Being Alive [Charlie Barber]

Chapter 14 : Alone

You'd only been gone from his normal routine one day but it caused him to spiral, thinking about all of the ways he was betraying his family, second-guessing it all. It was the same thing that happened to you the night before when you called your sister. Suddenly, the gravity of your situation truly hit you just as it was hitting him.

You were the other woman.

Charlie was a cheater.

In the same way that you realized all of your New York life revolved around Charlie, he was also realizing that all of his newfound happiness revolved around you. You two were both so dependent on the thrill that you gave each other that having it be put into question, even for just one night or one day, made the sickness of it all so clear.

And the worst part was, regardless of how nauseous and conflicted your relationship made you feel, right now when you were apart, all that you and Charlie wanted was each other.

You were each other's source of anxiety and also each other's source of comfort.

When you returned to work the next day, you purposefully came in a few minutes late, trying to delay the amount of time that you and Charlie would have alone. Usually, you'd hang around for about ten minutes before work started, sipping coffee and giggling about something in the corner together.

You didn't feel ready for that. You still had it in your mind that you were going to end it, you didn't know how to act normal with him with that in the back of your mind.

When you entered the room, rehearsal was already underway, actors positioning themselves on the space on the floor where the stage would be when they were performing. Charlie was sitting on a folding chair, watching with a hand on his chin and the script in his lap.

There was an empty seat beside him and you knew it was for you.

You shuffled inside, trying to be silent and unseen. "Sorry." You muttered to him, apologizing for the late arrival as you sat down on the seat. You couldn't even look at him.

In contrast to your avoidance, Charlie's eyes were trained right on you, staring at you. His mouth was still set in the same concentrated line but his eyes lit up. He could smell your familiar perfume.

"You're fine." He told you in a soft, deep voice. "Feeling better?" He added, glancing between you and the actors now.

You took a deep breath. You felt worse. "Kind of." You answered anyways.

Charlie said nothing. He felt this new coldness from you that wasn't there the day before, it made his stomach twist. "Did you bring your copy?" He asked you, pointing to your empty lap. You had your own script you jotted your notes down on, just for your practice.

You sighed, you had been so scatterbrained that morning that you forgot it. "No."

"That's okay," Charlie assured you. He had to hold himself back from calling you 'honey' in the way he almost reflexively did so. "Write on mine if you need to. Just use your pen." He reminded you. The purple pen, the one that stood out against his angry red one.

Your eyes didn't meet his, staying on the way his large capable hands looked as he flipped through the pages. It always made you happy to know that he trusted you enough to let you write on his copy. Now that you were questioning everything about him, you wondered if he only trusted your judgment because you let him fuck you.

"Thanks." You said softly, feeling nervous at the thought. What if you weren't the right person for this job at all? What if the only reason you got it was because Charlie wanted you for himself?