Without Scars (24 page)

“Whatcha doing?” I asked, going in farther.

“Looking over some questions for a YouTube Q&A,” he said without turning around.

Charlie didn’t notice that I was all skin until I leaned over him. “Which question are you looking forward to answering the most?”

His eyes widened, pulsing with waves of lust and anticipation. “Wow,” he said, his hand sliding down my back, “why aren’t you riding my face?”

“That’s weird. Who asked that?” I pushed his laptop aside and sat on the desk, letting my legs dangle on either side of the chair. “Filming for work all the time, and never for play. It must get so boring.”

“It does…” he said calmly. His fingers moved delicately over my nipple. Charlie could maintain composure like the best of them, but I knew the wolf beneath. I loved the wolf. I yearned for it. He ran his hands up my thighs then cupped my ass. “God, it does. It really fucking does.”

“If someone gave you the opportunity to film for, say, fun…would you feel inspired?”

“Very. Very fucking inspired.”

“Good.” I hopped down and strode across the room to my bed, sensing him right behind me. I’d picked up a camcorder from Best Buy today. We were going to fuck the shit out of each other in HD.

“Jesus. This is happening…” he mumbled. His clothes were off by the time I turned around. Apparently the only thing faster than a guy getting naked, whose girlfriend just told him he could fuck her on camera, was the speed of light.

I tried to maintain my sexy demeanor and not laugh. “Well…where do you want me?” I handed the camera to him. The wolf.

“Get on the bed and spread your legs.” Charlie flipped the viewing door open, handed it back to me, and smiled. “Film me eating your pussy.”

We ended up in a heap by the closet eventually. Both having been consumed and also sated. After a glance at the clock, he hauled me to the kitchen (“I’m cooking”). So at one A.M., he was making cheesy eggs, bacon, and pancakes. Oy. I was sitting on the linoleum with my back against the cupboards, across from the stove, and watching him cook in sweatpants. My boyfriend had a nice ass, in and out of clothes.

“…And then Ahsha and Pree’s birth mom died, too, right before my parents left India. My mom apparently cried on the plane the entire trip back,” Charlie explained. “She thought they would end up in an orphanage, or worse, so Dad started the adoption process right away. The girls were just under three years old when they brought them to the States. I was waiting with a sign that said, ‘Welcome home, Optimus Prime and Tigger.’” I spat out my water. “What? I thought they were great names! We actually still call Ahsha Tig. Don’t tell her I told you that. She’d kill me.”

“Have they been back to India since?”

“Yeah…the whole family went after I graduated from college. Pree is looking at study abroad programs there already. She just has to get Ahsha on board.”

“I love your family so much.” I sighed. “You’re lucky…I miss that closeness with mine.”

“You don’t think you’ll get that back?”

“Nope.” My throat quivered but my voice held. “And I’m coming around to accepting it. I really should stop letting hope hold me hostage.” It was an overrated feeling; if we were being honest here, yeah, maybe it gave you a reason to get out of bed in the morning, but it spent the rest of the day mounted on your back strangling you.

“Babe…” Charlie’s voice was pained. “But what if your parents never said those things? He can’t speak for them.”

“What if. What if. What if.” That was what always kept you stuck. “I just want to know how to move forward.”

“You could probably start by forgiving yourself, Nik.” Something flared inside me. I wanted to argue or get defensive but he was right. Guilt was some sort of security blanket for me. “Are you going to talk to them?”

“Yeah…when it stops hurting.”

He pivoted and aimed a grim expression at me. “What if it won’t until you talk to them?” I had no answer because he was probably right again. I just needed a few more days or millennia to process.

“I’ll figure something out.”

Charlie looked skeptical, but he nodded as he sat next to me on the floor with a plate in hand. It smelled amazing. “What the hell is that?” He gestured at his iPad on my lap.

“Six Flags New Orleans. It’s been abandoned since Hurricane Katrina. Not Chernobyl but still pretty creepy for something like that to be sitting in a major American city untouched.”

“The abandoned Disney one was weird as fuck, too,” he said. He kissed my cheek. Then he passed me the plate, and I choked on my heart. I snorted. I almost cried. The first pancake on the stack had a face. An asymmetrical, very poorly put together face. Chocolate chips for eyes and strawberry pieces for a mouth. The edge of
his
mouth went up just slightly, and Charlie tucked my hair behind my ear. “You don’t always have to be happy around me, but that doesn’t mean I’m not going to
try
.”

You want to know what I thought about right then? The entire planet. A place where with even the longest of lifetimes, no person could visit all its corners or know all there was to know about it. It was vast and strange and beautiful. And we were just in my apartment, my shitty apartment in a shitty neighborhood, just a speck on the Earth’s surface. Yet, what was outside these four walls—the vast and strange and beautiful—dulled next to Charlie Dara. This one man was greater than all of it.

He had made me breakfast, we’d looked up strange things on the internet, we’d watched (and promptly deleted) our amateur porn, I was wearing one of his shirts, and we were sitting on the kitchen floor and probably about to talk some more like it wasn’t Monday already.

I dropped my head on his shoulder. This was all I needed.

He was all I needed.

Chapter Twelve

Charlie

It was three o’clock in the morning, and Jessica and Daniel were nailing their scenes for the third episode of
Confessions.
The dialogue wasn’t mine and I wasn’t stressed out, but I wasn’t as content as I thought I’d be, either. I’d worked with the other writers from Hillington over email and Gchat, and it wasn’t that my vision was wholly missing; Tara as a character was just falling flat for me.

“Samira…” I whispered. She dodged me with a quick turn and a foot shuffle that would’ve made most NFL teams take notice. She walked out of the high school we were filming at tonight. She’d been doing this shit for a while now—no responses to my non-work related emails or texts or phone calls—but being avoided in person hurt like hell.

I followed her outside, and she stopped at the edge of the parking lot. “Tara was better with the dubious morality and dark humor,” she mumbled, a mug pressed against her lips. “Now all she does is blush and have a conscience every five fucking seconds. Bitch is so lame. They cut the whole entire fucking scene with my favorite voiceover, when the guy confronts her at the car!”

So, are you talking to me now?” I asked. Samira tilted her head and squinted like she didn’t recognize me. Melodramatic as fuck. “Are you?”

“Are you writing the script now?” she asked. “Whatever your answer is, it’s literally the same as mine.”

“I’m still writing on
How to Fuck up a Friendship,
aren’t I? That’s our baby. We’re gonna watch it grow up.” When I tried to pull her in for a hug, she stepped just out of reach. “Okay. Fuck this.”

“So, our baby grows up and then what? We don’t have any more? We get divorced?” she asked. I kept my eyes straight ahead. I didn’t need to confirm her disappointment in me.

“I don’t know.” I shrugged and fished my cellphone out of my pocket. Nikki was texting to say she was home after SoBe rehearsal. I insisted she do it every night I wasn’t in the apartment waiting for her. She thought I was being an overbearing, overprotective boyfriend.

Nik: How much longer?

Me: 5 or 6 am

“Why don’t you know?” Samira asked impatiently.

“I just don’t.”

Nik: Darn. All the more fun with the retractable showerhead for me.

Nik: Muhaha!

Me: Hope it’s freezing and never gets warm. Love you.

Nik: LOL <3 Love you too.

“Have you been drinking a lot of coffee lately?” Samira’s tone was suddenly kind, but my gaze met shrewd eyes.

“Why?”

“Because I get the caffeine shakes, too.” She gestured at my hands. Shit. I hadn’t realized how noticeable these were getting. This was the side effect I hated more than anything else. I was glad she couldn’t hear my heartbeat. It sounded like I’d just run a mile uphill. “I’m sticking with hot chocolate. Coffee can’t ward off boredom, which is really what’s causing me to fall asleep,” she continued as she aimed a vicious snarl-squint at me. “Oh, by the way, I don’t want producer credit on this series.”

I groaned. “Seriously, Mira?”

“You’re making plans and changes without talking to me first. At least I warned you.” She walked backward to the building, shrugging the entire way.

“Are you and I okay? Are we going to be?”

“I want to produce
your
work, Charles Madden Dara.
Yours
.”

“Full name? You’re such a mom. Anyway, you’re sticking with the acting part, though, right?” She was playing the school counselor who Tara is required to start seeing after a hallway brawl, and is also helping the principal figure out who the school drug dealer is.

The double doors opened and shut without me getting a response. After Nikki sent me a dirty picture fresh out of the shower and we texted back and forth until she fell asleep, I went inside. Samira had passed out on a couch that was part of the student lounge set we’d used earlier. She was curled up next to where I’d been writing. I wanted to tackle another
How to Fuck up a Friendship
script before we wrapped tonight.

I threw a blanket over Samira. She’d never say it, but she didn’t want to hold a grudge. I hated this distance between us, but I really just wanted her to accept my decision. Only selling show concepts to Hillington for other people to write and sticking with producing offered much more stability for us. For her and Patrick. For Lux. She entrusted me with her daughter’s future in a worst-case scenario, and taking on that responsibility meant not having my shitty scripts standing in the way. There were so many up-and-comers with web series we could lend our names to as well.

When I sat on the cushion by her head, Samira stirred then opened her eyes. Her confusion melted into a stubborn refusal to smile at me, but then she scooted closer and dropped her head on my thigh.

****

When I woke up, my heart felt like jackrabbits were fucking inside my chest. My eyes slowly adjusted to the darkness and I glanced at the clock. Damn, it was almost ten.
P.M.
I’d lost the entire rest of the day after filming. Shit. The door to Nikki’s bedroom opened and she tiptoed across the carpet. “Hey, baby…” I croaked and switched on the table lamp.

“Hi,” she whispered and crawled across the bed to lie next to me. “You’re finally awake.”

“Sort of. How are you?”

“Awesome! Darla’s in the living room. We’ve been chatting since we got back from dinner about an hour and a half ago. I apologized for being awful. She’s going to be in Fort Lauderdale during the summer working, so we’ll see a lot more of each other.” She was beaming. “You were right. She doesn’t hate me!” Placing her head on my chest, she hugged my torso. Fear blasted through me when her head popped up, and I wondered if she felt how much I was shaking or the irregular way my heart was beating. But she only wanted to kiss me.

After a peck on my forehead, she bounced across the floor to her closet. I loved seeing Nikki like this. My worry, though, was whether she would try to work things out with her family. It wasn’t my place, so I didn’t push it, but I suspected she was only playing tough girl right now, and burying her hurt deep enough for it to not affect her.

“I’m taking her to The Fat Pony. Wanna come?” Nikki was piling clothes on the bed, kicking off her shoes, tearing her hair out of a bun, and stripping all at once.

“Nope. Go have fun with your old friend.” She lifted two dresses, one blue, and one black. “Wear the other one,” I said when she put the black one against her body and pivoted toward me with a questioning stare.

Her eyebrows shot up. “The
shorter
one? Really? To one of the most popular nightclubs in Miami?” She dropped a hand on her hip.

“Yeah. You could’ve had anyone in the world, Nik.
Anyone.
You chose me. You keep choosing me. What the hell do I have to be jealous about? Go wherever.” I shrugged. “You’re still coming home to me, right? That’s what matters. I’m gonna go meet Darla.”

She pursed her lips, disapproving eyes climbing my body when I stood up. “Put on clothes first.
I
happen to be the jealous type,” she said. I stumbled, and Nikki braced her hand against my stomach. “Whoa. You must be really exhausted.”

“Yeah…” The room tilted but readjusted itself after a few blinks. Shit. I couldn’t wait for this feeling to go away. I jumped into a pair of jeans and put on a shirt. Nikki wriggled into the blue dress, and I laughed as her arms flailed overhead. I had to yank it down. It was snug but I loved how it showed off her shape.

“Braless?” I asked.

She grinned. “Would you rather I lose my panties?”

“Yeah. Toss ‘em on the bed. So I can smell them when I rub one out later.” I smacked her ass.

“Charlie!”

“Okay. You’re right. I jerk off to you enough. Jerk off on you, too—”

“Oh my God. Go meet her already. Tell her I’ll be out in a sec. I just need to put on shoes!” she called after me as I left the room.

Darla Lyons was exactly as I pictured: hair in a bun so tight it was giving her a facelift, incredibly skinny, and kind of prissy-looking. She was definitely not dressed for a Miami nightclub, but she wouldn’t have a problem getting in; she was pretty. After some small talk that dragged on for ten minutes, I went to find out what was keeping Nikki. When I opened the bedroom door, she was leaning against her desk chair with her arms across her chest, a hint of controlled anger in her eyes.  Alarm bells were clanging one after the other in my head, and a chill hit my spine.

“What? What happened?”

“Fallon. She texted you.” Her acidic tone made me grimace. “Said she got your message and had someone who was willing to sell you more, and I quote ‘
at the same price she promised comma so don’t worry
if Elliott can’t right now
.’”

“You went through my phone?” I asked defensively; it was all I had. My cellphone hit the space between my ribs a second later when she threw it.

“Are you fucking kidding me? You’re going to pull the ‘your invasion of privacy is worse than catching me in a lie’ strategy? It fell out of your goddamn pocket when I picked your jeans up from the floor. Your shit
is
everywhere, Charlie! The text kept pinging and I fucking looked at what flashed on the
locked screen
. Big fucking deal. We’ve answered each other’s phones a million times.” She sighed. “You’ve tricked me into changing the subject, so we can’t talk about the fact that you’re still taking those pills. I used to do stuff like this to other people, you know. So, you aren’t taking what happened to me seriously. Let me guess: you’re not me? You’re stronger?”

“They help me write. And does any of this look out of control to you?”

“Ah, okay. Because
I
was out of control. You
do
think you’re stronger.”

I walked in a little farther and sat on the bed. I just let gravity take over. “Can we talk?” Stupid thing to say. So fucking stupid.

“What the hell can you say?” The look on her face shattered me. It was cold, merciless.
I’m losing her. I’m fucking losing her.

“I can say that I love you. Because I love you so much, Nicole.”

“I didn’t believe you for a while, you know, when you said you were done. And I felt horrible because I thought that made me an asshole.” She was putting on her shoes.

I managed to stand again and walked straight up to her. “Please.
Please,
don’t leave mad. Or. Or…or…maybe just stay… Tell her I don’t want you to go out anymore. Pull some kind of jealous boyfriend card. Please. Stay.”

“Darla,” Nikki shouted, an empty stare focused on me, “sorry, I can’t find the pair I want to wear. Give me a few more minutes.”

Fuck. She was going to leave. She was going to leave me. “Please stop looking at me that way.” I cupped her face. “I shouldn’t have…it was stupid to not tell you I was still using them. I’m sorry.” From the corner of my eye I saw my forearms shaking. My chest folded internally and it hurt to breathe.

Her determination cracked just a fragment, for just a second. “You think that’s the worst part? That’s the worst part to you?” She groaned and shook her head. “I want to go out with my friend now, Charlie. I’ll see you later.”

“Okay. Okay, if you’re gonna go, kiss me before you leave. Please.”

Her eyes narrowed. “Get. Off. Me.” She yanked my hands away, and I just let them fall to my sides. Without looking back, she grabbed her wallet and my keys from her desk and walked out of the room.

****

It was after four A.M. when Nikki and I entered her apartment, and both of us were wide-awake. I peeled my shirt off right away. I’d finally gotten a chance to smell how much we reeked from the nightclub; my jeans were covered in beer, too. I hadn’t wanted to go out, but I couldn’t risk all these hours going by, and Nikki’s anger having time to build some more while we were apart. So I ambushed her in the living room by asking Darla if they’d wait a few minutes for me. Darla happily agreed. Nikki was seething. I didn’t give a
fuck
because it was pure sabotage to save my relationship. She needed to see that I was willing to fight for us. We were civil at the club and kept our tension to a minimum, but probably because she wanted Darla to have a good time.

“You looked really pretty tonight, baby girl,” I said.

“Thanks…” Nikki ambled around the living room, rearranging things. She would have to come to bed eventually, so I ignored the urge to say anything more right then. Plus, I needed this night off me immediately. I hopped in the shower, and I plotted what to say—how to fix it—before I crawled into bed.

What was there
to
say, anyway? I couldn’t write without them now? I didn’t believe in my work unless I was on that shit?

Five. Ten. Fifteen agonizing minutes went by. She was still in the living room. Finally I got up and found her lying on the couch, eyes trained on the ceiling. She didn’t even look at me when I stood over her. My heart had been hammering all night—hummingbird fast—and my brain finally caught up to it. I was fucking terrified. But we were going to get through this. We waited too long to get here, together, as a couple. We had gained so much. If I lost this…if I lost her…