More Than Friends

Chapter 4: Charlotte

Charlotte decided to spend this Sunday the way she spent most of her Sundays: sleeping in, going for a run, and cleaning her apartment. When she woke up at 10:30, she knew that Brady would be long gone. She wandered out to the living room to turn on her coffee maker and noticed the blankets folded in a neat pile on the couch, the pillow stacked on top. She smiled at his kindness, he was such a nice guy, and she knew how lucky she was to have a best friend like him.

On mornings like this, after they’d spent the night drinking and hanging out, she always felt a pang of guilt—or was it regret? She was never quite sure. It was a nagging feeling that she could never quite put her finger on. It’s like she wanted to love Brady the way he loved her, to desire him. Sometimes she just wanted to jump his bones and screw his brains out, just to see what it would be like. What if she was wrong and it was hotter than she had assumed it would be all these years? What if he was this wild, sexy guy trapped in this good guy with dimples?

She’d never been close enough to any of his girlfriends to find out, not that he’d had that many girlfriends since she’d known him. And not that she'd relished the idea of talking to Brady's girlfriends about how he was in bed, that just seemed too weird. Of course she had thought about dating Brady herself, but she cared about their friendship too much and he was too important to her to risk it. Her mom had always told Charlotte and her sister, Lindsey, how important a s*x life, attraction, and passion was to a marriage. Not in a weird way, but in a realistic way that Charlotte never questioned, especially since her parents had gotten divorced when she was in high school, which just seemed to drive home the point. It was too big of a risk and she had long ago let go of any possibility between her and Brady.

She thought about the day in front of her and, looking outside, was happy to see a beautiful blue sky. She drank her coffee quickly and changed into running clothes. She took the longer, five-mile route this morning, looping through the park in a wide circle that would bring her down the street from her apartment near Cool Beans. She loved the small town in which they lived, where the town square was walkable and the buildings were all so charming.

As she finished her run, she decided to swing by Cool Beans. They sold a green juice that actually tasted amazing, and she decided that was the perfect post-run treat that she wouldn’t feel guilty about. She slowed to a walk a few blocks away and shoved her AirPods in her pocket. She wiped sweat from her forehead with her tank top; she loved the feeling of sweat dripping down her body, proof that she had worked hard and pushed herself.

As the yellow umbrellas came into view, she could almost taste the sweet, sharp tang of the drink she was going to order. She started mentally ticking off the things that she would do when she got back to her apartment: laundry, vacuuming, grocery shopping for the week—when she saw something that interrupted her thoughts and made her stop short: Brady. But not just Brady.

Brady was sitting outside of the coffee shop. She wasn’t sure why she was so surprised, he lived just a few blocks down, the opposite direction from her apartment—but she hadn’t expected to see him again today. He was leaning back comfortably in one of the chairs, his long legs splayed in front of him, laughing at something. No, laughing with someone. The someone was striking, with long dark hair, olive skin, and the kind of full lips that most people pay for. She stood for a minute, stunned and silent, a jolt rippled through her body.

She immediately turned around, walking all the way around the block, and back to her apartment so that he wouldn’t see her. So they wouldn't see her. She couldn't say why she didn't stop and chat, why the thought of talking to Brady (her best friend Brady who had just spent the night at her house) made her so uncomfortable. She just turned and fled. She tried not to think too hard about her erratic decision, because if she considered it too deeply, she might admit that it was because he was talking with another woman. And it would be ridiculous for her to be upset or, for goodness sake, in any way jealous. She spent the rest of the day distracting herself and ticking things off her to-do list, trying not to think about Brady’s laugh or the way that girl had been looking at him.

The next day at the office, she tried to put the whole weekend out of her mind and focus on the week ahead. She went straight to the kitchen to stuff her lunch in the fridge, and she ran into Madison, who was talking with Brady.

“I can’t believe you ran into Gigi yesterday!” Madison was saying to Brady as Charlotte walked in.

So, that’s who it was, Madison’s friend, Gigi. Charlotte thought she looked familiar, but she couldn’t quite place her in the moment.

“Oooh… who’s Gigi?” Charlotte asked, trying to sound both excited and surprised.

“Hey Char!” said Madison, giving Charlotte a side hug. “Brady here ran into my friend Gigi—do you remember her from my Christmas party? Well… I was just telling him that it’s so crazy because she asked me about him that night at the party and then again just last week.”

“And why didn’t you tell me?” Brady asked, raising an eyebrow in mock sternness.

“I did tell you!” Madison protested. “I told you at the Christmas party—remember?”

Brady shook his head and looked honestly puzzled, “Truly, I don’t. And I think I’d remember—she’s freaking hot! Plus, you should probably tell me those things when I’m sober.”

Charlotte’s stomach twisted uncomfortably as she turned around to pour a cup of coffee from the half full carafe.

“Well, I did,” Madison said, looking at him with a pointed look. “And maybe you were drunk. And maybe you were just too preoccupied.”

Charlotte shot a look at the back of Madison’s head, heat crawling up her neck. She knew exactly what Madison was insinuating. She had been telling Brady to get over his feelings for Charlotte for almost two years, telling him that it was unhealthy to keep “pining” for someone who would never love him the way he loved her. She had never come right out and said anything to Charlotte, but she didn’t have to. Not only did Madison make her feelings very clear (Madison made all of her feelings very clear), but Brady had also said something to Charlotte once when he was really drunk. Something about how Madison is always trying to set him up so that “I’ll stop hoping you’ll love me back.” She was pretty sure those were his exact words. They had pierced her heart at the time, but the next day came and he had no recollection, so she had dropped it.

Madison didn’t understand the depth of her friendship with Brady and what they meant to each other. They had already been friends for four years before they even met Madison, so she just didn't get it. Just because they weren’t more than friends didn’t mean they had to leave each other’s lives. So, Charlotte just tiptoed around the situation and tried not to provoke her, she didn’t want a confrontation about this, nor did she feel as though she needed to defend her friendship with Brady.

There was an awkward silence that descended upon the tiny kitchen and Charlotte could feel the heat continue to prickle its way up her neck. She usually liked Madison and they had become fast friends when she started at Hughes, but this was starting to become a wedge between them and Charlotte was growing tired of it.

“Gotta run—lots to do today,” Charlotte said, trying to sound cheerful and oblivious as she walked to their cubicle.

She sat down at her desk, turned on her computer, and set her coffee down. Charlotte shared a cubicle with the three other assistant editors, each of their desks wedged up against a half wall that came together in a little square of shared space. In addition to Brady and Madison, Steph rounded out their foursome. They had all become such good friends in the almost three years that they worked together and the cozy work environment had only added to their closeness. Lately, however, Charlotte was starting to grow tired of the arrangement; she wanted something more.

She heard the elevator bell ding and glanced up as the editor-in-chief, Max Blackwell stepped out and walked toward his office. Her stomach squeezed nervously like it always did when she saw her boss. Technically, he was the boss of her boss since the editors were a level between the assistants and Max, himself. But they all reported directly to Max.

He walked down the hall and had to pass their cubicle to get to his office. Charlotte’s desk was closest, so she felt rude sitting down before he passed, but awkward just standing there. She often felt awkward in front of Max. He was, quite literally, the most attractive man she'd ever seen. He wore his black hair slicked back, had broad, chiseled features, and his eyes were icy blue with dark eyebrows and lashes that gave him a steely, sexy look that always left Charlotte a little breathless.

As he walked past her desk and smiled at her, his face transformed at once from hard and arresting to warm and handsome, almost friendly. “Good morning, Charlotte,” he said. “Did you have a good weekend?”

“Yeah, it was great,” she said, she could feel her n*****s hardening in response to him just being close to her, a tingling surging through her body. She prayed he didn’t notice. There was an awkward silence.

“Mine was good too,” he laughed.

“Oh—right… sorry!” she laughed, smacking her head in a “what was I thinking” gesture. “How was your weekend?” Charlotte asked. But then quickly realized that he had already said it was good. “It sounds like it was good… since you just said it was good,” she said, trying to cover her discomfort with an awkward laugh.

Pull yourself together, Charlotte! she chastised herself internally.

“Right—so I’m sending you a book I’d like to you proof,” he said, all business again. “It's a new author that we're vetting and I’d really like to know what you think.” As he said this last part, he gave her a pointed look that made her insides go liquid.

He wanted to know what she thought about a book by a new author? She was erupting inside but tried to stay calm. This was unprecedented in her life as an assistant editor.

“Yeah, sure… okay,” she said, feeling the thrill of his gaze and attention. “I’ll get right on that.”

“It’ll be in your inbox in two minutes,” he said with a wink.

She waited until he was in his office with the door closed before spinning her chair around, pumping her arms and kicking her legs in silent celebration.

Just then, Steph walked in, “What has you so excited?”

Charlotte immediately straightened up and said, trying to calm herself down, not ready to share this tremendous news with her colleagues. So she said, “Max just walked through—GOD he is so hot!” She fanned herself to fully sell the bit. She wasn't sure how they would react to this huge opportunity she'd just gotten and needed time to digest it before she talked to them about it.

“Oh, I know!” Steph said. “How is he so hot and also human?”

“I’m not human, I’m actually part God,” Brady said, walking into their cubicle with Madison.

“Not you,” Steph said, laughing and swatting at him with her hand. “Although you are impossibly adorable!”

Charlotte tried not to roll her eyes. Steph’s overly sweet personality could get a little syrupy.

“Then who could you possibly be talking about?” Brady asked, feigning curiosity.

All three of the women who shared the cubicle with Brady laughed, since it was a well-known fact that basically everyone at Hughes Publishing Company thought Max was just about the hottest person they’d ever known in real life. Charlotte sat in front of her computer, her entire body humming with electric possiblity as she waited for the email to come in.