“Rachel, I suppose, I should introduce you,” Charlotte said suddenly.
Rachel’s eyes swept from Quentin back to her friend, looking quizzical. “You know each other?”
“Well, only sort of. We met today,” Quentin said. He swept his hand forward, taking control. “I’m Quentin McDonnell. Editor-in-Chief at MMM. Where Charlotte’s interning right now. Isn’t that right, Charlotte?”
“Had my first day today,” Charlotte breathed, her eyes turning down to the floor.
If Quentin didn’t know any better, he’d say that he could literally feel Charlotte’s heart jolting in her chest. She was like a rabbit, with a buzzing little heart—buzzing so hard it could go out at any moment, like a light bulb.
“Wow. And you were in that band,” Rachel said, pointing her finger rudely. “Orpheus Arise.”
“Yes,” Quentin said.
“Dad. I don’t want to talk about your band again,” Morgan whined from below, yanking at his hand. “And I’m starving.”
Quentin sniffed, turning his head toward his daughter. “Didn’t you just eat ice cream?”
“That’s not food, Dad,” Morgan said, her voice saucy. God, she was like her mother—a know-it-all, dressed up in a gorgeous little girl’s body. “Mom says I can’t eat sweets for dinner.”
“Does she, eh?” Quentin said, sensing Charlotte draw away from him. She turned back down the hall, toward her aunt’s apartment. She lifted the keys from her pocket, ready to scamper away. “All right, then. I suppose it’s time to say goodbye,” he said, bowing his head to both Rachel and Charlotte. “Say bye, Morgan.”
“Bye!” Morgan cried, before rushing the opposite direction down the hallway, toward their door. Quentin allowed his eyes to linger on Charlotte’s thin, taut body, on her breasts, and on that angelic, nervous face for a single moment more before turning, allowing the tension to release. He bounded down the hall, sensing the girls watching him from behind. He lifted his own keys from his pocket with a flourish, lifting his chin high and allowing a casual whistle to escape from between his lips.
He hadn’t felt this light, this young, in years. In his imagination, he spun back down the hallway and pressed Charlotte against the wall, pressing his mouth into her neck and inhaling the scent of her. He’d bang her throughout the night, until she cried out with a mix of pleasure and pain. He’d have no responsibility; he wouldn’t be forced to remember her name. He’d be gone from her life for good, after that, leaving only bruises. Leaving only scars in her heart.
But he wasn’t that man anymore. He couldn’t be.
6
Charlotte’s anxious, shivering fingers slid the key into the door of her aunt’s apartment. Her ears rang with panic. When she opened the door, the scent of cats blasted over them, making Rachel cough. “Jesus. That kid wasn’t lying.”
“Ha.” Charlotte bounded into the apartment, trying to ignite her energy. She collapsed roughly on a cozy, flowered chair in the corner, blinking heavily around her as Rachel snipped the door closed. “Wow. That was fucking weird.”
“You’re shaken up, aren’t you?” Rachel asked, laughing. She walked toward the balcony, opening the door wide to rid the apartment of the stench. Leafing a lighter from her inner pocket, she lit a candle on the center table, fueling apple crisp flavor into the air. “You were just spewing all about how hot he was. How weird. It’s like you summoned him here.”
Charlotte’s heart continued to flutter. “I need a drink,” she whispered, boosting herself from the chair and marching to the liquor cabinet, which her aunt kept well-stocked. She leafed through the spirits, hunting through the gleaming glass bottles, before settling on a French red wine. The kitchen, tiny compared to the rest of the apartment, featured a large, antique cabinet, with a wine bottle opener situated on a rack at the top. She snuck it from its position, cranking the metal into the cork and popping it into the air.
“That’s a sound I like to hear!” Rachel cried from the far room before marching in, joining her. She slipped off her heels, revealing blistered feet beneath.
“Jesus, Rachel,” Charlotte said, pointing. “Your feet. They didn’t look like that in college.”
“I know,” Rachel said sadly, reaching over Charlotte and pouring herself a glass of wine. “It’s all the walking in this city. Sometimes I really miss my little red van. Remember all the good times we had in that thing?”
“You mean, when we were literally living in the middle of nowhere, Ohio?” Charlotte joked, joining Rachel in taking off her shoes. Her forehead relaxed; her shoulders slumped. “Boy. I’m going to have feet to match yours, soon.”
“Welcome to the club,” Rachel said, filling a second glass. The girls lifted their reds and clinked them, sipping languidly, their eyes closing. “Seriously,” Rachel continued, swiping the back of her hand across her lips. “I know I talk a lot of shit. I know I act all arrogant about New York. But really, my life is going to get one hundred percent better with you here.” She grabbed Charlotte’s slim hand with her free one. “And it will get two hundred percent better for you if you just have the balls to sleep with your boss.”