked under her breath as she sipped her at new glass.

Dean slowly spoke, “Sutton? Are we discussing Sutton, now?”

“Obviously. It wasn’t the woman I was just with,” she muttered, exasperatedly. They’d had a clear view of her, so they’d know that!

And she was exasperated with herself, because she knew that if the woman had kissed her, that Charlotte wouldn’t have wanted it. Wouldn’t have even wanted to entertain the fucking idea.

In fact, the thought of kissing that woman – or anyone else – made her feel sick in a way she’d never, ever felt before.

“Uh, unless you’ve been playing the world’s strangest charade on us, you’ve done a lot more than kiss Sutton in the last couple of months,” Caleb joked, curiously.

Charlotte breathed out a mirthless, dark chuckle. “What a weird joke. It’d be better that way, though.”

Would it? Her more-than-tipsy brain pushed her to consider the thought, because the idea of not engaging in this affair with Sutton made her feel even more nauseated. It was, actually, the worst feeling she’d experienced all night, making her stomach cramp tightly.

“She kissed me before she left,” she explained, gesturing widely with her glass. Which almost sloshed over the rim, and she brought it to her lips to take a large sip to ensure that wouldn’t happen.

“She gave me an advanced copy of her mother’s book and flower bulbs and she stayed with me while I was sick, and then I gave her earrings that match her eyes – I hope she wears them,” she cut in, her own thoughts starting to come too rapidly for her to properly keep pace out loud. “She liked them. A lot,” she informed her brother and best friend, proudly.

Because she felt proud of that. No, Charlotte wasn’t typically a gift-giver, and certainly never to anyone she wasn’t related to.

But… those earrings – and the matching necklace – had spoken to her. And she knew from the mystified, deeply pleased look on Sutton’s face when she’d looked at the earrings, that they’d spoken to her, too.

“Good, that’s great,” Dean encouraged, softly, his mouth lifting into a small smile.

“Yes, it was.” She nodded in agreement, taking another thoughtful sip of wine, before she tilted her head. “I know she was concerned about the expense, but let’s be honest – the cost is no matter. And like I would give her cheap jewelry.”

The very thought made her shudder in disgust.

No, Sutton was… she was precious. Beautiful, sparkling, and pure. And not in some gross, perverted way, but – her very spirit. And she should be adorned in jewelry that matched.

Caleb obnoxiously cleared his throat, regaining her attention. “Let’s get back to the topic at hand – she kissed you. And that’s a big deal because…?”

She frowned at him, because the answer was so obvious. “Because, Caleb, we aren’t supposed to kiss like that.”

Charlotte had never kissed… anyone like that.

“Like what?” Her brother asked, and this time, he didn’t seem like he was trying to be a little shit. He seemed genuinely uncertain.

Which, again, exasperated Charlotte, and she waved her hand in front of them as she explained, “Like – like – affectionately.” Yes, that was the right word.

She knew, because the thought of it made something both pleasantly warm and terrifyingly cold sweep through her at the same time.

“We aren’t supposed to kiss, you see, unless we’re having sex. We have rules,” she informed them, even though she knew they were aware of the rules. No, she’d never told them explicitly what the rules were, but she knew that they knew they existed, and the broad concept behind them. “And the rules clearly state that kissing is reserved for sex-nights, not friend-nights, because that’s what makes sense.”

Charlotte thought it was a great rule; it drew a very clear and solid boundary between their friendship and their… more.

She dropped her hand heavily to the table with a loud thump. “And we weren’t having sex the other night. So, she shouldn’t have kissed me. But she did.”

And Charlotte could still feel it.

“I see,” Dean quietly murmured, before he leaned in and kept his voice down – just loud enough to be heard over the music. She appreciated that. “Clarification question: have you two had any “just friends” hangouts since you’ve been sleeping together?”

She’d already opened her mouth to respond the affirmative, only to realize just as she’d started to answer… that, no. Snapping her lips closed, she reached for her wine and took a slow, contemplative sip. Thinking through every time she’d seen Sutton in the last month, and… god, she pulsed, unexpected heat washing through her, as she could so easily picture the moments they’d shared.

Sutton’s mouth on her. Charlotte taking Sutton from behind. Watching Sutton ride her fingers. Sutton –

Caleb, again, loudly cleared his throat, and she blinked herself out of her thoughts.

Feeling herself flush, she let out a slightly shaky breath as she answered truthfully, “Well. No.”

It was just – there was so much to do together. So much Sutton wanted to experience. So much Charlotte wanted to experience with Sutton. It wasn’t like they saw one another every single night! So, the couple times a week that they could see one another, it just – it made sense.

“Maybe that’s it, then,” Dean offered, charitably. “You two have formed a new normal, that does involve kissing. You’ve been kissing one another whenever you’ve seen each other for over a month, now. It’s probably starting to feel natural – even if there are rules.”

Charlotte stared at him, wanting to take comfort in his words, but also… not able to. That didn’t feel right, to her. And it almost – absurdly – upset her even more. So, Sutton had only kissed her like that because she was used to it?

Caleb scoffed out a laugh. “Okay, right. I’ll present the other side of this: Sutton kissed you because she isn’t built for a sex-based relationship without any feelings involved. And you are so bothered about it, because if you’d had this arrangement with anyone else you’ve ever slept with and they kissed you out-of-turn, then you would have promptly and swiftly ended the whole affair. But because it’s Sutton – and because you also have feelings for her! – you can’t make yourself do that. And you’re freaking the fuck out about it, which is why you’ve been so weird all week.”

She saw the way Dean elbowed Caleb as well as the sharp look he cut him. Heard the oof of breath rush from Caleb’s lungs at the impact.

And the acerbic retort that she wanted so desperately to hurl back at him completely escaped her.

Because… her heart was pounding so hard and her throat felt so tight and her face felt so warm, and she didn’t know if she wanted to cry or not.

But her body made the decision for her when she felt hot streaks of tears fall down her cheeks as she dropped her head into her hands.

What had she done?

“Caleb! Come on, honey!”

“I just thought it was time for us all to have a little honesty, here!”

Charlotte kept her face buried, not looking up, as she tried to regain control over herself. Over her heart rate and her breath and… anything. Everything.

She didn’t register anything beyond herself until she felt Dean sit down on the bench next to her, lightly dropping a comforting touch to her knee. “Hey, we both know Caleb has a loud mouth–”

Charlotte lifted her head to look her friend in the eye. “No.” She cut a watery-eyed glare toward her brother. “Well. Yes. But I…” She squeezed her eyes tightly closed, and the next time she forced in a deep breath, it felt easier. “He’s not wrong.”

Caleb was right; it was time for a little honesty.

The only way Charlotte would be able to figure out a road forward was with a hard douse of reality, right now. And she so desperately needed a way forward.

Both Dean and Caleb stilled at her confession, shock clearly on both of their faces. “Oh?” Dean asked, his voice light.

“I knew it!” Caleb’s victorious cry was far too loud.

She glared at him again, but Dean beat her to a comment, as he stated with an edge to his voice, “This is about you, Charlotte. We’re listening. We can walk you through it.”

Charlotte nodded, taking in another breath to gather her wits. Okay. Yes. This was something.

“I… I’ve never felt like this,” she murmured, thoughtfully. “And I can’t do anything about it. But I,” her throat felt a little tighter again at the very thought on her mind, “I can’t end things with Sutton, right now. I – I can’t.”

Because the very idea made her want to vomit, and she couldn’t entertain it any further than that.

“All right,” Dean said, his tone thoughtful. “Well, let me just ask – what does Sutton think about all of this?”

Charlotte reeled away from him, baffled. “Why would I discuss this with Sutton? She – it – no.”

Because she just… she knew, deep inside, that if she discussed this topic with Sutton, then the true reality of everything would come creeping in. It would force a conversation that they couldn’t have.

“Even we’ve noticed you’ve been off all week; Sutton hasn’t?” Caleb asked, clearly incredulous. When she looked at him, he held up his hands defensively. “I’m being genuine, here, not trying to stir the pot. How has Sutton, who you talk to more than anyone at this point, not noticed what’s up with you?”

Charlotte still stared at him, nonplussed. “She hasn’t noticed because we haven’t talked.”

Her brother’s eyebrows flew high up on his forehead, and his shook his head a little. “Sorry. You haven’t talked to Sutton the entire time she’s been gone?”

Frowning deeply at both her brother’s tone and the fact that she didn’t understand why he seemed so – offended? She slowly reaffirmed, “Yes, Caleb, that’s what I said. Why would I talk to Sutton right now, when I’ve been trying to find some clarity about our situation?”

Because Charlotte knew by now that Sutton was the opposite of clarity in her mind. Sutton made her hazy and clouded.

Her brother tightly rolled his lips and shook his head, before turning his attention to Dean. “You need to handle this one.”

“All right… so…” Dean lightly coughed, clearly gathering his thoughts. “Have you wanted to talk to Sutton?”

“God, yes,” she confessed, the words slipping right out of her without hesitation or thought. But it was so true.

She’d gone to call or text Sutton so many times, only to stop. Think about the kiss. Think about the – the feelings. And she’d walk away from her phone.

“Ah. Okay. I think you should talk to her, first and foremost. Shutting Sutton out isn’t going to do either of you any good.”

Charlotte shook her head in vehement disagreement. “I’m not shutting her out.”

After all, it wasn’t as though Sutton was blowing up her phone, either. She’d reached out to Charlotte a couple of times, but it had all been… easy. Casual.

Dean closed his eyes and rubbed his thumb and index finger over the bridge of his nose. “Right,” he allowed. “So – question. Is this feeling for Sutton really new? Did the kiss evoke it? Or, would you say, that it’s been growing?” He quickly held up a hand. “Just take a second to think before you answer.”

A wise comment, as she’d been ready to tell him that it was all due to the damn kiss.

But when she had to actually stop and think…

Well, she thought about the way Sutton’s laugh made her smile. And the way she actually enjoyed Sutton spending the night with her. The way she got the urge to text Sutton so frequently, even during the work day.

“Oh god,” she breathed, that distress swiftly returning, swamping her. She slumped back in her seat. “What the hell is this?”

She pointedly ignored Caleb’s laugh from across the table.

“This is all normal, Charlotte,” Dean assured her, and she knew he was being entirely too sweet to her, given that she was a twenty-eight-year-old woman, not a damn twelve-year-old. Still, it felt comforting. “Look, let’s put things into perspective: these feelings, now that you’ve taken a second to think, aren’t new. You didn’t spiral when you first started to feel something for Sutton, because it felt normal. So, really, there’s nothing new to worry about, now. Right?”

Charlotte sat on that comment for a moment, letting Dean’s words settle in.

And… shockingly, it actually did make her feel better. A lot better, really, and she slowly nodded.

Sitting up, rolling her shoulders back into her normal posture, because – yeah. This sentiment did make her feel a lot more normal.

“You’re right,” she murmured in agreement, and she felt – for the first time in days – like she saw the path forward. Excited by the prospect, she turned to look at Dean, smiling up at him. “Nothing’s changed. Just because I’m aware of having these feelings for Sutton doesn’t mean anything at all is different from before I was aware. Or even, really, before I had feelings.”

Dean was nodding, only to stop, quirking his head at her. “Ah–”

She cut him off, smile brightening. “I can’t believe talking this out with you truly worked. Nothing personal, of course, I just assumed that talking about this would make things worse. But you’re absolutely correct.”

“Charlotte…” Caleb said, drawling her name out slowly.

But when she turned to face him, Dean cleared his throat, and Caleb clamped his mouth shut, shaking his head.

“I’m very glad you’ve found some peace for the night,” he said, before reaching for his drink.

She did the same, relief sliding through her. “Thank you; me too.”

***

She hadn’t intended for her FaceTime to Sutton to result in sex.

Not really; not consciously.

In all honesty, she hadn’t even been fully aware that she’d been calling Sutton when she’d walked back into her apartment after the guys had dropped her home. All she’d known was that she’d been looking down at Sutton’s text thread and –

Yearning. That was the word for this feeling. She’d been longing for Sutton.

And now that she had things worked out, she didn’t have to hold back! She didn’t have to feel like she was hiding anything from Sutton or worry that Sutton was going to see something in Charlotte’s expression that she shouldn’t be privy to.

Such a weight had been lifted from her shoulders, and she’d just – she’d just needed to call Sutton to celebrate that.

But seeing Sutton, even as she’d been laying in bed in her not-intentionally-sexy pajamas and dim lighting… oh, it had easily reminded Charlotte of her thoughts at the bar.

Of what it would be like, to dance with Sutton. Of what Sutton felt like whenever they moved together. Of how Sutton was the only person she wanted to experience that heat with.

And how it felt like it had been forever since she’d gotten to experience sex with Sutton.

Being the first person Sutton had phone sex with felt fucking wonderful. It gave Charlotte that visceral satisfaction she felt whenever she made Sutton feel. Like every sound Sutton made and the way she looked was all for Charlotte.

Which was why, she supposed, it had made her come so easily – though, alarmingly, her vibrator truly did not provide anywhere close to the same orgasm she had with Sutton – when she’d opened her eyes and seen Sutton watching her, clearly so fucking into it, she’d tumbled into her orgasm immediately.

She didn’t really know what words she was saying and what was only in her mind, as her post-orgasm eyes were so heavy, so tired, she could hardly keep them open.

All she knew was that the end call icon felt far too unappealing as she started to drift off. It had just been too long since she’d seen Sutton, she couldn’t bring herself to end the call. And she didn’t have the energy to wonder about that.

All she knew, as she snuggled into her bed, their call still connection on her phone balanced on her nightstand, was that her bed didn’t feel right, right now.

For over a month, after she came, Sutton was in her bed with her while she fell asleep. And it felt – weird.

She frowned at that, even as she cuddled down under the covers. “I still wish you were here.”

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