C H A R L O T T E
written by animationchic/aOK706
round five ||
January 31st
7am
"Are you insane? How are you going to fit twenty dates into just two weeks?" Audrey asks me, scrolling frantically through her blackberry. I'm sure she's mentally calculating how many meetings she needs to reschedule for me.
"Do you remember how the Selection was supposed to be like a vacation for me? Like you remember I'm not supposed to be taking as many meetings, right?" I ask her, arching my brow.
She flushes and nods. "Yes, but Charlotte we are so close to getting some of these initiatives through."
"I know." I match her sigh with one of my own. I tilt my head, looking at her, really looking at her. "Why don't you take my meetings?"
"What?" Audrey's eyes widen in fear. "No, I— I can't."
"Why not? You know where I stand with all of them," I tell her. The more I talk about this, the more I like it. "Plus it's your meticulous notes I refer to after every meeting anyway. I see no reason why you can't go in my stead."
"Your father will never allow me—"
"My father is the one pushing me to get to know these men quicker, to make my choice quicker. I can't do that without spending time with them. I can't spend time with them if I'm stuck in meetings all day and only have an hour here and there for the men. I just can't. So he will just have to deal with my proxy," I tell her, putting my hands on her shoulders, steadying her.
"Your proxy?" Audrey croaks and I grin.
"Audrey, you are so incredibly intelligent, it would be a waste if all you ever were is my assistant," I tell her and I mean it. Audrey is intelligent, much more than me. "I've been trying to figure out how we can move your position up, strengthen it for a while now, but I think I finally see the answer. You will be my proxy during the Selection and once it's over act as one of my most trusted advisors."
"A—advisor?" she asks and tears form in her eyes.
"If you want the position, of course," I amend, suddenly unsure if that would be something she would want.
"If I want it? Of course I do!" She grins, chuckling lightly in her way. But a moment later, her face falls. "But are you sure you want me? That I can do it?"
"I have never been more sure," I tell her confidently. "Aud, you have always been there for me. You articulate my ideas better than me half of the time anyways. You get it, you get what I'm going for. And you keep me aware and grounded. So yes, I want you."
"Thank you, Charlotte," Audrey says, her eyes watering with tears of gratitude.
"No thanks needed," I tell my friend as I hug her tightly. "You've earned it."
—
"Okay, but are we doing good thrift store outfits or bad ones?" Frankie asks me, narrowing his eyes at me.
I grin. "I guess you're just going to have to guess and find out."
"Challenge accepted." Frankie's grin matches my own and I can just tell I'm already in trouble.
"Game on," I retort and we separate, going to complete opposite sides of the small store. I tilt my head looking at my options. I need something truly hideous in order to win this game, but all of the men's clothes are so... generic. I had hoped that by coming to the arts district the options would have been a bit more eccentric. Instead I'm just finding button down after button down. I move to a different rack and smile as I find a pair of pants that has one leg cut off, but it's not extreme enough.
"Remind me, what is your size in inflatable pants?" Frankie asks me almost nonchalantly as he moves to look through the rack on the other size of mine.
"Hmmm, I wouldn't know," I joke, pretending to have to think about it. Before he can say anything else I rush to add, "And if it doesn't fit, it's disqualified."
He frowns but agrees as he moves on to another circular rack. I can't tell if he actually put something back, but I figure it's a safe bet to add in a fit rule. I mean, he can't demand I wear a child's shirt now at least.
I'm starting to get frustrated when I find it. The perfect shirt for Frankie. I don't know who wore it, or why they would have even purchased it, but now, for this, it's perfect. Red sequins and purple feathered tassels hang off the arms and along the back of the western styled shirt. I giggle to myself, pleased to find it's roughly in his size. Shortly after I find the worst pants possible, green plaid bell bottoms and decide that yes, they clash horribly. Now to accessorize.
I skim the lack of shoe options with a frown on my face. How does this shop only have black dress shoes and converse available? I shrug and pull a pair of plain black converse in Frankie's size off the rack, deciding to give the guy a break. I pull a hat at random, not even looking at it as I notice my time is running out. I had seen a pair of sunglasses by the register that I knew I wanted to get. They're awful, these small flame spectacles that while they kind of match the red in the shirt are just ugly in general.
The cashier raises her pierced brow at me as she checks me out.
"Are you sure?" she asks as she takes the horrid shirt from me.
Frankie groans as he sees it, having come up behind me to cash out as well. I turn to him, smiling in premature victory before telling the cashier, "Quite."
—
"Man, you play to win, don't you?" Frankie says from the dressing room at the back of the shop.
I laugh, anxiously awaiting the big reveal. "It's not fun if I don't. Now come on, show me."
"Half of the buttons are missing," he complains as he exits the dressing room, his shirt hanging half open.
"Oh, wow," I gasp in between laughter. "I am evil."
Frankie looks up at me grinning, the sunglasses just as awful as I had been anticipating. I don't like the look in his eyes as he hands me a bag and pushes me to the dressing room. "Your turn, Your Highness."
"Frankie, how could you?" I ask, pulling item after item out of the bag. I hear a chortle as something falls out. I squint at it. "What is that?"
"What?" he asks and I can tell he's come up to the dressing room door.
I unlock it, and hold the offending item up for him.
"Oh, that's a half corset," Frankie explains, crossing his arms.
"I can't lace up a corset myself," I tell him, already shaking my head, ready to disqualify the thing. A normal corset, fine. They're not comfortable, but this one... someone decided to bejewel it. Horribly. And half of the jewels are falling off.
"I'll help you," Frankie says and I've never seen him so confident, so smug.
I narrow my eyes at him and close the door in his face. I hear him chuckle as I turn back to the clothes he's chosen for me.
Frankie says I played to win, but so did he. Looking around the dressing room, I hardly know where to start. He chose a red plaid bubble skirt with a green underskirt. A mall elf had to have donated it, because that is the only reason I can see for someone to buy something like this. That's when it dawns on me, that's the theme. Christmas colors. Varying shades of red and green cover the dressing room and none of them actually match. It's Madeline's worst nightmare.
"I think you lost, sir," I call out confidently as I somehow manage to actually get the white bejeweled half corset to tie over my lime green button down. I take one last look in the mirror and shake my head.
"Oh? You're that confident?" he asks and I can hear his smile.
"Yes, because see, you had a theme," I tell him as I open the door. He grins at me wildly, clearly trying not to laugh. I give a flippy curtsy as he takes it all in. From the badly tie dyed knee high socks to the bubble skirt to the half corset to the olive green men's hat.
"You caught on, huh?" Frankie's eyes are bright with amusement.
"Yes, but shame on you. Everyone loves an ugly Christmas outfit," I tell him as I confidently walk to the front of the store.
"Is that so?" He follows me and I look over at him, smiling.
I turn to the cashier and motion between us. "Miss? Whose outfit is objectively worse?"
The poor girl looks between us, stunned. We both look at her, patiently waiting. Finally, after what feels like forever she motions to Frankie's monstrous outfit.
"I win!" I cheer, throwing my hands into the air. I do a small victory dance and instantly stop.
Frankie laughs at the look on my face. "What? Did you not see the bells when you put it all on?"
Okay, maybe he won after all.
February 5th
12:36pm
"Any of these restaurants look interesting?" I ask Levi as we make our way down the alley. Glancing at him, I feel a little self conscious. I had decided to wear one of my favorite dresses and cardigan combos, thinking it would be casual enough but seeing Levi in jeans, a tee and his leather jacket, I still feel a bit overdressed.
"Anything works for me," he says as he walks by my side. His eyes are constantly moving, evaluating and taking in his surroundings at all time.
"Really, nothing looks better than the other?" I try to push for a real answer and he smiles at me.
"I'm a guy, all food is good food."
"That is not what was reported from the gala menu planning forms I read."
"You had clam cakes and fried grasshoppers there," he murmurs and I laugh at the memory.
"Ha, you're not wrong," I glance around us and grin. "So I take it that Ripley's food truck is out of the question."
"Probably a good idea," Levi allows and I look down the line, my smile widening.
"As well as the Nashville Hot Chicken truck?" I try to sound innocent but he knows what I'm referencing.
"Despite what my sister says, I can handle spicy food," he tells me, all seriousness in his tone. Then he adds, "I'm just not a complete masochist who likes to burn their taste buds off, like some people."
"Have you ever had Nashville Hot Chicken?" I ask him, letting a little challenge seep into my words.
"Have you ever had Calgary's triple atomic wings with ghost pepper?" Levi returns my challenge.
"No, but I'd like to when I get the chance," I tell him, proudly.
Levi sighs and takes my hand as he leads me to the food truck, "I'm going to hold you to that, princess."
—
"That's not even chicken," Levi accuses as he settles across from me and frowns down at my plate.
I grin happily at him, "Nope. It's their famous BBQ pulled pork sandwich. But don't worry, I got the Nashville sauce to dip my fries in."
"I didn't realize we could go off menu," Levi says, looking down at his sandwich a bit sadly.
"It's not actually all that hot," I tell him, leaning across the picnic table. "And if you don't like it, I'll be happy to switch."
Levi looks at me, evaluating me, like he's deciding whether or not to trust me. Finally he nods, seeming to agree to my terms. He takes a bite, seeming to brace for the worst but then he looks at me a little surprised.
"It's hot, but like everything else really calms it down. It's good," he tells me as he takes a second bite. I grin, happy that it's not actually too hot for him.
"I'm glad," I tell him and pull out my fork and knife.
"What are you doing?" Levi asks me suddenly and I look up at him, surprised.
"Eating my food?" I say it like it's a question. I mean, it is what I'm trying to do.
"But you got a sandwich," Levi says, looking down at my plate.
"I did," I agree, very, very confused.
"So why do you have a fork and knife?"
"To eat my food," I tell him again, narrowing my eyes, not sure where this is going.
"You don't eat a sandwich with a fork and knife. Spaghetti, cereal sure, but not a sandwich." Levi shakes his head. "That's the whole point of a sandwich."
"I'm sorry." I shake my head. Surely I did not just hear that. "I don't think I heard you right. Did you just say 'cereal'? Like the breakfast food?"
"Yeah, that I get, but the whole point of a sandwich is to eat it with your hands."
"Why do you get eating cereal with a fork? That is obviously a spoon food," I tell him, ignoring his comments completely.
Levi grins, rising to the challenge, "Not if you don't like milk. Then you use a fork to eat your cereal."
"Why not just eat it dry then?" I ask him, not sure why I'm getting worked up about this.
"Have you ever tried to eat Captain Crunch dry? It'll rip your mouth up." Levi's lips quirk up at the corners. He's enjoying himself. "So you use milk to soften and a fork to eat it."
"That's— that's just monstrous," I accuse and he snorts in laughter. I have no argument but I'm still baffled at the thought of someone using a fork to eat their morning cereal.
"Not as monstrous as eating a sandwich with a fork and knife," Levi shoots back.
"I'm wearing off white," I tell him, like it's obvious. Because to me, it is. "It's not princess-like to have BBQ stains all over my front."
"Sucks to suck," Levi says as he reaches across and plucks the utensils out of my hands. He grins widely at me as I gape at him. But it's funny seeing him like this. I'm glad I took him out of the palace. It's doing him good. He hands me a napkin. "You can use this as a bib."
"You would rather I wear a bib than use a knife and fork? Like a dignified person?" I ask him, holding the napkin in front of me.
"Yep," Levi grins as he takes another bite of his food. "You better hurry or your food will get cold."
I laugh as I shake my head and tuck the napkin into my neckline, forming the most unattractive bib in the world. I take the sandwich in my hands and take a bite, a glob of pulled pork promptly falling onto my bib and back onto my plate.
Levi and I look at each other, wide eyed for a moment, before erupting into laughter.
"Alright, just this one time, you can use these," Levi takes pity on me and hands my utensils back.
I dramatically sigh in relief as I take them from him, cutting into my sandwich. Levi just shakes his head and laughs at me once more.
"So what was your first tattoo?" I ask Levi as we walk along the boardwalk. We finished eating quickly, both of us devouring our food.
"A sunflower for my mom," Levi answers without even thinking about it. He holds out his arm, motioning where it should be but I don't see it. "It wasn't very good and faded quite a bit so I had it covered up and got an entire bouquet on my ribs instead."
"Do all of them have meaning?" I ask him, finding myself wondering how many tattoos he actually has and about all the ones I can't see. Oh, wow. Okay, I shake that thought from my head as I feel my cheeks heat up and focus on Levi's eyes once more.
"Yeah, most of them. Some of them were a one-off, just something for fun," Levi looks at me curiously.
"What's the dumbest one you have?" I ask him, grinning.
He grins. "On a failed bet, I had to let Abri and Onyx pick a small tattoo design. I had some space on my calf and they won the rights to it. They picked a guy skateboarding on a gator."
"Why?" I ask, shaking my head, incredulous. How does someone even come up with that idea?
"Well I used to skateboard, but I have no idea why a gator, presumably because it would look stupid." Levi chuckles more to himself than anything else. "And it made Abri laugh."
"You can skateboard?" I ask him, suddenly curious and excited.
"Yeah, is that that surprising?" he asks me, raising his eyebrows questioningly. Those dang eyebrows.
"No, but," I shake my head. I glance around and grin to myself, there it is, just what I was looking for. I grab Levi's hand and drag him across the street and further down the boardwalk. I'm a little breathless when we get there, but Levi just looks between me and the sign in confusion, questioning me once more with those eyebrows. I point to the rental sign and challenge, "Prove it."
Levi smiles at my challenge. And he does.
—
"Ambrose, I am so sorry I am late," I tell Ambrose when I finally find him in the corner of the kitchen.
He looks up from his coffee and gives me a small frown. "Your knee is scraped, are you okay?"
I glance down at my knee and grimace. I hadn't realized it was so visible. I look back at Ambrose and roll my eyes at myself, "I am, I promise. I just am clumsier than I thought. Do you mind waiting just a little longer so I can run and get cleaned up?"
"I don't mind waiting, for you," he says as he stands from his chair and comes to be right in front of me. Now he's looking down at me, a mix of emotions on his face as he adds, "But I have been looking forward to this all day, so if you wouldn't mind being quick?"
"I'll be the quickest," I promise him and turn, darting from the private kitchen.
Guilt nags at me the entire way back to my rooms. I had had such a nice time with Levi the whole time we were out. It was easily the most fun date I've been on yet, and all we did was eat lunch and skateboard. But I let that fun get in the way of everything else. I'm never late, for anything, and here I've left poor Ambrose waiting for me for over an hour already. That's not fair to him. I will have to find a way to make it up to him.
I quickly wash my hands and clean up my knee and pull on the fresh clothes that Madeline left out for me. I love my cardigan, but the long sleeves get in the way too much when making pizza dough from scratch. No, for this date my favorite jersey knit pants and the ruffled shirt that Madeline chose is much more appropriate. I pull my hair up, refresh my lipstick and rush back out the door.
This time, Ambrose is waiting for me at the counter, ingredients spread out all around him. He smiles at me when I enter the room and I can tell that now that he knows I'm not standing him up, he's more relaxed.
"You look way nicer than me," Ambrose says, looking down at his outfit.
"I don't know what you're talking about," I tell him as I round the counter and stand beside him. "You look very nice."
And he does. He's wearing relaxed trousers and a button up with the sleeves rolled up. What is it about rolled sleeves that make someone more attractive? All together, he looks very handsome indeed.
"Well, thank you," he says and ducks his chin.
I narrow my eyes at him and accuse, "Were you fishing for a compliment?"
"Maybe." Ambrose shrugs but the smile on his face is genuine. "It worked though, didn't it?"
"I suppose it did," I admit and turn to the counter in front of us. "So, have you ever made pizza before?"
"From scratch? No." He shakes his head as he reaches over to grab the recipe card. "No, I usually order out or stick to the frozen stuff. You?"
I blow out a breath and shake my head. "No."
We laugh for a moment and then Ambrose looks at the recipe once more. "Well, it doesn't look too hard," he says as he pulls several jars towards him. He looks at me with a small smile on his face and with a challenging tone asks, "Ready to get started?"
"Let's do this." I nod and snatch the recipe card from him to read for myself. He chuckles but I feel him shift to read over my shoulder. Feeling him at my back I flush. There's something intimate about this. Ambrose shifts once more and I can feel just how close he is. I don't dislike it. I clear my throat. "Okay, so the first step—"
"Why doesn't my crust seem like it's right?" I ask as the flour mess goops between my fingers. I frown down at it and must make a face because Ambrose laughs at me.
"I think you added too much liquid," he says. I look over to his dough and of course it's perfect.
"Yours looks perfect," I complain and he looks up, giving me a grin.
"I was patient, and added a little water at a time. Like the card says," Ambrose says patiently. He is patient, isn't he? He was for me today.
"Showoff," I mumble but I'm smiling. I don't mind not being the best cook.
"You can share my pizza,"Ambrose offers. "We can't have you going hungry."
"What? You don't think this will work?" I ask him as I lift my hand and let my own creation drip down back onto the counter.
He laughs again as he watches and shakes his head. He moves to stand next to me again and scoops some of the mess off of the counter and into his own hands. "This has more of the consistency of a moisturizer than a dough. How did you even accomplish this?"
"I'm very talented," I jokingly tell him.
"Yeah," his voice is low as his eyes catch mine. "You are."
We're silent for a moment and my heart picks up the pace a bit at the look in his eye. He leans towards me, his voice still low, "You know, I think you got a little here."
My skin flushes as he gently touches my jaw. His hands are strong but soft and I can't help but tilt my head towards his touch as his thumb runs along my jaw.
Ambrose gives me a soft smile. His eyes can't seem to focus as they rove over my face. "Is this okay?"
His question is soft and for a moment I can think of a million things he's asking. Ambrose's eyes bore into mine, willing me to answer as somehow he moves ever closer.
Finally I nod and it's like it's a dream. The softest of touches as he leans down and presses his lips to mine.
It's a sweet kiss. Not too demanding and still I want a bit more. He pulls away and this time it's both of our cheeks that are tinted red. We smile at each other, neither of us saying anything to break the moment.
A loud beeping breaks us from our moment. The oven is finally to temperature. We chuckle more to ourselves and Ambrose moves back to his station, dutifully dividing his dough, holding half out for me.
"You know what, no." I shake my head and move to stand beside him this time. "We both know I cannot be trusted with the dough. Why don't you finish it out and we'll just share one larger pizza." Then I realize I should probably actually ask if that's okay. "If— if that's okay, I mean."
"Just promise not to put onions on it, and that sounds perfect," Ambrose smiles and I watch as he shifts, allowing me extra room beside him. A smile spreads across his face, lighting up his features as I patiently wait for him to roll out the dough.
"Perfect," I echo. An agreement and a wish.
February 8th
11:35 am
"I have to say, this is not the date I would have chosen for myself," Rhett admits as he frowns down at his hands. The nail technician barely holds in her grin but I don't even bother.
"Why is it too girly?" I challenge him.
He frowns at me. "I have a sister."
"But did you let her paint your nails?" I ask him, straightening up a bit. I had almost forgotten he had a sister that he had had to take care of. He mumbles something and I have to hold in my grin. "What was that? I didn't quite hear you."
I don't know where this teasing Charlotte came from. Maybe after fourteen dates in less days, I'm finally getting a tad flirty.
"I said, only my toes," Rhett admits and I can see the grin from here.
"Well, I promise I'm not going to ask you to paint your nails anytime soon," I tell him as I chuckle, picturing him with bubble pink toes.
"I mean, I wouldn't say no, if that's what you asked of me," Rhett says and the way he looks at me, it's intense. It's my turn to blush.
"Uh, not today maybe. I think today we should just pamper ourselves," I say, relaxing backwards and letting my eyelids close. Rebecca, my usual facialist, smiles at me as she begins to cover my face in the mixture that keeps my skin from drying out too much.
"So tell me, how often do you have these spa days?" Rhett asks me. I can't see him any longer so I have to guess at his expression.
"Not that often actually, this is quite a treat," I tell him honestly.
"Really? I would have thought as a princess, this would be almost a daily occurrence," Rhett says and I frown at his words.
"There's more to being a princess than looking pretty," I say and I bite my lip at my tone. He doesn't say anything and I sigh. "I'm sorry. It's just— people always assume things about me and yes, I recognize I am incredibly privileged. But I live my entire life in the service of others. Very rarely do I get to make the choice that is just for me. I spend long days and nights doing everything I can to make the best decisions I can. I'm not deluded, I know I have things that others never could. I know that what I do is literally the least I can for all that I have, but I—"
"Charlotte, I wasn't criticizing you," Rhett says softly and I startle as he takes my hand.
"Weren't you though?" I ask him and I'm a bit embarrassed by how weak my voice sounds. I squeeze my eyes, counting to five in my head, willing the emotions back.
"Okay, maybe a bit," Rhett admits. He sighs. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't, but it's hard not to. But I do see you. I see how hard you work and how much you care. It's just hard to reconcile it all sometimes."
"Just," I start and I take a deep breath. "Just don't hold it against me?"
"Never," Rhett says softly. I just wish I could believe him.
February 10th
8:17pm
"I've always liked coming up here alone," I say into the night. James and I are laying side by side and I'm content. It's been a long week. The dates have taken a lot out of me. But I'm excited to be up here. I hope James finds it as peaceful as I do.
"Oh? Why's that?" he asks.
"I don't know," I tilt my head. I smile as I look up into the sky. I may not know my constellations, but I've always found a certain solace in the stars. "I've always been more of a night person. And while there's so many places you can go to see the stars, all over the palace, there's something about being in the one place that was built for it. It's comfortable."
"I don't know that I would call it comfortable," James says and I can feel his shoulder shift against mine.
"Oh, you don't like lying on the hard floor?" I ask, a bit tiredly and look at him smiling softly.
"I've laid in softer places," James says and he looks at me. He grins but there's a nervous edge to him. There has been all night, for most of the week actually. That's why I thought a quiet night up here might do him good. It always helps me to reset.
"Fair enough," I allow and something about this place makes me want to whisper, almost more than when I'm in the library. I feel James shift next to me again and I don't really think anything of it until he's right above me, blocking my view of the night sky. I begin to ask him what he's doing but he cuts me off by dipping down and pressing his lips to mine.
My eyes widen and I gasp, having not expected him to kiss me at all. He apparently takes this as an invitation and deepens the kiss. I place my hands against his shoulders, trying to signal him to stop. James either misunderstands me once more or ignores me altogether because instead of lessening his weight above me, I feel him press down harder against me, trapping me between him and the floor at my back.
This is nothing like the small kiss Ambrose gave me last week. He asked me beforehand. He gave me plenty of chances to pull away, to put a stop to it all.
I cry out as I feel James's hand begin to leave my shoulder and I push at him once more. His hand tangles harshly into my hair and I cry out softly again. James leans further over me, pressing his leg in between mine. That's when the fear overtakes me. I realize suddenly in that moment what kind of position I've placed myself in. Fight or flight, Charlotte. Fight or flight.
I choose fight.
I bite down hard on James' lip, enough to startle him and make him pull away. As soon as he does, I wriggle out from under him and stand, putting as much distance between us.
"What do you think you're doing?!" I all but shout, tears in my eyes. "Wha—why?!"
His eyes widen in surprise, "I—I thought—"
"What? That it was okay to just—just kiss me? Without any way out?" I'm shouting but I don't care. I don't even care when I distantly hear a door open.
"Well, yes," James says and I can see him trying to work out all that has happened. "You brought me up here, alone. Away from everyone else."
"I was trying to help you relax!" I tell him, tears threatening my eyes. "This is my escape!" He doesn't say anything and I shake my head. I can hear footsteps approaching but still, I need to know how far he was going to take it. "And what? You didn't feel me pushing you away?"
"I—I thought," his voice is small as it dawns on him what exactly he did.
"I am not some plaything to be taken advantage of," I tell him, all of the hurt in my voice. It's then that Chatham enters the room, his eyes wide with alarm. He takes in my tears and James' wide eyes.
"Your Highness?" he asks me, looking for direction. He steps towards James, anger and authority lacing every muscle. I sag in relief, grateful that he is here.
"Charlotte," James croaks as he too stands. His eyes are wide in shock and I can tell he wants so badly to defend his actions. I hold my hand up, silencing him.
"I think it's best that you leave," I tell him, forcing the tears to remain at bay.
"Just let me expl—"
"There is nothing you can say that would justify this," I tell him and it takes everything in me not to openly cry. I cross the room, leaving before he can say anything else. At the door, I turn to Chatham, "Please escort Mr. Prentice to the front door. He will never be welcome back here."
—
"Charlotte?" I hear Madeline's voice but I barely hear her words. I feel her cool hands against my face, trying to pull my hands from my face. But the shock is too strong. I just— I wasn't expecting— I wasn't thinking.
I didn't realize Madeline had left. I don't remember any of her words or hearing my door close or even opening again. But all of that must have happened because the next thing I know everyone is in front of me.
"Charlotte? What's wrong?" Henley asks me, her blue eyes wide in concern. She looks confused, all of them and it strikes me how funny it is seeing everyone crouched on the floor in my closet.
"If this is how it's going to go, I think I need a bigger closet," I mumble, trying to make a joke, trying to feel normal again.
No one laughs.
"Char, what happened?" Natalia asks me, her voice worried, quiet.
I force myself to swallow, trying to wrap my head around everything. I find I don't know how to say what happened. I don't have the words to describe it. I glance around us and the walls start to feel suffocating. Suddenly I feel claustrophobic and I need out.
"I need to go," I say suddenly and I jump up, surprising them all.
"Go? Go where? Charlotte?" Wynnie asks, probably the most concerned of them all. She's not used to me being more spontaneous. That's old Charlotte, high school Charlotte. The Charlotte that decided it was a good idea to get drunk and get a tattoo. The Charlotte that decided to sneak out of school and go skinny dipping in the town fountain.
Henley knows that Charlotte and she must recognize that look in my eye. She nods once and pulls a bag from the top shelf. "Pack warm. I know just where we can go."
I smile at my friend, my face wobbling but she just nods at me and begins grabbing sweatpants and sweaters, enough for the both of us. She knows what spontaneous Charlotte means. It means I need a break. Something happened, something broke and I need a refresher. Something, anything to bring me back to myself. Once Audrey, Natalia and Wynnie all leave, heading back to their own rooms to pack their own bags, Henley drops my bag and takes my wrists in her hands, stopping my harried movements.
"Charlotte, what happened?" Her voice is low and full of concern.
I want to tell her to wait. That I'll tell her in the car, to put it off. Maybe if I don't talk about it, it never happened. Maybe I can erase the feeling of his hand in my hair, how it felt to have his weight over me. Maybe I can erase that feeling of vulnerability.
But I know Henley.
"He kissed me," I tell her. I can see her calculating what that might mean. She knows that Ambrose kissed me, they all do. We all talked about it the day after and I haven't heard the end of it since. But this was different and I can tell that based on my reaction, she knows it. She's always been able to read me. I lick my lips. "It— It wasn't like with Ambrose. He— he didn't give me an out. I felt... trapped. And every time I tried to push him away, to ask him to stop, he ignored me and used it as an opportunity to take it further."
"He didn't—"
"No," I cut her off. I shake my head, not wanting to believe that James would have pushed it that far. "No, but to finally get him to listen to me, I had to bite him and then I was able to get up and I just started shouting. Then Chatham was there and—"
She pulls me to her and I can tell how angry she is by how much she's shaking.
"Charlotte, I am so sorry you were in that position, that this happened," she whispers in my ear.
"Hen, I—" The tears start to fall, my emotions finally catching up to my shock. "I just wasn't expecting it. I thought— I thought I could trust the guys left. I thought the worst of them were gone. And I don't think James is a bad guy, but I took him up there. We were so far away from everyone else and alone—"
"Don't you dare do that Charlotte," Henley breaks our hug and now she's mad at me. Her eyes blaze with a cold fire as she scolds me. "Don't you dare blame yourself for the actions that man decided to take. You had every right to trust him. None of us thought he might be capable of such an action. We never would have let you be in that situation if we had thought otherwise. You are the victim here, Charlotte. Do not blame yourself for any of it."
Tears fill my eyes again as I nod, hearing her words. Why are they so hard to believe though?
Henley sighs and pulls me in for a hug once more. We stand there like that until the others return. I see their expressions over Henley's shoulders and I can only assume that Chatham might have told them what he knows. They don't say anything and when Henley finally pulls away, she grabs my bag and links her arm in mine. She smiles fakely at the girls and says loudly, "Come on ladies. We are having a small girl's retreat. Please tell me someone packed wine."
February 12th
11:47pm
I tiredly pull all the clothes from my bag and put them in the hamper. We got back to the palace just ten minutes ago and everyone is exhausted. I am too, but I can't sleep. Not yet.
I am so grateful to Henley, and all of them for getting me away for a little while. I think I needed that. And I needed the reminder that no matter how I might feel for some of the guys, doesn't mean that's how I have to feel about all of them. It's so hard sometimes to separate my feelings for each of them, but I guess that's what my real job is from here on out. Figuring that out.
What a difference 48 hours can make.
The girls were really great. I explained what happened to them, of course. They deserved to know why their lives were being uprooted for a short trip last minute. Once the shock and outrage passed, we got down to business. At Audrey's insistence we made a pro and con list for each of the men as the night continued the lists got more and more ridiculous until we were laughing by the end of the car ride. Once we reached the Fortune cabin, Henley put a ban on man talk for the rest of the stay. From the time we crossed the threshold, we would watch movies, drink, eat and forget all of our worries back at the palace.
It worked until it didn't. Eventually talk came back to the guys but by then the hurt in my heart was a little better.
I knew we couldn't be gone for long. Schedules could only be put off for so long and it really wasn't fair to the other guys to punish them for the actions of one. But I think I'm going to do a few more group dates before considering meeting any of them alone again. The memory of what James did still bothers me.
My stomach rumbles and I roll my eyes, completely unsurprised at my hunger. We packed plenty of wine but our snacks ran out hours ago and I haven't had a real meal in two days.
I make my way to the kitchens, glad for the late hour. Almost no one is out and about. It's like it was before, almost empty, just my home. I pull food from the fridge at random and sigh in relief as I notice there's a slice of chef's nutella cake waiting just for me. I know I've been wanting real food, but I can never pass up chef's nutella cake. I grab a fork and two bottles of water before heading back to my room.
It feels like it's been ages since I've seen anyone, talked to anyone so when I find Levi standing outside my door, I almost don't know what to do with myself.
He hasn't seen me yet, and I watch as he raises his fist, about to knock on my door. At the last second Levi shakes his head and drops his fist. He turns, readying to walk back to his room when he catches sight of me. His eyes widen as a flush colors his cheeks.
"I—" he chokes and clears his throat. "I just wanted to say how sorry I am for what happened to you. You don't deserve to be treated like that at all."
I feel my eyes fill but I can't bring myself to say anything.
Levi looks at me for a moment and his blush deepens. He clears his throat and scratches at the back of his neck. "I just wanted you to know that none of us agree with what he did. And that, well just that we all think you're really brave for getting rid of him so quickly."
Emotion overwhelms me as I realize I had been holding my breath, waiting to hear his words. I hadn't realized how worried I was about his reaction, all of their reaction, until now. Without thinking, I rush forward and wrap my arms around him.
I sniffle, embarrassed that now I am crying on an unsuspecting Levi but I mean it when I whisper, "Thank you, Levi."
It takes him a moment but eventually he returns the hug. His voice is low when he says, "Of course, princess."
We stand there for a few moments until I realize how this must look. I'm a wreck, a complete wreck. I haven't brushed my hair in two days, it's piled atop my head and I'm in my comfiest of sweats, hugging one of the Selected in an empty corridor at midnight. I clear my throat and straighten, breaking the hug. I give Levi a small smile, more grateful than he could ever know for his words and in a small voice bid him goodnight.
When I close the door behind me, he's still there, watching to be sure I got inside okay even though we were only steps away from my bedroom the entire time. Something about that thought pleases me.
"Good night, princess," I hear softly through the door as I listen to his steps fade away. And with those words, something inside me heals a little.
—
Prince Phillip's POV
I stand in front of the room of men and it takes all there is in me not to rage. The thought that someone thought they could come here and pull this kind of stunt. If the media ever caught wind of what happened, Charlotte's reputation would be damaged, and it's already not great.
The men finally all file in and I'm surprised as the last man enters. Luc has pretty much remained hands off so far with his sister's Selection, choosing instead to follow his father around the palace and sit in on every meeting possible. Now he stands at my side as we stare down the men we have invited into our home.
Finally the Selected settle and I only have to wait a few moments until all of their attention is on me. Good, they're finally catching on. At the beginning of the Selection I would have to wait entirely too long for them to finally focus and give me their attention. Gradually, they have become used to sitting and getting right down to the business of the day. Some are better then others of course, but as a whole, there has been improvement.
"Now I am sure that some of you are wondering what is going on. Maybe some of you have heard rumors throughout the palace about what occurred last night. Last night there was an incident... with Princess Charlotte... and her date."
I pause, gauging each man's reaction. Most of them furrow their brows and a couple of them shift in their seats, leaning forward. It's them that I pay more attention to. They're the ones that look the most concerned, like they're readying themselves for trouble.
"During her date last night, Princess Charlotte was put into a position that we would like to never hear of again. During his time with the princess, it seems that James Prentice decided it was on him to advance their relationship, to take certain liberties with Charlotte that he was not entitled to."
Anger flashes as several more men sit up straighter while others look stunned. My eyes catch on Hernandez, his hands in fists on the table in front of him and I can't help but wonder. We all saw how protective he had been of his sister during her stay, is he starting to feel the same to my niece? The thought makes my lip curl. My eyes dart to Ambrose, my brother's favorite and relieved to note that he too seems as upset at this news as the Hernandez boy.
"I would like to make it very clear the appropriate behavior when courting someone like the princess. You are not to take liberties. You are to ask permission before touching her in any sort of intimate way. You are not to take it upon yourselves to advance your relationship without her consent. I hope I am being clear."
When no one responds I raise my voice, "If any of you are too dimwitted to understand what it is that I am saying, speak up now. I will not have a repeat incident on my hands. Am I being clear?"
"Yes, sir," they all respond and I sigh, turning away from them. Luc looks at me questioningly but I don't know what to tell him. I can't stop thinking about last night, what almost happened to Charlotte. I've never been particularly close to my brother's second born. But to have someone try anything with one of the royal family, let alone a young girl... I can't help but think about what I would say if it had been my own daughter instead of Charlotte.
"Gentlemen, just— remember that she is a girl, a woman. She should not be put into jeopardy at your hands. She is alright and thankly things did not go too far before her guard was able to be there. But she is putting her trust in you, she is giving you everything," I fear I said too much but I can tell that finally my words have hit their mark. "This is her life. She is not here for some silly romances to put down in her diary. She is looking for her future and she is trying her best."
Now it's their turn to look ashamed and I leave it there. I turn to leave the room, effectively dismissing them until a voice stops me.
"What about today's dates?" I search the room looking to see who spoke up. Luckily, it's not hard to find him as all eyes are now on him, some looking more frustrated at his question than others.
Nicholas Denly. Of course.
"I regret to inform you that Princess Charlotte has canceled all scheduled dates that have not occurred yet," I tell him simply.
Anger and frustration washes over his face. I turn to leave again but he stands from his seat, "If I could just speak to her—"
"That is not possible," Luc speaks for the first time. Denly looks at him in confusion but Luc only shrugs, "She's left the palace. She needed to get away for a little while. You all will be notified when she returns. Until then, please feel free to use whatever rooms in the palace you'd like."
Luc doesn't wait for any other argument to arise and neither do I as we both take our leave. It's not until we're back in my office that he speaks again, "You're sure she's okay?"
I nod once. "Yes. Wynnie sent me a text saying that it went no further than a kiss. Her trust has just been shaken."
"And it was going so well, too." Luc sighs as he sinks into the armchair.
Yes, yes it really was.