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Every time she speaks, I lose an hour of my life. I'm almost afraid to ask her about the flood because if I lose any more time, I'll die before she does. And if I die before she does, she'll be out in the world on her own again, and that's the absolute last place she needs to be. Not because she's defective or damaged or any of that bullshit. But because she's the most precious thing in this fucking world. Sure, maybe bad shit happens to her. Maybe she even causes some of it. But it's not because of any of the bullshit her mother put into her head.
It's because she rushes headlong into life, eager for the experience. She lives in the moment. How many others can say they do the same? How many people throw their whole hearts into every single thing they do the way Charlotte does? Experience each moment the way she does? I know I don't. I've always been too focused on hockey and the trajectory of my career to notice the little things the way she does.
This girl isn't a menace to the world. She'sexactlywhat this world needs. People like her, they're the ones who change the world by showing us what it can be. They don't simply march to the beat of their own drums. They teach us how to dance. They teach us what it means to be alive. God knows, I've felt more alive for the past five months than I have in years. I've been happier in the last twenty-four hours than I ever have been.
She's the reason for that. Her and her messes and her bright personality, and the wild shit she says. She's the reason my life has color and meaning. She's my reason, period.
"Come on," I say, lifting her to her feet. We're putting an end to this line of thinking right now. I'll be damned if she spends another minute of her life feeling like a failure or a defect or anything less than the miracle she is. If I can't convince her to let herself love me, I'll convince her of her own worth at least. She deserves to know she's beautiful exactly the way she is.
Chapter Six
Charlotte
"Where are we going?"I ask Theo, half expecting him to tell me he's kicking me out now that he knows the truth. I wouldn't blame him. He's my exact opposite in every way. But I don't want him to give up on me. I've tried so hard to guard my heart against him, but I just couldn't do it. He's in there and nothing will ever get him out again now. I should know. I've only been trying for five months straight.
"To bed," he says, wrapping a fluffy towel around me. He takes his time meticulously drying me off. Once he's satisfied, he tosses the towel on the floor and then scoops me up into his arms. I'm not little, but he makes it seem easy. He just picks me up like it's nothing and marches through the bathroom, kickingup bubbles as he goes. They float in the air around his knees before falling back to the floor. If we don't get them cleaned up soon, the moisture will evaporate, drying them out. Dry bubbles are just as slippery as wet bubbles.
I don't think Theo cares, though. I'm beginning to think he doesn't care about any of my messes. Part of me is still too afraid to hope. I think it's the same part telling me that I don't belong in his world. The longer I spend with him, the less sway that part holds.
"It's not even dark outside yet," I remind him as he carries me into his bedroom.
"We're not going to sleep."
"Oh." I think about asking if he's going to make love to me now, but can't work up the nerve to ask the question. I wish he would, though. Ever since he put the thought into my mind last night, I haven't been able to dislodge it. I want to know what it's like to be loved by him, to feel him inside me. If he's as talented with his…cock as he is with his tongue, I have a feeling I'll never want to move out of his house.
He sets me in the middle of his bed and then presses gently against my shoulder until I lay back. I land against his pillow with a little bounce, staring up at him. He took the time to carefully dry me off, but he didn't dry himself very well. Water droplets still dot his skin, rivulets sliding down his abdomen. He's hard again. It seems like he's been that way since last night.
"You aren't defective, Charlotte," he says, staring down at me with so much heat in his eyes I can't doubt him. He isn't just saying what he thinks I want to hear. He's saying what he believes. The truth glitters in his eyes like little diamonds in a sea of green. "You aren't damaged or broken, either. There isn't a single thing wrong with you, little one."
"It feels like it," I whisper. It's the truth, but it's not theonlytruth, not anymore. He might not know it, but he isn't justmaking me fall for him. I think he's teaching me how to love myself, too. I see myself in his eyes in a way I don't think I ever have before now.
Maybe I am a walking disaster. But I'm also passionate and kind and smart. I love books and learning and music. I'm good at my job and pay my bills and never ask for much. I love my Uncle John and Theo's mom and my mom, even if she did make me sad. I have goals and dreams and a million things I want to see and do in the world. I volunteer when I have time, and I try to leave the world a little bit better. That has to count for something, right?
I'm not sure. But I want to believe it does. I think I need to believe it does. Ever since I moved here, I've felt a little lost, like I've been drifting through the year unmoored. If my mom couldn't handle me, how could anyone else? Why would they? But Theo…well, Theo doesn't make me feel like I'm too much. He makes me feel like I'm exactly the right amount of everything. Even when he's saying crazy things or stressing me out or talking about eating me, I feel like I'm exactly where I'm supposed to be…like I'm exactly who I'm supposed to be.
Maybe I'm not enough for the rest of the world. But I want to be enough for Theo. I want to be enough for me, too. I'm more than just my messes. We all are, aren't we? I certainly hope so. Otherwise, my future isn't going to be very much fun. Because I've learned a lot in my life about a lot of things. But I've never learned to stop beingme. If that's what I have to do to be accepted by the world, then I don't think I want to be accepted.
I just want to be me. Isn't that enough?
"Do you trust me?" he asks, crawling onto the bed with me.
"Yes." As soon as I say it, I realize just how true it is. Even before last night, he was taking care of me. He gave me a job here so he could watch over me. He paid me way more than necessary, just to make sure I was taken care of. He avoided hisown house, just because he thought he made me uncomfortable. Since the very beginning, he's been taking care of me. I just never realized it until now.
"Then trust me when I say that you're the sweetest little fairy I've ever met," he says, curling his big body around me. He pulls me into his arms, his chest to my back. His lips brush my shoulder. "All the things you think are bad are the things that I fell in love with, baby doll."
"Theo," I gasp.
"It's true. I love that you're a mess, Charlotte. I love that you get flustered and stutter and ramble like a crazy person," he says, a smile in his voice.
"I do not ramble."
"Yeah, you do," he says, splaying his hand across my abdomen. "But I could listen to you ramble all day and never get tired of it. I love knowing I can make you stutter and blush and squeak like a little bird."
"Cannot."
"You make this world better simply by existing," he whispers, trailing his lips up and down the back of my neck. "You makemyworld better simply by existing."
"Theo," I whisper, tears welling in my eyes.
