Chapter 10 (One Call)

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Austin and I were being tortured! Since he was going to be her pretend boyfriend for a day, we were filling him in on things he needed know about Charlotte. We told him her likes, dislikes, even things that make her blush. By we I mean myself and Charlotte who was having us taste test the foods she was trying to make. Like I said, Austin and I were being tortured.

Never in the history of America has macaroni ever been brown. How she burnt it was still a mystery to my mother. Charlotte's chocolate chip cookies were burnt, her broccoli and cheese casserole was burnt, even her garlic bread was black and crispy. My mother made us try it regardless of the condition, just to amuse the skeptical Charlotte. She knew it wasn't right, the sadness in her eyes told us that. Those pitiful looks of hers is how Austin and I somewhat continued eating the food.

"The broccoli casserole is that bad," I choked, grabbing my glass of water and chugging it down. 

"Neither are the cookies," Austin gargled from under the sink tap. 

Charlotte plopped down in a chair across of me, her face and hair covered in every ingredient possible that was able to cling to her. She slapped her over mitts on the table, frustrated about not being successful with her cooking.

"Maybe we should try something less complicated, Charlotte," my mother suggested. "How about we start off with frying bologna?"

Charlotte shook her head in protest, her red cheeks alerting me that she was embarrassed. This was the perfect time for Austin to prove that he could handle situations like these in case they were to happen tomorrow. "Austin.." He pulled his mouth out from under the sink spigot, looking to me. I nodded to the distressed Charlotte, getting my point across that he should help her out a little.

He shut off the sink, striding over to comfort his distraught fake-girlfriend. Using my fork, I poked the casserole on my plate, wondering if it would explode if I kept pestering it.  Austin took a seat next to Charlotte, taking her ashamed face in his hands and planting a kiss on hers lips.

Is that his method of fixing everything?!?

I gagged when I saw his tongue force it's way into her mouth. Poor Charlotte flailed about at the fact he had surprised her once again with his lips. My foot reacted on its on, forcefully coming in contact with Austin's shin.  He ignored me and kissed Charlotte deeper.

My mother's jaw had escalated to the floor in surprise. She had no clue how crazy Austin was until now. Thankfully he ended the disgusting nightmare and pulled away from Charlotte's lips. Her cheeks were no longer blushing in embarrassment, her whole face was showing how flustered she was. "Don't give up, Charlotte," he encouraged. "I'll reward you if you keep at it."

With a wink that he hooks every girl with, Charlotte was putty in his hands. "Come on," he smiled, shamelessly leaning in and tugging her heart strings by giving her a faint kiss. "I'll hold you while you cook."

He pulled her up and put her to work. I had a feeling he knew something about Charlotte that I didn't know. I studied the two while my mom explained to Charlotte what to do. Austin kept Charlotte close to him when she started preparing the food. He wasn't shy about showing her affection and attention. She actually managed to fry bologna properly when he grasped the spatula with her and guided her through it.

It suddenly hit me. The affection, the kisses, how easily it was to get her to try again. Charlotte just wants to be cared for by a man. It made sense as to what was happening before my eyes. "See, Charlotte!" Austin cheered. "Best sandwich ever," he mumbled, stuffing half of the sandwich she made into his mouth. 

Charlotte giggled, using her palms to wipe away the mayonnaise on the corners of his mouth. He tossed his arms around her, making her smile by planting his lips on her forehead. Everything made sense as to why she was with Clay. He made her feel like a girl, just like how Austin was doing. "Brant, you've got to try one of these sandwiches," Austin insisted.

I stood up, heading over and accepting the sandwich she carefully prepared for me. When I took a bite it actually tasted like a normal fried bologna sandwich. "Nice job, Char," I praised. She proudly grinned, tightly hugging my torso as a thank you for bravely tasting her food. 

A whoosh made our heads snap to the stove where the frying pan had caught fire. My first reaction was to pick Charlotte up and get a safe distance away. Austin grabbed the frying pan's handle, quickly moving the pan into the sink and cutting on the cold water to put out the fire. "Are you okay?" I asked Charlotte, feeling her legs slowly drop from my waist.

She looked up at me, her wide blue eyes showing admiration when they locked on mine. "My hero," she softly teased. I slightly laughed, realizing that my saving her instinct was sharp as ever.

"My damsel," I grinned, purposely lifting her off the ground in a hug. Her hair flowed over my head when she lowered her forehead down to mine, the smile on her lips reminding me that even though she gets frustrated, she always smiles after it all. 

"Brant, are you sure you don't want to take my place tomorrow?" 

Realizing how this must look, I put Charlotte down and cleared my throat. Austin gave a smug look, his eyes flickering between Charlotte and I. "You would make a beautiful bride, Charlotte," my mother randomly stated, taking Austin's taunting to a whole new level.

I growled before looking at Charlotte. "Tonight is off," I grumbled, insinuating that there was no way we would end up at her old house together alone.

"Brant.." 

I didn't like how her eyes turned to grey, but it wasn't going to happen. The last thing I wanted was for everyone's heads to be filled with fantasies of Charlotte and I. She may make a beautiful bride, just not mine. My mother could get that crazy idea out of her mind right now! 

I stormed upstairs, making sure to rattle the house by slamming my door shut to my room when I entered inside of it. There was no way I could avoid the irritation when it came to someone not seeing the seriousness behind my friendship with Charlotte. If she was going to be with anyone, I was thinking that she was going to be the one to lure Austin into settling down. It was clear he was interested in her, and if he gave her time I'm sure she would understand that the feelings were mutual. I'd rather her stay away from every man on earth, I just wasn't going to stop her from having happiness. 

I sat down beside my bed, reaching under it and retrieving my small wooden box I made when I was younger. With a key from my drawer, I unlocked the padlock on the pine box so I could see the contents inside. On the top is my knife collection that hid the true meaning of this box. 

I carelessly dumped the knives out onto the floor. Inside the box it seemed empty until you lifted the trap bottom. Photos of Charlotte and I when we were little lied within, along with the letters I lied about having. She confessed to still having mine, I was just too embarrassed to say I kept hers as well. 

They all told me that she missed me, that she wanted to come back home. I knew by the way she wrote that she wasn't fitting in around New York. In every letter I sent to her I made sure she knew that I thought she was beautiful. Was it so wrong of me to call my best friend beautiful without having a romantic meaning behind it? A compliment, that's all it was yet everyone blows everything out of proportion. I can't hug her, I can't hold her, I can't laugh with her, I can't compliment her. What was I suppose to do, just stare at Charlotte? I probably wouldn't be able to do that without my mother breaking out her old wedding gown. 

"Brant?"

I scowled. Why was she here? Didn't she get that I didn't want to be around her right now, she was just making things worse. "Go away, Charlotte!" I shouted.

She banged on the door, demanding to be let in. Who could marry a girl who doesn't even know how to check and see if a door is locked or not? I tucked the letters and pictures back in the box, pushed down the trap door in the bottom, and lastly dumped my knife collection back inside. By the time I had it padlock and shoved under my bed, she learned that the door had been unlocked the whole time.

She walked in without permission, taking a seat beside me on the floor. "I'm sorry, Brant..." I forced myself to look at her. "This is because of me being impulsive, right?"

"It's not just you Charlotte..." I tried explaining. 

"It's alright," she told me with a weak smile. "Maybe I am trouble like you said, Brant? Maybe I should just stay in my old house until my dad says I can go back to New York. I don't want to embarrass you."

She was taking this the wrong way, it wasn't even her at all. It seemed easier for her if she was to take the blame for everything, even if it wasn't her fault. She'd take the blame if it solved my problems. "Shut up, Charlotte," I quietly ordered. "You're not trouble, you're not leaving me, and you don't embarrass me."

She slightly laughed. "I wouldn't call staying up the street and coming over to do chores and eat meals as leaving you, Brant." 

I nuzzled my nose against her cheek, hiding my smile so she couldn't see. "I'll stay with you tonight under one condition," I whispered. "I get to hold you all night and we sneak out tomorrow night too."

I pulled my face away from hers slightly, seeing her shocked and bemused expression. I know I can be a little confusing some times, that's why she was my best friend. One look at me was all she needed to forget everything that happened earlier. Her face slowly changed, her thoughts changing along with it.

"Would you marry me, Brant?" she asked.

My brows raised in interest. "Are you asking?" I questioned back in reply. Subconsciously, my fingertips brushed her bangs to the side, away frown her crystal blue eyes that reflect every emotion she feels. She was so easy to read when she didn't have her guard up. 

"Let's hypothetically say that I did ask you to marry me. Would you say yes?"

Would I say yes? In order for her to propose it would mean that she loved me in the serious way. When I think about that, I think of a rich girl and a not so rich guy marriage. This wasn't Green Acres the TV show where everything could be fine. Things like this in reality just doesn't mesh together. 

"I would say no," I said truthfully. 

She nodded, pulling her knees up to her chest. "That would probably be best," she softly laughed. "You need a good wife who can cook more than fried bologna sandwiches."

I tugged her into my side. "That's not why I would say no, Charlotte. I wouldn't be able to support your desires. Around here the male is the big supporter of the family..."

"I wouldn't ask for anything," she protested. "I'm fine with wearing worn blue jeans and a hand me down shirt. I don't need expensive clothes or jewelry."

She seemed serious about it. My assumptions about her not being happy with the rich and famous life like her mother were right. "Then hypothetically..." I sighed. "If you weren't annoying and knew about everything that gets on my nerves, I might would marry you."

She shoved me, complaining about how insensitive I was toward her. It wasn't me to be sensitive, not all the time anyway. I'd be sensitive when she really needed me to be. This marriage nonsense wasn't what she needed to be worrying about right now anyhow.  "How bad is Chanel? I'm thinking I should prepare mentally for an encounter with her," I said in order to change the subject.

Charlotte snorted in response. "She has a squeaky voice that sounds a heck of a lot like nails dragging down a chalkboard. Her attitude sucks. Don't be surprised if she complains about everything."

Pretty much I needed to expect to see the queen of complete evil. I was actually wanting to meet this girl ruining Charlotte's life. It would be easier to talk to Charlotte about her if I knew exactly how cruel the woman was. She hasn't really opened up to me about family issues. For the last week she's been caught up in Clay who was thankfully not standing in my way anymore. Now that she was alone, I was the only person she trusted in. 

"I don't want her to come here, Brant. She's so manipulative, and I'm scared of what might happen."

I was scared of how it was going to effect her. Jives didn't say how long they would be staying. If they stayed longer than a day, we would all probably go insane. "I'm scared of what might happen too. They'll probably be sleeping in my bed and I don't even want to think about what's going to happen in it." Charlotte cracked a grin, looking over at me when I mindlessly trailed a finger down her tanning neck. When she first got here she was pale as a ghost, now she had a tan from working in the sun. 

"Chanel doesn't have the decency not to charm my father into sex, so yes, I would be concerned. I'll buy you a new bed."

I laughed, quickly leaning over and giving her cheek a quick kiss. "Thanks, New York."

She gave a nod then rested her chin on top of her knees. It was beating her down pretty badly. I didn't know what else to do in order to help. This couldn't be easily fixed like her careless relationship with Clay. It's been going on way longer than a week, full of hardships and misunderstandings. Charlotte loved Phillip, he loved her, but this wedge separating the two was just causing more heartache than anything. If I could fix it for Charlotte, I definitely would. 

She wanted and deserved a good relationship. If she kept being careless as to what she felt with anyone, it would only end in turmoil. Charlotte wanted her father's love and a romantic love that every girl desires. I'm still thinking that she can whip Austin into shape. He may be compulsive when it comes to girls, but he has never disrespected one. I was pretty sure he was smart enough to keep his lips off his ex no matter what the circumstance.  

I could see Charlotte marrying Austin, maybe having a kid a couple of years later. Austin would be a good father, his step dad was a good fatherly influence that he grew up with. Despite how he may act sometimes, he'd be an excellent father.  

One look at her and I knew that she would find the right one. It may not be Austin, but I needed to have a serious talk with him about her.

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