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Charlie
Are you dead?
Did Bones’ massive eggplant destroy you?
I need details
I called her and flopped down on the bed. The bed that smelled like me and Bones, and the unique perfume that two people made when they’d been intimate for hours.
“I thought I was going to have to send out a search party,” Charlie said in way of greeting.
“I feel like I’ve been injected with a biker-lust serum,” I said. “He’s all I can think about. He just left and all I want to do is call him back and demand he ignore his obligations and service me again.”
“Service you? You sound like the madame of a brothel.”
“I sound like a client at a brothel.” I snorted. “God, Charlie. Seriously, I’ve never experienced this before.”
She sighed. “Yeah, that’s the hormones talking.”
“I hope so. Because it’s making me all fuzzy and cloudy and…”
“Stupid.”
“Stupid, yes. Totally stupid.” I paused. “Is this how you feel with Savage?”
“Yeah. And I don’t like that Savage makes me feel that way, which is exactly why I’ve ghosted him. Or tried to ghost him…”
“Tried?”
“He was pulling up to Willa and Duke’s as I was leaving. One thing led to another…he asked me to go for a ride on his bike. Instead I went for a ride on his dick. I snuck out of the clubhouse this morning while he was still sleeping.”
“Oh, Charlie.”
“Don’t oh Charlie me. I’m a woman and he’s hot as hell. You try saying no to a biker that makes you feel alive and seen and understood.”
“You poor bastard,” I muttered.
“Tell me about it.” She sighed again. “Willa warned me, you know.”
“Did she?”
“Yeah. She said that Savage doesn’t do repeats and to absolutely not fall in love with him.”
“But he’s slept with you more than once. Maybe that means he’s falling for you too.”
“No. It doesn’t mean that,” she said. “I’m not sure what it means that I’m apparently the exception to his repeat rule, but I know guys like him. He’ll stick around for as long as he gets that dopamine hit and then poof, gone. I’m no better than some other vice. The minute I don’t offer him a distraction from whatever it is that’s eating him, then he’s going to bail. And I’m not going to be left holding the bag. I’m not going to be left with a broken heart. I don’t want to love someone who can’t love me back.”
“You might not have a choice in that,” I said quietly. “We don’t pick who we love.”
“No, we definitely don’t. But I have a choice if I decide to stick around hoping for scraps. I’m not a scrap girl. I’m a whole meal kind of girl.” She fell silent for a moment. “That didn’t make sense.”
“It made sense to me,” I said, smiling even though she couldn’t see me. “And if he can’t love you back, then there’s something wrong with him. Not you.”
“Maybe there’s something wrong with all of us.”
“Maybe there is. But there’s still someone out there who will you love you, flaws and all.”
“Yeah. I guess so.”
