His Girl Charlotte

25

Charlotte is fast asleep when I get to my room. Her phone lays in her open hand and I reach for it.

Her background is a photo of her and Stan. She is on his back infront of the Disneyland castle. It looks as though they are a couple even though I know Stan is gay. Thank god. I am the jealous type towards her.

She doesn't keep a passcode on her phone so I have total access to all her apps. I double push on the home screen and the last apps she had open were Facebook, Instagram, and her texting app. But when I search through all of them, I don't see anything that could've made her so sulky.

She seems fine though. Really.

Yes, she seems a bit sad but she says she's fine. Maybe it's her time of the month or something, girls get extra sad I've noticed from watching my mom. Everything made her emotional when she was on her period.

I put her phone next to mine on the nightstand and pull her to my chest. I play with her dark hair between my fingers. She's the girl that has gotten into my heart, uncontrollably took it and I can't help how much she means to me. I don't know what's gotten into me.

I WAKE UP ALONE, it is early morning. The sun is just barely rising over Portland when I look out the window.

I sit up from my bed and rub my eyes. My door is cracked so I decide she must be downstairs.

"Charlotte?" I knock on her bedroom door as I open it at the same time. She's sitting at her vanity doing her makeup.

"What are you doing?" I ask her.

"Oh, goodmorning." She says, when she turns her head to look at me, she stares at my body. I forgot I'm shirtless. I can't help but smirk because I always make her cheeks turn a pretty shade of pink.

"What are you doing in here?" I walk over and wrap my arms around her. I look at her through the mirror.

"Getting ready. I haven't gone to work in weeks, I'm so sorry."

"You don't need too, I have Miranda covering you for as long as you wish." I tell her.

"I have bills to pay and responsibilities." She puckers her lips as she wipes some deep pink color over them.

"I'll keep doing it for you." I tell her. When is she going to understand, I don't care? I actually enjoy helping her out .

"No, that's not right." She closes the little tube and stands it up by the vanity mirror next to about six other lipsticks.  My eyes lower, watching her from the mirror reflection. Her eyes meet mine, she huffs. "I'm serious, don't medal with my personal life anymore. You don't have too."

"I don't have too? I don't feel like I have too, I want too and I can." I unwrap my arms from her and stand up.

"Well Michael," she spins her body around in her seat to look up at me, "You can but you won't! Enough is enough."

"You're gonna give me attitude, really?" I can't believe her right now. I'm gonna snap. "What the fuck happened last night? Huh! What are you and your gay best friends keeping from me?" I step closer, hovering over her body. Her lips form an 'o' shape, she gasps. Fuck.

"My gay best friends?" She pushes at my stomach, not really having any impact, she stands up from her seat. "Is that supposed to be some sort of insult or something?"

"Stop ignoring my fucking question, god damnit, what the fuck happened last night? You have never acted like this! So fucking quiet and bratty."

"Bratty!" She throws her arms in the air.

"Yes! Exactly bratty! Who the fuck bought you all of this?" I wave my arm around the pink bedroom and master closet.

"I didn't ask you too! I didn't ask you for anything!" She starts taking off my t-shirt she has on from last night. I watch her change into a sweater as I collect my thoughts. She's pushing me over the edge.

"Stop getting dressed, you're not working today or anytime soon for that matter. Don't forget who you work for, baby. Get your ass back to bed and fix your prissy mood." I rip the folded up jeans that she had picked up out of her hands and point to her bed.

She doesn't budge, her face turns pink as her eyes begin looking extra glossy.

Don't fucking cry... don't cry. The look in her eyes will surely make me go weak.

"I'm leaving." She cries, taking the jeans out of my arms. "God I'm so damn tired of always crying."

It takes all I have to not wrap her up in my arms and beg her to stay.

"Where do you plan on going?"

"To see my gay best friend."

When she walks past my shoulder I hold her wrist.

"I can't lose you, not again." My voice is hushed. For a moment she looks speechless, before pulling her arm away.

"You just did."