Page 104 of The Charlie Method

I need to get out of here before he fully wakes up and realizes that I’m fleeing like a thief in the night.

I gather the discarded clothing from the bedroom floor, then hurry downstairs. I realize I left my panties upstairs, and I bid them adieu because I will never be returning to this house. I roll my socks to my thighs. Grab my purse. My phone.

I conduct a scan of the shadowy living room to make sure I have everything. Then I run out the door, hopefully before either of them notices I’m gone.

I hope Will went back to sleep. I hope they don’t bother me or message me—

Message me. Shit.

In the front seat of my car, I quickly pull out my phone and open the app. I stare at our chat thread, and I don’t know what I’m feeling.

No, I do know what I’m feeling.

Shame.

But it’s a strange feeling, because a part of me is fighting that awful sensation, insisting there was nothing wrong about last night. And then another part pipes up to recite the thousand reasons why it was.

Does it matter, though? Does this internal battle mean a damn thing when the shame clogging my throat is so thick I can barely breathe?

Without another second of thought, I delete the app.

Last night might have been the best sex of my life, but it can never happen again.

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

WILL

Erased like it never happened

NO MORE THAN FIVE MINUTES ELAPSE FOR THE REST OF THE WEEKENDwithout me thinking about Charlotte.

Her eyes smoky with desire.

Her mouth devouring mine.

Her perky ass pushing back against my dick while Beckett was tonguing her.

Hands down, it was the best sex I’ve ever had.

We woke up, and she was gone. Gone from the app. Profile deleted. It was a knee-jerk reaction on her part. I know that. I was with her every step of the way the night before, watching her responses to our touch. To the kissing. The sex. She was in her element. She loved every second of it, and she held all the power. She got both of us so hot that we couldn’t last more than five minutes the first time. It would’ve been embarrassing if not for the redeeming Act 2 in which we spent the rest of the night worshipping her body.

And then…

Erased like it never happened.

I have her phone number, but the fact that she deleted the chat speaks volumes. She gave me her number to talk about homework and coordinate after-class lab visits. It’d feel like I was taking advantage if I spammed her phone.

Now, I’m fifteen minutes from seeing her, and I find myself jittery during morning skate, to the point that Shane comments on it in the locker room after practice.

“Dude, why are you all jumpy? You keep tapping your foot.”

“I don’t know, maybe some of your ballroom dancing rubbed off on me,” I say sarcastically.

Although I can’t deny Shane killed it last week. He and Diana had entered an amateur dance competition that Coach made the entire team go and watch.

“Your pants were so tight,” Trager says, overhearing us. “Like, I thought your cock was gonna burst out of them.”

“You wish,” Shane says smugly before sauntering toward the exit.

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