A knock at the door stilled the beat of my heart. I could feel the sweat pool in my palm as I reached for the handle, slowly opening it to see him standing with a wide smile. Charlie was dressed in a crisp white button-down shirt and dark navy dress pants. One arm cradled a bouquet of flowers, while his other hand held a bottle of red wine.

"Hi," I said nervously, stepping to the side to allow him in.

"Hi," he repeated, dipping his head to softly press his lips against mine.

It was a quick kiss with no passion behind it. But I didn't mind. The act alone helped settle some of the nerves rattling inside me. And any hint of comfort was greatly appreciated.

Only four days had passed since the last time I had seen Charlie. The last time had been after that morning in the apartment, resulting in the time that has past feeling more like forty days. Selfishly, I had spent most of those days apart, ignoring his attempts to see each other in fear that he would want to talk about what happened. I wanted time to process my thoughts and feelings. Yet, I found myself more confused than ever over what to think or do.

After leaving the apartment, I called Abby right away, needing someone to talk to. To my surprise, she was already settled in by the time I arrived. She joked about whether it was too early for a drink after I had told her what happened. I told her I was willing to change all the clocks in the house to a more appropriate drinking hour.

We didn't. But we were very tempted to do so.

She asked me what I was going to do. My response was that I obviously didn't know. I confessed that I was worried I was going to end up crossing a line. I was concerned about coming in-between a longstanding friendship, turning them into enemies over something as trivial as myself.

I asked Abby what she would do if she were in my position.

"Would you end things with Charlie?"

Abby took her time responding, the anticipation becoming torturous. "No," she told me, "You didn't do anything wrong, Dyl. Hunter did. Not you."

"Don't overthink it." Abby continued, sensing that my thoughts were beginning to swarm, "You're going to drive yourself insane. Just see how the weekend goes before you do something you might regret."

Her words replayed in my mind as I looked up at Charlie.

"You look beautiful."

I sucked in a deep breath hearing his compliment, Abby's words replaying at the back of my mind. "Thank you."

Don't overthink it.

"Are you nervous?"

"A little," I admitted, but not for the reasons he thought.

"Don't worry, I won't bring up the Giants," he said, playfully nudging my side.

The sound of my mother's squeal at a staff member caused another deep breath to enter my lungs as we took further steps towards the sound. I found myself wishing I could run out of my home instead of spending another minute inside my family's house. There was a risk of never hearing the end of it from my parents. But, there was also a good chance my mother would have one too many martini's to notice. The latter wasn't an entirely unreasonable possibility.

"Charlie! Glad you could make it, son," my father greeted, strolling over as we entered the living room.

"You as well, Sir." Charlie grinned, extending the bottle of wine, "This is for you and the flowers are for your lovely wife."

My father gave Charlie his signature look of approval: his eyes slightly widened, his head tilted to the side with a nod. At least that was a good sign.

"Very nice," he mumbled, reading the label of the bottle, "And let me take those for you, son. It will be a while before Denise stops ordering everyone around and allows herself to enjoy all her hard work."

Charlie handed over the flowers, looking around the room. "Well, it does look beautiful in here."

"You two go have fun now."

Charlie placed his hand on the small of my back, leading me further into the room. He grabbed two glasses of champagne from a passing waiter and handed one to me.

"So," Charlie looked around once again before dipping his head to whisper into my ear, "Who are all these people?"

I took a sip from my glass. "Business clients and associates."

"No family?"

"No family," I repeated, taking a sip from my glass. "I can't remember the last time we had thanksgiving dinner with just family. It's treated more of an event now. My father can schmooze his clients one last time before the holidays. And my mother has an excuse to throw a party and yell at the staff."

"How fun," sarcasm dripped from his words as he lifted his glass to his lips.

"I know, aren't you so happy you agreed to come?"

"I am." Charlie's finger lightly trailed up my exposed back. "And seeing you in this dress just makes it the cherry on top."

I couldn't help but allow the heat to flush my cheeks, fearing how noticeable the redness would be to others in the room. It was nice having someone like him around. Charlie could make effortless conversation with anyone in the room yet still whisper dirty things in my ear when he had the chance. I think he enjoyed making me blush. And I did too. I enjoyed knowing my parents took a liking to him. Not having to worry about snide remarks from my mother or my father forcing himself to like Charlie just for my sake. It was a nice change, to say the least.

"If everyone could make their way into the dining room," my mother's voice filled the space, "Dinner will now be served."

"I'm sorry if this is boring you," I whispered as we took our seats, "I promise I'll make it up to you."

Charlie flashed a grin. "I am having a lovely time," his voice whispered back, "But I'll definitely take you up on that promise if you are offering."

Charlie placed his hand on my knee from under the table. I looked at him, seeing a cheeky smile on his lips as he chatted with someone on his other side, slowly sliding his hand further up my thigh. I could feel my face begin to flush once again as his hand grazed the slit of my dress.

"You alright, dear?" His voice teasingly whispered into my ear.

"You should keep your hands to yourself before you get us in trouble," I whispered back, attempting to be stern with my tone. The smile pulling at the corners of my mouth called my bluff.

"I think you quite like it, though."

I could feel him move in-between my legs, causing my hand to reach for his wrist to pull him away from going any further.

"Don't be bad," my eyes dropped to his hand, the smile vanishing from my face, noticing the small cuts and bruises that were apparent on his knuckles, "What happened?"

Charlie quickly pulled away from my grasp, clearing his throat, "I fell, it's fine."

"You fell?" I questioned, raising a brow, "How? When?"

"A few days ago," he attempted to disguise the tense look on his face with a comforting smile, "Just outside. I'm fine, Dylan."

I cautiously watched as he spoke, unable to believe his words. Charlie reached for his glass of wine, taking a long sip.

"Outside, where?" I pushed, keeping my voice low with the hopes of not catching the attention of those sitting close by.

Charlie clenched his jaw. "Just, uh, at school. I tripped," his eyes shifted back towards mine, "Let's just drop it, alright?"

I gave Charlie a short nod in response, turning my attention back to my plate. I began to feel uneasy. I didn't know what it was, but something wasn't sitting right with me.

"Excuse me," I announced to the table as I stood from my seat.

I hurried out of the dining room, unsurprised anyone had noticed my departure due to being too engrossed in their conversations. I needed to get out of the room for a second, allow myself to collect my thoughts, whatever they could possibly be. Hearing footsteps follow me from behind, I quickened my pace down the hallway until I reached the doors to the library. It was the only room left in the house where I could find comfort.

Walking towards the window, I fixated on the view. Everything looked so peaceful outside, which was the complete opposite of the storm swarming inside my head.

The door creaked open, causing my muscles to tense.

"Dylan, what's wrong?" Charlie's voice filled the room, the sound of his footsteps following as he entered the room.

"I just needed a moment," I mumbled, continuing my gaze to the window.

"A moment to do what?"

I slowly turned around. "Think." I shrugged my heavy shoulders, crossing my arms over my chest.

Charlie approached with slow steps. "Think about what, exactly?"

I found myself staying silent, my eyes shifting to the floor as I was unable to find the words. There were too many thoughts running through my head to put together a coherent sentence.

"We should get back, Dylan," Charlie nodded towards the door, "You know, before people start to think we left the table to do it, or something."

I glanced back up to see an amused look on Charlie's face, his joke an attempt to ease the apparent tension building in the room. Charlie reached for my hand, guiding me towards the door. I watched as his injured hand reached for the handle.

"Did you hit him?" I blurted out.

Charlie released my hand. "What?"

"Did you hit him?" I repeated, my eyes shifting to his. I took a deep breath to calm the nerves apparent in my voice, "Did you get in a fight with Hunter?"

I could see Charlie's body tense at my question; his jaw clenched just as it had at the table.

"Dylan," his voice was low as he spoke, "I already told you what happened."

"I... I don't believe you."

His head cocked to the side. "You don't? Why's that?"

"Your law skills might help you read people, but you're not a very good liar."

Charlie let a frustrated sigh slip as he stepped towards me, placing his hand on my waist. "Let's go back to the table, and we'll talk after, alright?"

A shiver shot down my spine, hearing his words. I took a hesitant step back, allowing his hand to fall from my side.

"Dylan, please, we will talk about this after."

"No," I spoke firmly as I shook my head, "I'm not going back to that table until I know the truth." I could feel my stomach beginning to twist into a firm knot, "You hit him. You punched your best friend because of what? Because of me? I can't believe-"

"I was defending you!" Charlie interrupted, attempting to keep his voice low, a hint of anger in his tone.

"Defending me?" I whispered in disbelief, "Defending me from what?"

Charlie raised his hand to the back of his neck. "Hunter," he spoke softer this time, "What he was saying about you... I just couldn't control myself."

"What did he say about me?" I questioned, feeling a mix of fear and rage build inside me, "Tell me."

"You really want to know?"

I hesitantly nodded. "Yes."

And just like that, Charlie confirmed the one fear I had all along: Hunter Grayson never loved me.

2019; yikes. 

chq: what do you think charlie told dylan?

chq: what do you think is going to happen next? will dylan and charlie stay together?

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