The Art of Yearning

Broken Promises

The following days back in your hometown were over in a blink of an eye. The hot, humid air turning into hot weather, with diverse landscapes scattered over the California city. You carried yourself differently from what you learned from your father. Feelings of accomplishments running in your veins from passing the exam you had so many doubts about.

You didn't anticipate your relationships with Charlie and Henry to become closer during your time home. But, when he asked, you'd read to Henry, told him stories you heard from your youth, and played with his toys with him. You could go on for days, but his week with Charlie was well over.

As for you and Charlie, you both couldn't take your hands off of each other. With the sight of another presence nowhere near, both your clothes would be ripped off. Marking every section of his house with memories of him deep inside you, his mouth tasting every part of you. You rarely stayed in your apartment, only using it to change clothes or shower. Even if you both didn't have the energy to, you'd figure something out. The only time you didn't repeat his name on your tongue in pleasure was when you both were at work. Which he was doing much of.

Most nights, you wouldn't see him until the morning or hear from him on a call. His doubts about helping students showcase their own plays were constantly on his mind. You knew he was trying to figure out the new changes, but his stress was something you could see so clearly. As if the red hot aura around his body was bright, blinding you with each huff of air he exhaled. Or the shortness of his words to you.

You stared at his message on your phone, trying to see if you should answer or let it be. Your two questions being answered with a yes. Which he clearly did not read. "You're staring?" You looked up from your phone, taking a bite of your apple.

"Oh, I was just about to text you from across this table. You okay?" Hunter giggled at you, using her phone as a mirror to apply her red lipstick.

It was small. You thought. It didn't worry you as much now that you prepared the sentences in your mind that you would ask Hunter. You smiled, shaking your head with a shrug. "Sorry, I am here with you now."

Feeling quick lips land on your cheek, Max comes into view, pressing his lips on Hunter's before he sits next to her. He grabs your hand with the apple, awkwardly squeezing your hand.

"I know I saw you this morning, but it was a quick glance. Busy day. What about you two?" Max questions, taking his food container out of his bag, glancing around the busy office cafeteria. Beginning to open your mouth, Max interrupts you. "Are you going tomorrow?"

"I'm not sure what you are meaning." You mumbled.

"Oh," He giggles, "It's the company cocktail party."

As soon as you hear party, you tune out—the last moments at parties not ending how you expected it to. The first time, over pillow talk, Charlie had mentioned how you ended up on his lap, calling him things that you wouldn't expect to call someone you were first getting to meet. Then the second time, where you ended up in a jail cell. Needing to force conversations with Charlie before you ended up in Hunter's guest bedroom, both your apologies ending with your limbs intertwined.

You laugh, shaking your head at the lack of invitation. Especially with Charlie's busy schedule, you'd be alone. Needing to stick with your best friends, who you knew, would make every moment of the party miss Charlie, or you'd end up in boring conversations. Maybe even bumping into who you didn't want to bump into. Parker.

"Please bring Charlie. I miss that man." Hunter adds with a frown.

"I'll add him to the list so you both can get in." Max gets inside his bag, taking out his notepad. His smile beaming on his face. "I would like to have more conversations with him."