After The Bet

8

"Once you break me, don't ever try to fix me. It won't work."

Charlotte

"Charlotte?"

I had never felt this much pain in the past whenever someone said my name before. The last time it hurt this bad was the last time my father cooed my name under his whiskey stained breath. Equating this moment to that moment almost seemed unfair. Almost.

What I saw on that laptop screen justified my thoughts and feelings though. I walked into that frat house with a confidence hanging on my shoulders when Cole was next to me. Any of that lingering confidence has since been ripped straight from my hands as I stumbled my way out of the house.

"Charlotte."

My name no longer rang as if it was a question. I squeezed my eyes shut as I kept pushing through the sweaty, drunk crowd dancing to some song I could hardly comprehend. I opened my eyes again and made the mistake of turning my head around. The crowd was still partially split from where I had walked through previously, but I could see another figure tearing his way through the crowd. I knew who it was, and I had to keep pushing forward before he found me.

I finally broke through the crowd and swung the door open, letting it slam shut behind me. My pace picked up to a fast walk, and I crossed my arms as the breeze picked up speed. The second door slam was evident amongst the silence of the night. I didn't turn around, even when I felt a looming presence following me.

I knew who it was, even when his hand reached out to take hold of my upper arm. I jerked my arm away from his grasp as I spun around to look up to him. He put his arms up in defense, chuckling afterwards. Even if he didn't know what was going on, he should've known I would have found out his dirty little secret in the end.

"Woah, don't give me the stink eye." Cole smirked as he went to touch my chin with his fingertips. I pulled back from his touch, fighting back the tears that were about to spill. His smirk turned into a frown as I stepped back from him, and his eyes filled with concern. Fake concern. I mean, how could he actually care about me after doing something so cynical? "Charlotte, what's wrong?"

"You should know." I spat at him. He knew exactly what I was talking about. His entire demeanor seemed to slowly collapse in front of me. In any other situation where we were fighting I would feel remorse, but there was not a single ounce of remorse left in my body.

"I don't know–" He began to lie to me. I wasn't putting up with it though. I went to turn around again, but he snatched my wrist in his grasp. Although I sent him a dirty look, he refused to let go. Instead of a simple 'I'm sorry' or 'I fûcked up,' he instead asked me "Who told you?"

"You're joking." I couldn't hold the tears back any longer, yet I couldn't help but to laugh at my own pain as he looked at me. "That's really none of your business. The fact that you can't even own up to your own mistake or even apologize shows who you really are."

"Charlotte.."

"No, don't say my name." I snapped at him. "You told me you loved me. You told me you cared about me. You took me on so many dates. You met my family, and they loved you like you were part of the family already. We shared laughs and tears. We shared intimate moments together, just you and me. They meant everything to me. I see how you thought about them though."