Page 32 of Shadowing Charlotte

Chapter thirty-two

Alexander

C harlotte was absolutely adorable when she was angry. I'd told her the truth; she'd made some foolish decisions since I'd met her, but being young wasn't inherently a fault. I hoped I'd conveyed that to her in the simplest way possible.

I was relieved that she'd finally told me what had been bothering her. While I could understand her hesitancy to speak about her insecurities, open communication was a necessary part of being in a relationship.

"So… are you done sulking? Am I still your boyfriend?" I tightened my hold around her, relishing the way she felt in my arms after such a long time apart.

"My asshole boyfriend…" she replied against my neck, still pouting.

"I'll take it, for now." A wide smile spread across my face.

I realized that no matter what she did, I couldn't let go of her.

Charlotte was hard to handle. Her mood swings left me confused and agitated, but she was a good person at heart; the one person I wanted to remain in my life, even if it meant fighting with her at every turn.

For a while, we sat in silence, until Charlie's stomach rumbled like an angry dragon. "Are you hungry, babe?"

"Not really," Charlotte replied. "Let's go get smoothies?"

"You can't live off smoothies, Charlotte."

"I mean, technically…" she began, making me roll my eyes. I already knew she had some smart-ass contradicting list to give me.

"Alright, you know what I mean. Get dressed and we'll go do something and grab a smoothie." I commanded, smacking her ass cheek as she rose. Charlie let out a little yelp, throwing a heated look over her shoulder as she padded over to her dresser .

I watched as she dressed, admiring every inch of her as she moved. "Am I crazy or do you have more freckles?"

"The sun does that." Charlotte shrugged, pulling on a green t-shirt and a pair of panties.

"You don't have a family history of skin cancer or anything, do you?" I asked curiously, crossing the space and trailing my fingers over her arm. Her skin was still warm, despite the fact that she'd been out of the sun for well over an hour. "You need to use sunscreen, princess."

"I will, I promise," she agreed. "When I was younger, my parents took me camping. I stayed out in the sun so long I looked like a lobster. For two days, I couldn't even sleep because of the pain. My skin blistered and peeled off."

I smirked, kissing her cheek. "Sounds like one of those horror movies you love so much…" I mused.

Charlotte laughed, the sound filling the space with an entirely different kind of warmth. The air around us felt light, the worries and pressures of reality melting away, leaving no room for anything but happiness.

Charlotte slipped into a pair of shorts and reached in the closet, plucking out slip-on shoes. I watched in fascination as her hands worked in a flurry, twisting her long hair around her fingers and pinning it up in a large clip.

"Ready?" she asked with an expectant smile, her eyes shining at me.

As her gaze fell on the towel around my waist, she laughed again.

"Hold on…" she disappeared into the other room, the one I'd never been in, and returned a few minutes later.

"I don't think Daddy will miss these." She tossed me a small pile of clothing, the belt buckle colliding painfully with my chest. "What size shoe do you wear, my love? " she called out, retreating once more.

"Eleven." There was a long moment of silence, and she returned with a pair shoes. "Fuck no…" They were hideous. Charlotte cocked her head to the side, grinning as she held them out expectantly. "No, really. I'd rather wear my soaked boots." A huff spilled from her lips, and she rolled her eyes.

"I have a pair of ten and a half!" she called out. "Sneakers!"

"I'll try them." I replied. I'd rather be uncomfortable all afternoon than wear those ugly ass shoes she'd brought me. When I was dressed, feeling slightly suffocated by her father's clothes, she grinned at me.

"You look hot…" she informed me, making me snort.

"I look like a fucking frat boy," I replied scathingly.

"What's wrong with that?" she asked, leaning against the doorframe and crossing her arms over her chest, the corners of her mouth twitching in amusement .

"Nothing, if I was a frat boy."

She rolled her eyes and shook her head, reaching for my hand.

"Come on… Stop whining," she said, lacing her fingers through mine as we walked through the house. Charlotte paused in the living room, rummaging through her purse.

I watched as she pulled her license and cash from her wallet and shoved them in her pocket, before opening her little contact case.

"Shouldn't you…" She plucked out one of the contacts and slipped it between her eyelids.

"…wash your hands?" I finished. She shrugged at me an unscrewed the other side, popping the second contact in. "Gross, Charlie."

"I'll take them out when we get back. Glasses are more comfortable, but I hate wearing them." I couldn't understand why. Charlotte looked adorable in her glasses.