It had felt like a betrayal to RC as I spent the day getting to know Charlie. I had shared that story about my mother. Where had that even come from? But he was so easy to talk to. And Charlie had shared back. RC rarely entrusted me with stories from his own life. Or if he did, the stories were vague and laughed off. It shouldn’t be so easy to spend time with Charlie already. But it was. A little voice in my brain continued to ask: Was that because I already knew him?
I drank some water and took the medicine. I needed to think. And that required a clear head.
“Oh god,” I groaned, gripping my stomach.
My stories. All the stories I’d written. If this wasn’t an elaborate fantasy, then Charlie had read all the fic I wrote about him. But … RC reached out to me. He told me he loved them. The room spun.
Whispered voices drifted down the hall, and I stilled. I ran back to the bed and dove under the covers. There was a soft knock on the door.
“Kate?” Charlie called gently.
I stared straight ahead. How was I supposed to look at him? How could I even talk to him? I needed time to process.
If RC had been Charlie this whole time, I couldn’t even contemplate the implications. It couldn’t be true. Was this a joke? Had he been playing some sort of long con? But to what end?
No. Chances were he didn’t want me to know who he really was. The drama from yesterday alone, after a few pictures, threw him into a state. He hated being in Hollywood. He didn’t want to be back in this world. He didn’t want the attention. I had to respect that.
I wouldn’t freak out. If this wasn’t some fantasy, there had to be a reason he waited to tell me. I would give him time to tell me on his own terms.
The knock came louder.
“Y-yes?” I said shakily, hopefully sounding sleep-addled to his ears.
“I’m sorry to wake you. But Sally called and they want us on set as soon as possible.”
“Oh. Okay, be right out.”
I would wait for him to tell me. Or I could just ask RC. Straight to the point. I couldn’t infer too much from one sleepy conversation. I refused to be that person. But until I knew the truth …
How the hell would I be able to look at him?
30
DRAFT UNSENT
FROM: [email protected]
SUBJECT: Did I dream it?
Are you really him?
Please tell me now. I’m losing my mind. I feel like I could easily be imagining this all. Like I’m playing some horrible joke on myself.
I’m sure I heard your confession. But it could be just as likely that I only wanted to hear you say those words. Surely, you haven’t been lying to me for almost two years. Fine. To be fair, you would argue that you hadn’t actually lied about anything. But come on, let’s call a spade a spade. You withheld some pretty crucial information from me. Do you not trust me?
Part of me feels like you kept the truth from me because you don’t. Part of me is hurt. Part of me is confused and angry. Really angry. I don’t know if I should confront you or just end the friendship? Both of those options suck. Both of those options mean everything changes and that scares me.
Tell me you’re him.
I want it to be you so bad.
Please, just tell me the truth.
My feelings for you haven’t changed in any way. But if I knew one way or the other, I wouldn’t be feeling so damn conflicted about my attraction to Charlie. This is all so complicated. If you aren’t him and I suggest it … I can’t even think about how he’d react.
God, I cannot send this.
