15 | taped to her pen

32K 2.1K 1K
                                    

| 15 |

What did Britain's ruler sing after she murdered her husband? Killer Queen

SKYLAR FOUND HER lying facedown on the carpeted floor of the bookstore.

"What the hell, Char?" Charlotte saw Skylar's heels in her peripheral vision. They were black and white, polka-dotted wedges. They suited her.

Charlie made a guttural sound in the back of her throat. A sort of groan-moan-wail thing. Her nose was starting to tickle from the dust in the carpet.

"What happens when you like a guy, Skylar?" Her voice was muffled because of the rug. Her sister then sat cross-legged in front of her with a sigh.

"A guy?"

"Yeah, a guy."

"..."

"..."

"Well..." Skylar began, and Charlotte propped her head up with her fist. "If you don't do anything about it, nothing could happen."

Charlie stayed quiet.

"It's like the laws of motion. Y'know, every object in rest stays in rest unless acted upon by an external force."

Charlotte raised an eyebrow.

"In order for a steady relationship to become something more, something has to happen in order for the relation to take flight."

"Interesting."

"I need to remember that, that was pretty good..." she muttered. "The laws of love. Nah, too cheesy."

"Anyways," Charlotte interrupted Skylar's train of thought. "What if you, err, hypothetically, obviously... Kissed him, and you're actually really good friends with that boy, and you've been ignoring him since because you've been really confused about stuff?"

Charlotte scowled at Skylar's growing grin, the grin that she got when she thought of ships like Percy Jackson and Annabeth Chase. Her growing grin scaring Charlotte.

"Stop that."

"Stop what?" Skylar said, grinning even wider, like the Cheshire cat.

"Ughhh," she groaned, burying her face in her hands.

"Okay, okay," Skylar took a deep breath. "I guess, just do the thing that feels right. The thing that makes you most happy."

Charlotte smiled, a plan forming in her mind. "Hypothetically."

"Hypothetically."

•|•|•

Her palm were sweaty. The ding of the bell made her heart stutter.

God, what should she call him? Theodore? Teddy? Maybe he likes Theo? Oh good God. It was too late- well, early. It was like one in the morning. Oh no, she was rambling.

He didn't notice her. He was currently fiddling with something, facing away from her. It looked like he was making something, maybe a coffee. Or hot chocolate.

Every step was agonizing, every step more painful than the last. She couldn't gulp. She struggled for air.

Charlie leaned against the counter. Her arms were crossed on it, the counter cold to the touch. She doubted Theodore noticed her yet.

There was one other person in the Dunkin' Donuts. He was in the corner, sitting in a two-person table, maybe waiting for a coffee.

What should she do, should she say hi, should she cough?

A Note A DayWhere stories live. Discover now