Everything I Need

Part 7

“You’re a dork,” Shela tells her and Charlotte shrugs it off as Shela climbs off the bed to remove her coat. “Is anyone else back yet?”

Charlotte shrugs her shoulders and wonders why Shela's asking her of all people. Shela kicks off her boots and her jeans and finds some pajama pants before collapsing back onto Charlotte’s bed.

“What are we watching?” she asks and then laughs when she sees that Charlotte’s watching kids movies. Shela gives her a look before squeezing her knee and Charlotte finds herself staring, hating the fact that everything seems okay now that Shela’s back. Shela shuffles closer and pulls Charlotte’s legs until they’re in her lap and then reaches over to shove her glasses up her nose like a habit.

Charlotte gulps back all the weird things she feels and tries to concentrate on watching the bright colors of the movie. She tries to ignore the way that Shela’s hand still squeezes her knee intermittently, like she’s trying to reassure her she’s still there. It’s too much and Shela jumps a little when Charlotte gets up and sits around properly beside her.

“I should order some dinner,” she whispers as Shela eyes her in careful disappointment. “What do you want?”

Shela doesn’t answer. Charlotte shuffles through the pile of menus they keep by the window and tries not to let guilt and confusion seep through her body. She reminds herself she can’t do this. She reminds herself that she’ll be okay. She turns to find Shela still reclined on her bed, toying with the blanket that had been thrown over Charlotte’s lap. She watches Charlotte carefully, eyes dark and sad. She looks like she wants to say something. She looks like she wants to ask a million questions. Charlotte holds her breath because she knows that she doesn’t want to answer any of them.

She’s glad when Shela gives her a timid smile and shakes her head. “Whatever you want is fine,” she whispers. “I’m happy with whatever.”

It feels like she means more than just dinner.

They order Thai food and sit in silence as they eat. Charlotte lets Shela put on some gritty, dark, action movie but she’s sure that neither of them watches it. Shela’s eyes are too busy fluttering in exhaustion as her body slumps sideways. There’s a part of Charlotte that wants to say that they should go to bed, that Shela needs to rest, but she’s too busy watching the way that Shela softens slowly into sleep instead. It’s so different from how she usually blacks out when drunk that Charlotte feels like she’s intruding. She closes her eyes and looks away because it doesn’t feel right.

It’s not until Shela’s head suddenly bumps into her shoulder that her eyes reopen and she takes an unsteady breath when Shela just slumps further into her. Blonde hair falls over Charlotte's collarbones and tickles against her chin. She brushes it away out of habit and then chastises herself because Shela isn’t awake and she isn’t drunk, either.

“Shela,” she whispers but Shela doesn’t make a sound, doesn’t move. If anything, she gets heavier against Charlotte’s side and she feels her body shifting sideways under the weight. She lets it happen because she can’t do much else, falling backwards until Shela’s head rests against her stomach and she can pull her feet back onto the bed. Shela sighs in her sleep and Charlotte watches as she moves, curling around Charlotte’s body with a hand gripped in her t-shirt.

She should stop this. She should force Shela awake and send her to her own bed. She should untangle Shela’s fingers from her shirt and not enjoy the way that she feels warm with Shela against her. She should stop this.

But she doesn’t. Instead, she reaches for her pillows and pulls them until they’re comfortably behind her head. She curls onto her side so that Shela has just a little more room. She reaches for the blanket behind Shela and pulls it over their legs and rests her hand against the back of Shela’s head when she whimpers in her sleep.

She carefully sweeps blonde hair from Shela’s face before tracing the shell of her ear. When Shela doesn’t stir but instead buries closer into her, Charlotte tangles her hands in the cotton candy pink ends of it, her fingers wrapping in it until it falls in perfectly soft curls.

Just this once, she tells herself. Just this once, and then I’ll stop.

She falls asleep with her fingertips against Shela’s hairline at the back of her neck.

//

She never thought she could be so f*****g idiotic.

She never knew she had the ability to be so foolish until this morning when she realized the last thing she ever thought she’d have to realize. And, for the most part, she’d gone into denial for fifty percent of the day. She’d attended her classes and seen her friends and somehow managed to act normal enough that they didn’t suspect anything. She’d gone for lunch with Harper and Sana. She’d spoken to her professors about projects and things she needed to do before midterms. She’d acted completely normal until the minute she got back to her empty dorm room and let everything rush over her.

She lets everything rush over her at once and the tears have never come quicker because she’s honestly never felt so alone.

She momentarily debates calling her mom or, dammit, Ren, because there’s no one else she can talk to about this. They’ve probably been expecting something like this for a while now. It’s just what they need when everything seems to be settling down.

There’s no way she can tell Harper, not with their history and the circumstances. She could maybe tell Sana, but she would probably judge her so hard that she’d never let her live it down. Shela doesn’t need that right now.

She needs someone to give her sympathy, to tell her that she’ll be okay, that she’ll figure it out. She needs someone who will understand and she’s crying more for the fact that she doesn’t have anybody to turn to than anything else when the door to her dorm opens unexpectedly.

She expects maybe Harper or Sana more than the person who actually appears around the door, even though she lives here. Charlotte steps into the room with her hood up and her headphones in and Shela buries her face in her hands to hide her tears.

Her eyes are blurry and noise is nothing more than a ringing in her ears. She thinks that she might be having a panic attack and the bottle of rum in her hand suddenly seems like a bad idea now that Charlotte’s here. She’s got to stop putting her in this position. She’s already caused so much trouble for her already. She already makes Charlotte uncomfortable enough as it is.

She never expects Charlotte to wordlessly drop to her knees in front of her and press her hands on her thighs in concern.

“Hey, hey, hey,” she whispers softly, prying the bottle so expertly from Shela’s hands that it just makes Shela feel worse. A hand urges against her shoulder for her to sit up and Charlotte narrows her eyes at her like she’s a riddle. “What’s wrong? Why are you drinking at five in the afternoon?”

Shela shakes her head and lets her tears snivel pathetically from her. When Charlotte strokes her hair from her face and manages to wipe away some of the tears, it reminds Shela of the way she’d woken up pressed against Charlotte’s stomach a week and a half ago. Charlotte’s hand had been tangled in the back of her hair and Shela hadn’t remembered waking up feeling so content in such a long time.

That comfort is what she needs now and she’s so surprised that Charlotte’s so happily giving it to her. Charlotte looks around the room for clues and Shela can’t remember the last time someone cared as much.

“Breathe, Shela,” Charlotte whispers when that just makes everything feel worse. Because how is she supposed to know what to do when no one else cares. “Breathe, okay? You’re okay. You’re safe.”

Shela takes her hands away from her face and lets Charlotte look at her as she buries her hands into the fabric of her jeans. For all the embarrassment she feels at letting Charlotte see her like this, it all disappears when Charlotte’s eyes soften and her fingertips wipe away the rest of the tears. Shela smiles despondently and shrugs her shoulders because she’s never seen someone so impatiently patient as the girl in front of her.

She smiles as she tries to explain.

“I’m late,” she whispers as the smile falls quickly. She waits for the judgment to cover Charlotte’s expression, for her to get up and roll her eyes, shout and scream and make everything worse, but Charlotte just keeps looking at her and wiping away her tears. Shela’s chin trembles and she thinks maybe Charlotte didn’t hear. “Charlotte, I’m f*****g late. I’m late.”

Charlotte nods and calms her with gentle noises. “I heard you,” she whispers. “It’s okay. We’ll figure that out in a second. You need to calm down first.”

“But Charlotte—”

Charlotte hushes her softly and shakes her head. “You’re okay,” she says and she keeps saying it until Shela’s tears slowly stop, until her breathing evens out. She keeps saying it until Shela’s sure that her knees are probably numb and she’s desperate to leave, but instead she nods and gets up to disappear into the bathroom. She comes back with a washcloth and cleans Shela’s face until Shela can do little more than admire the sudden softness of her roommate. “There,” Charlotte says and her mouth quirks up into a half-smile. “That’s better.”

Shela smiles and takes the tissue Charlotte offers her. “Sorry,” she says uncontrollably. “Sorry for piling all this on you. Sorry for being such an i***t… Sorry for crying. Sorry for—”

“It’s fine,” Charlotte whispers. “Although you did look like a drunk raccoon for a second there. All your eyeliners run.”

Shela laughs and takes the washcloth, standing to move over to the mirror on the wall. She blows her nose, wipes the rest of her face, and feels safe with Charlotte standing behind her watching her.

“What’s the plan?” Charlotte asks and Shela turns around to her in confusion until she realizes what she’s asking. Charlotte doesn’t look reluctant or annoyed. In fact, she looks kind of ride or die ready in a way that shocks Shela more than anything else. “We can go to the pharmacy in town but—”

Shela shakes her head and reaches for the bottle of rum. She takes a long gulp from the bottle until Charlotte almost looks impressed.

“Probably not the best idea,” she mutters.

Shela gives her a glare. “Alcohol is how I got into this mess and it’s how I’m going to hopefully get out of it. I don’t want to be sober for this and until something tells me otherwise I’m going to drink as much as I f*****g want.”

Charlotte snorts. “Fair enough. Gimme your car keys.”

“Can you drive?”

Charlotte rolls her eyes. “I’m the most sensible human on the planet. Would I ask otherwise?”

“Good point,” Shela nods. “Lemme get my stuff.”

Charlotte is an incredibly sensible driver and at first they just drive around while Shela drinks from her bottle of rum. It’s like Charlotte knows she isn’t ready yet. She drives them around for hours until it’s late and they’re both ridiculously hungry. They’re probably about two hours away from where they should be when Charlotte finally pulls into the parking lot of a Walgreens. She doesn’t say anything but she shuts off the engine and turns to Shela.