Charlotte's Story

Motion

Ryder's POV:

I didn't think; I went into motion, grabbing my keys off of my counter.

The non-planning happened after I read everything; her words were displayed on the screen. I had left in a hurry leaving her last blog entry up.

My brain was on overdrive.

"What is her address?" I ask, my voice sounding angry.

"Who?" My brother Luke asked, his voice sounding amused; if he kept it up, I would drive over to his house and show him that I was not in a joking mood.

"Ren. I need Ren's address."

I could hear the smile on his face, "Um... Why would I have it?"

"Quit fucking around with me, Luke. I know you have her address."

He laughs at me again as my fingers curl around the steering wheel tighter, every knuckle of mine turning white.

"I do" he takes his time, as I am driving aimlessly without an address. I had no clue where Ren lived. Or if she was in driving distance for the time limit I had for today. I can hear his feet shuffling across the concrete, walking from outside to inside.

"Hold on," I  listen to a door close. "Why do you need this?"

"Just give it to me."

"I emailed it to you; she lives in Old Orchard."

"Old Orchard?" I ask, thinking about how fast I can get there, my foot inching down on the gas.

"Yea, she lives in a beach condo on the ocean. But again... Why do you need this?" the amusement was back in his voice.

"I just do," I say before clicking off.

Two long years, I had gone without seeing her.

I wish I could say it had been two years since I had last thought about her, but that would be the biggest lie I could ever tell.

Every day walking down the streets of Portland, I kept my eyes opened looking left to right, constantly searching for her. To know that she was well or happy. To know anything about her. But I never did find her, and it made sense now knowing that she lives in Old Orchard.

About a forty-five-minute drive from Portland, depending on who is driving. When I think of Old Orchard, I picture a tourist town with some locals who live on the ocean.

Ren was now one of those locals, a condo on the beach. I am as happy as I can be for her without her in my life.

Three nights ago, my curiosity won over, and I finally dove into the realm of her writing.

Now I knew everything about her life.

It made me sick knowing that any guy out there could read her blog and become obsessed with her. Posting pictures over the years had become more of a regular thing for Ren. Especially in the last year, blog after blog had pictures of her; her feet buried into the sand on the beach, a picture of when she first got up in the morning, it was endless.

Her beautiful face was all over the web.

I would have been able to stay in my Ren-free Life if it wasn't for three days ago at work. I had done quick work at becoming a loan officer at Portland Bank after college. It helped that this was what my father did, and it was the same bank he worked at before he died.

I was browsing the web during lunch, and an ad popped up: Charlotte's Life.

I stared at it.

On the bottom left corner, her face was on the ad; I squinted at the small box, trying to see her eyes. I dismissed the page and kept browsing, eating the hamburger I had picked up from the food cart outside.

Ten minutes later, the same ad popped up on the lower right corner of the screen; this time, the whole box was her face. It was as if she was taunting me. I growled, thinking this was a joke. I was reading the scores from the night before on ESPN. There was no reason that her blog, out of all the ads out on the internet, should be popping up on my computer.

Nothing I searched should connect me to a woman's blog about her life. My mouse hovered over the x on the top of the screen; I clicked it, the screen goes back to my desktop of a generic sunset background.

Her beautiful face, no longer on my computer screen. Was her hair lighter?

All I could think about the rest of the day was her stupid blog and those sparkling light green eyes. It was a sign that I needed to know what she had written; after all, I was one of the main characters in the earlier years.

Charlotte's Life is the first link on the search engine's list. I stand, stretching my arms, walking back and forth in my living room, thinking about if I should continue if I should go down the rabbit hole. I would never come back up for air if I did. Wasn't I finally free of thinking about her every waking second? My inner conscious tells me I need to read it and move on from it.

Move on from her finally.

I needed closure.

I crack open a beer from the fridge before I sit down and start to read her words; it sounds just like her. It was as if her words were filling the room as if she was sitting next to me. It seemed a little exaggerated from what I recalled.  I remember the moment she came into my life, flipping everything upside down.

Nothing was ever the same...

She walked in, unlocking the front door leaving it to stand wide open. I wanted to lecture her; a murderer could have wandered in right behind her. I was slumped down in my recliner; she didn't see me from the front door.

Her eyes went wide as she saw the open floor concept with the kitchen and the living room.

The kitchen was a palace for most college students' dorms; it was a lot to take in. She was wearing jean shorts and an Ohio University t-shirt, with tan boat shoes. Her hair was piled up into a bun, a few strands framed in her heart shape face, and she had pushed her white aviator sunglasses onto the top of her head.

The sun had already set; her eyes were large as she looked at everything, taking everything in for the first time. And then this goofy-ass grin popped up on her face, and I couldn't look away from her plump lips, and then I couldn't peel my eyes away from her.

My sister Mandy had told me I would have a girl roommate.

I had groaned and said, "she will probably be a dud."

Mandy had hit me in the arm and said, "you just need one roommate that will put up with your shit."

She was right; I had gone through four roommates in one year.

I didn't like having a roommate, but I didn't make enough money to rent the apartment on my own.

Peeking up at the girl who was all doe eye and mystical, I knew she was not a dud at all; she was gorgeous, and I knew I was in deep, deep trouble.

I shake the thought of the first time seeing her out of my head, but it is too hard to shake off her look the first time her eyes had landed on mine. They went wide, and even though she didn't blog about it, she took a double-take of my body.

Her eyes started on my face and worked their way down to my feet and back up again. It turned me on. She finally rested her eyes on my eyes.

I wondered if she was wondering if I was single or not, and then she ruined it thinking I was her roommate's boyfriend.

So instead of being polite and shaking her petite hand, with an infinity ring on her middle finger, I was a jerk to her and walked away, leaving her shocked and terrified of me.

That was how I wanted her to stay... It would have made things easier.