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Hudson
My cock is alive and at attention as I watch Charlotte walk on stage. She chooses a song by Meg Myers, which is risky since not many people know the song. Luckily the crowd already embraces her by beauty alone and everyone begins to root her on. She shyly grabs the mic off the stand and tucks her curls behind her ear. Telepathically I’m screaming at her. Shouting for her to rock it out like I know she can, but I stay in my seat and act as neutral as possible around my mates.
Her raspy voice joins the eclectic melody and she looks like a completely different woman. My Charlotte, she’s blooming before my eyes and I couldn’t be prouder of her. She hits the high notes with grace while closing her eyes and I adjust my straining manhood before I burst out of my zipper. She’s wearing tight-as-fuck black pants that stop tight against her strong calves and black strappy heels and a matching black crop top that I was surprised to hear she picked out herself.
She nails the song, a perfect ten, just like her, and the crowd goes bloody wild. Groups of people stand and cheer for her. Turning red, she thanks everyone and hangs the mic back and heads for our sitting area. Not giving a fuck, I grab her up and spin her around in the friendliest hug I can manage. I whisper right against her ear that I want her in my bed tonight. The gang is all lined up behind me to praise her and I step back and snap a few more photos on my cell. I took some on stage, but these memories are just as important, and I want her to have them all. She should be proud and I’m so happy for her, but in the back of my mind I know she doesn’t need me anymore. She did it. All the lessons were so she would be brave enough to fit in, not want to be invisible, and to share her passion for music. I know her songs will come easier now and I’m jealous of everyone who’ll get to see and hear her, knowing I’ll be hundreds of miles, if not continents, away.
For the rest of the night we all drink in celebration of Charlotte and party hard together. I hold off and decide it’s best if the crowd had a good babysitter. My girl is more than a little tipsy and forgets herself as she stumbles onto my lap. She giggles, and I help right her on the couch cushion next to me. I hate the look of defeat on her face; it was her idea not to announce our arrangement to everyone. When I go to whisper in her ear, she gets up and heads toward the loo but doesn’t take any of the girls with her. Heads turn as she walks by and one guy in particular has me squeezing my fists when he follows her. I get up and head that way, but no one notices. Weaving between tables and dodging bodies, I don’t catch up in time and he has her pinned to the hallway wall by the time I reach them. She has her face turned and eyes closed tight, shaking her head no at whatever he’s saying into her ear.
My blood is on fire as I rip him off her by his throat. When he turns to swing at me, I kick high into his chest and he flies back. Charlotte looks terrified so I grab her around the waist and head for the door. No one needs to go to jail tonight, and she needs to feel safe again as soon as possible. I know she’s already endured too much pain at the hand of her father, and I won’t let this son of a bitch set her back. Pulling her clear outside and into the parking garage, we find our driver on his phone. He opens up without a word and I help her inside. She sits pressed against the opposite window, but I don’t push. Instead, I pull out my cell phone and text Marcus that I’m taking her home. If anyone needs me to come back to help their drunk arsess home I will, and I even make a joke that he better not get arrested. He and I have become close these last few weeks working one on one on vocals. He’s a great guy and I get a laughing emoji text back. The drive is quiet and as much as I want to hold her, tell her it’ll all be alright, I stay to my side of the car and wait for her.
We’re home and I thank the driver, tip him, and tell him they still need him back at the bar. Charlotte rushes upstairs but I make my way up slowly, trying to think about what I should say, if anything. By the time I make it up to the hallway that connects all our flats she’s long gone. I realize how badly it hurts me that she shied away from me. Wouldn’t talk to me about how that bastard made her feel, or even just let me hold her and tell her I’d protect her.
I open my unlocked door to a dark and quiet flat, the evening not turning out at all like I thought. Not bothering to turn any lights on, I walk straight to my room and pull my shirt off to crawl in bed. I notice her body under my blankets and smile. It’s dark in my room, but I know she’s here. She came home to my bed tonight; that means more to me than I’ll ever be able to tell her. I finish stripping out of my pants and slip between the sheets, sliding just close enough to her that she feels me. To my utmost pleasure she turns over toward me and I raise my arm for her to lay her head on my chest. She wraps a leg and arm around me and still says nothing. Again, I don’t push. I simply run my hand over her hair and kiss the top of her head. Time goes by, a half hour maybe, and finally her breathing evens out and I think she’s finally found sleep.
Shortly after, I join her and dreams that will never come true take me. Dreams of a life with my siren. Performances together with everyone shouting her name, and worst of all beautiful curly blond-haired children bounce around a house we call a home.
I wake in a sweat with an aching heart and pull her to me just a little tighter. It may never be true, but I have her here with me now and I’m going to make the most of it. I don’t sleep much, just lie with her in my arms, inhaling her smell and rubbing her back.
When morning comes, I reach for her; that side of the bed is cold and empty. I don’t know when I finally fell back asleep and I turn to look at the clock. It’s already noon and she’s gone back home, so as not to be seen. Never in my life have I ever missed anyone. Not my horrid parents, who I felt relieved to leave, not friends or any girlfriend before her, but Charlotte isn’t like anyone I’ve ever met. I sink my face into her pillow and breathe in her delicious floral scent.
Grabbing a shower and finding clean clothes, I head over to Nick’s flat to make sure he’s still alive. I would check on Bandit and Bryon but even if they are alive, they may not be here. I knock because Nick is more responsible than me and actually locks his door. He opens on my second attempt and nods me in.
“Mornin, mate.”
“Shut up.”
“Ow, you’re such a peach when you wake up.” I blow him a sweet and sarcastic kiss and he hands me a cup of coffee, glaring his hatred at me. It’s false, Nick loves me, even if he would never admit it. Too manly and such.
“Where did you bail to so early last night?”
“Some fucker messed with Charlotte outside the loo and I brought her home and sent the car back. Figured you boys would manage.”
His face turns to stone as he asks, “Is she alright?”
I appreciate the anger boiling from Nick at my words. He’s a good old boy, a man of honor and he would have done right by Charlotte last night too had he seen it. Would have probably taken the wanker outside in the back alley for a bit too.
“She’s fine, I think. Haven’t talked about it, but she’s strong. She’ll be good.”
“Hope so. She was a badass on stage last night. Surprised the fuck out of me.”
I was surprised she got up on stage; I’m not surprised she’s a secret bad arse. Smiling to myself knowingly, I change the subject.
“Did Bryon and Bandit make it home? Or to someone’s home at least?”
“Oh yeah, the boys got so drunk I had to tuck them in their own beds last night. Funny how well behaved they were considering.”
We both laugh and he throws some Hot Pockets into the microwave for breakfast. Not too long into our meal, the boys come in howling and whining, miserable bastards. Nick hands them both three extra strength Tylenol and mugs full of black coffee. We chat quietly as they nurse their hangovers and end up playing a few songs acoustic in Nick’s living room for the next few hours. I’m dying to check in with Charlotte, but she doesn’t return my text messages, so I keep telling myself to give her space and distract myself with music for the rest of the day.
