| 16 |

❝ What happened when a guy shoplifted a calendar? He got twelve months. ❞

"-A MISTAKE. SURELY he can't mean that, right? It wasn't a mistake to me, a kiss isn't a mistake. You can't just kiss someone and say that it was just for the heck of it!" She was panting, nearly out of breath.

"Mmmhm."

"And it's like he doesn't even care what I think about it, he just went ahead and declared it a mistake. I was gonna tell him, I was going to tell him I liked him but then that happened and I'm not sure about him right now. God, he makes me so frustrated, I can't even think right."

"Yup."

"Does he like me, does he hate me, did he like the kiss, is he just saying it was a mistake because he wants us to stay friends? Why did he actually kiss me, did he do it because he likes me? Or maybe he did it because-"

"Charlotte, calm down," Shane groaned over the phone. "I have no idea. To anything you just said. I don't know. Why don't you just, oh, I don't know, ask him?"

Charlotte rolled onto her stomach and pressed her face deep into her thin pillow. "I..."

"You what?"

"I... can't," she mumbled, sinking deeper into the pillow. Charlie inhaled deeply and crossed her legs in the air, squeezing her eyes shut.

"Why not?" he sighed.

"Because... I'm-I'm not good at that stuff. Talking. I'm liable to end up crying or something. Or fainting again."

"Charlotte, he probably feels the same thing with you. I know Theodore, he's antisocial and unsure of how to make small talk without stuttering," Shane said tiredly with a sigh.

Charlie blinked. "Really?"

Theodore seemed so smooth with his charming personality and his quick jokes and snappy pickup lines. There was no way he was nervous talking to her.

"I'll talk to you later Charlotte, maybe I'll give you some tips on how to be smooth or something. Maybe I'll help you prepare for a conversation with Theodore."

"That's be great, thanks Shane," she smiled.

"I'll swing by later," he said, a rustling sound on his line. "Gotta go, talk to you later."

He hung up.

Charlotte doesn't know how long she lay on her too-small bed, holding her iPhone loosely in her hand beside her right ear, laying face-first into her pillow. She hated this. She hated how she had to go to friends for advice on a guy. She hated how a guy was making her feel sick, or queasy, or... She didn't know, her stomach felt all topsy-turvy and sloshy and like wild animals were running and sliding around in there. She hated how she didn't know what to do or what she was feeling or how he was doing this to her.

She needed to get this out, out of her system, away, away, away, away.

Rolling out of her twin sized bed, Charlotte curiously walked over to her desk where a spiral notebook sat.

Skylar did this. She wrote out her feelings.

Charlie used to do this. She had diaries left and right, soaking each page with rants and tears and insecurities. They helped, that's for sure.

She searched her desk drawers for a pencil and found one on the top left. She frowned at the notebook the whole walk back to her bed.

Charlotte sat cross-legged. Opened the notebook. Bit her lip.

She had never been good at expressing words. Her vocabulary was always the same, she had too much rant to fit on the page, her ideas trailed off and were way too long.

Write what you feel.

Charlotte felt angry. Charlotte felt like she could punch someone, like she could punch Theodore. Theodore Orion Higgins.

Charlotte felt exhausted. Too much was happening, everything was coming at once and she hated it. Her brain could only take so much.

Charlotte felt empty. She'd always liked the thought of love and relationships and kissing, but it had never really come to mind to her. Yes, she loved movies and books with it, but she never thought that something love-like could happen to her. But now she just felt empty. Like she craved for it, but it was just out of reach.

Charlie felt... Charlie felt sad.

Skylar would be able to write this feeling in words. She could do it.

But you're not Skylar.

A gulp and a jaw clench later, pencil made contact with paper.

I'm pissed.

God, everything just has to screw up on me.

I have a lovely friendship and then

She scribbled those paragraphs out.

I want to punch something.

She scribbled that out too.

Man, I like him. I do.

I like how he's unable to finish his jokes because he's laughing too hard to finish. I like his ability to bring a smile to my face even when I'm nowhere near him. Just the thought of him keeps me happy.

I like how he drew me. I like how he gave me his sweatshirt. I like how he calms me down when I'm about to have a breakdown. I like how he let me cry on his shoulder.

But God, I hate him. How is that possible? To like someone, but hate them as well?

I hate how he makes me question everything about myself. I hate how he makes me feel all tingly and uncomfortable and hot and un-oxygenated. I hate how he thinks the kiss was a mistake. I hate it. Why did he kiss me then? To confuse me more? I hate it. I hate it.

I hate how I like him so much that I've started to write to rant my feelings about him. God, I'm so pissed with him. Why can't he just swing me into his arms and kiss me, why can't he tell me I matter to him, why can't he say the kiss mattered to him. Why can't he just hug me tightly. God, I just want to hold onto him and be told everything is okay. I want him to stroke my hair and kiss my cheek and give me a big Teddy hug.

I just want to forget about the notes. So what if Theodore isn't the note writer. This sucks. This sucks. This sucks this sucks this sucks this sucks

She scribbled all of that out as well. Charlotte ripped out the two pages of scribbles and crumpled them up, throwing them away.

The feeling she had for Theodore at the moment was indescribable.

And she didn't like it.

•|•|•

Shane walked into the bookstore at around four, the little bell chiming at the door. Charlie was working the cash register when she saw him.

"Oh, thank God," she muttered, glad to see Shane. She was worrying herself into a pile of anxiety.

"This place is incredible," he gaped, walking up to Charlotte. "Your mom owns this place?"

"Yup, and it's part of our house basically. You just walk up those stairs-" Charlotte pointed to the door down a hallway on her right. "-and you're in the living room."

"Nice."

"Okay, umm... I can get mom to do the register, she'll be so psyched that I actually have a friend over that she'll definitely want to take over." Shane snorted.

"I wish I was kidding," Charlie mumbled, walking over to where her mother was talking with a customer.

"Hey, I need you to take the register, I'll be upstairs with Shane."

"Who's Shane?" Charlotte's mom blinked, turning away from the smiling customer.

"I've talked about him like a million times, he's my friend."

Her eyes widened, and darted around the bookstore. She pinpointed Shane and gasped. "Is that him?"

"Yeah, that's Shane."

Her mother's mouth dropped open.

"Oh my word," Mrs. Jackson mumbled. "Okay, I'll take the register. No funny things up there though, okay?"

"I'm leaving now."

•|•|•

Shane and Charlie were chilling in her room, Charlotte on the bed, Shane on the rolling office chair. Charlotte was nervously biting her thumb's nail.

He tended to make himself at home, she noticed, both Theodore's house and her's. He was slouching on the chair and fiddling with a rubix cube she had on her desk.

He was glancing at her sideways, as if trying to subtly look concerned. She crossed her legs and grazed her bottom teeth in her top lip.

"God, th-this is hard for me, sorry."

Shane sat up from his slouched position, setting down the rubix cube, his hands now clasped over his kneecaps. "What, talking? You're doing great."

Charlie gave him a flat look. "Thanks. I've just never been good socially, or, um, good with friendships."

"Are you kidding me?" Shane snorted. "The only real friend I had until you cane into my life was Malcolm, so I'm just about as good as you when it comes to friendship. Nobody's good at that."

Charlotte twirled a piece of her brown, tangled hair around her fingers. "But, you're - you're good with people, and you're popular, and you can talk and joke with people. The only humor I can pull of is the flat, sarcastic remarks. I don't know, I'm just not used to this, having people over and having conversations and having friends. I just feel like I'm doing everything wrong, so I'm just warning you now. If you don't want me around, just be straightforward with me. I'm not...not very good at picking up signals."

Shane seemed confused, almost if he didn't believe her. His emerald, popping-green eyes were squinting and his thin eyebrows were drawn tightly together on his crinkled forehead as he blinked at her. He frantically swiveled towards the edge of her bed so he was sitting beside her. She wanted to laugh at how his dark brown hair swished as he swiveled.

"Hey, listen to me. I'm your friend, and I obviously want you around, why else did I come to your house?"

Charlotte shrugged.

"Malcolm and Theodore are your friends as well. We all like you and your weird-"

"-hey!"

"-sense of humor," he grinned, rubbing the palms of his hands on his jeans. "What? It is weird, but in a good way."

She rolled her eyes at him as he smirked widely at her, all the while raising his shoulders in a 'what can I say?' fashion.

"Fine, fine," she shyly smiled. His cheery mood and his booming laughter was contagious. "I assume Theodore and Malcolm have gossiped to you? About the kiss and, erm... How I like Ted- Theodore?"

Shane grinned devilishly and winked at her. "I knew you had the hots for him."

"God, shut up!" she rushed out, reaching over to smack him. A small dimple appeared on her right cheek. "I like him, yeah. Big whoop."

Her cheeks were stained with blotches of rosy red, probably looking like a rash or something. When she blushed, it was an obvious, unpleasant sight, and it looked like she needed medical attention.

"And what do you want me to do?" he asked with a raised eyebrow.

"Well, I just..." Charlotte's brown eyes darted to the floor. "Why would Theodore ever like me as more than a friend? I mean, I'm an annoyance to myself, I barely like me. How is someone else supposed to?"

He rolled his bottom lip between his teeth. "Hey, don't say that," Shane mumbled, locking eyes with her. "You're amazing, and I bet someone likes you-"

"Nah, that's not... You don't have to sugarcoat it, Shane."

"I'm not... I'm not sugarcoating it, Charlotte," he muttered. "I know that someone likes you, for real. Like... They have a crush on you."

Her heart fluttered. "R-really? How do you know?"

Shane glanced at her warily before spinning in circles on the office chair. "They told me."

Who. Who Who.

"God, you know a lot of people though! Are they tall? Do they play a sport? Do they have a ponytail? Wait, are they male? Or female? Or neither... Wait, oh man, is it you? Oh m-"

"Stop that," Shane groaned, threading his hand through his sleek hair. "Dude, it's not me. There's this other girl, Sadie, that I'm super into."

Sadie, Sadie...

"Wait, Sadie Hunter?"

"Yeah, you know her?" he asked, finally ending the swiveling. "Do you think you can hook me up?"

"Yeah, I know her. Everybody knows her."

He raised his eyebrows. "Do you think you could talk to her for me?"

"Oh, um, I don't think that's possible, since she scares the living shit out of me," Charlotte awkwardly spewed out.

They sat in silence, minus the squeaking of the rolling office chair.

"Will you stop spinning? It's giving me a major headache."

"Sorry," he said bashfully.

"No, I'm sorry," she sighed, feeling slightly guilty for snapping. "I've just been wound so tightly lately, I'm like one of those hair elastics that snaps when you try to tie it around your hair."

"I sadly understood that, having two sisters."

"I'm not usually like this, I swear. I've been more stressed than usual, with..."

She paused.

Maybe that's who had the crush on her. The note writer. What if they have a crush on her, and they're writing her notes because they're crushing on her? It made sense, because of all the pick-up lines and... But then who was her note writer? And who had a crush on her? Shane ruled himself out, and Theodore... He... He couldn't be her note writer. It wasn't possible. But what about... Malcolm.

"OhmagahdMal..." she quickly breathed out, gripping her pillow inconspicuously.

"What?"

"N-nothing, it's nothing, absolutely, positively nothing."

"Charlotte..." Shane warned, sitting on the edge of the squeaky chair. "Tell me what's been stressing you out."

"No, I-I can't," she squeaked, squeezing her lips together.

"C'mon, I won't tell anyone. You can let it out. Trust me."

"Fine," Charlotte said quietly, her head down. "Every school day this school year I've gotten a note, and every single one has been sweet and encouraging and I've never been more excited to walk through the doors of that high school."

Charlotte took a shaky breath before continuing in a rushed, spastic tone. "And so I went to Theodore, and I thought he wrote them, and that's how I met him, and then I met you guys and we became closer and we kissed, and I'm not sure who is writing these notes, and I've just never been more confused. I've kept this bottled up and I just can't, I can't. I'm sorry I've kept this to myself."

He was quiet.

Silence wasn't golden to Charlotte; silence was silver. Like a knife, shining and gleaming and lustrous, cutting through their conversation. Silence was deadly.

Charlotte got anxiety in silence, for silence was deadly.

Finally, Shane opened his mouth.

"So... You became friends with us to see if we wrote you the notes?" His voice was the softest she had ever heard. It was such a contradiction from their original joking tone that it frightened her. His eyes were rounded like moons as he looked at her in alarm.

"No... No, Shane. I only started to talk to you because of the notes, I swear. I think of you as my friend."

"Well, good, because I think of you as my friend as well," he murmured timidly.

Charlie took a sigh of relief. "Okay. I'm sorry, I've just been consumed by these notes."

"Wait, did-did you kiss Theodore just for the hell of then? Just because you thought he was your note writer?"

"No! I just kissed his cheek, just a harmful kiss, and then he kissed me! I actually, genuinely like him, not just because of the notes. I understand that now."

A flash of confusion hit Shane's eyes. "He told us you kissed him."

"Us?"

"Malcolm and I," Shane corrected.

What?

Was he ashamed that he kissed her? Deep breaths, Charlotte. Why would he say that?

"Um, I have to go, my mom wants me home for dinner. I'll talk to you real soon, okay? Whenever you need me, give me a call."

She watched as he left her room with a sad smile on her face.

a/n

goddamn, this chapter is long. i hope you liked it!

please tell me: if i were ever to publish this book, would you buy it/recommend it? because right now, i think publishing could be an option once i finish this up. my parents are supportive and my teacher also has contacted my mom about me publishing. please leave your thoughts :-)

please share this book with all the people you know; the more it gets out there, the better opportunity i'd have to actually publish, which would be a dream come true.

go check out TheTeddyChallenge for me! spread the optimism!

a thanks to everyone who appreciated my humor last chap... dedi to trixehstories thanks girl <3

shane is becoming friendlier, whoop whoop! Sadie is back!!!!!! ooooooh. what's up with teddy? charlie's got it bad for him. caught in the luuuurve bug. got any predictions ;)

sadly a teddy-less chapter. one should be coming soon though ;-)

vote, share, and comment if you liked the chapter! and any time you wanna talk, i'm your girl

so sorry for the long wait; i procrastinate so much it should be illegal.

****will edit later****

GOALS: (oops i forgot to do this when i posted the chapter)
1.3k reads
150 votes
160 comments

until next time...
-Sophie Claflin