Charlotte Chronicles – Part XXXIX
July 31, 2014 | 
Charlotte Chronicles | 
(1)
Undressed, the holiday novella featuring Noah and Grace, is for sale. Undressed was part of the anthology Snow Kissed so don’t buy it again if you’ve already purchased Snow Kissed. Or you can and that would be really kind, but just know it’s duplicative.
Noah and Grace’s happy ever after hits a stumbling block in the form of one shady professor threatening Noah’s scholarship eligibility. Noah is given the choice of throwing his New Year’s MMA fight for a big payoff or accepting that the true meaning of love isn’t measured by the thickness of his wallet but the depth of Grace’s big heart.
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Next, did you miss Chapter One of Taking Control? That’s right here!
Nathan
After we land, after we are debriefed, after we given instructions on our next training session, and then debriefed again, I am free. I run and errand then call Nick.
“Hey big bro! Good to hear your voice.” His relief is evident although unstated. I know he worries—that they all do. I wonder if she still does.
“I was thinking about coming out. I’ve got shore leave starting in a couple of days.”
“That’d be awesome. I’m back at camp, but I’m sure you can find something to do to occupy your time.”
“Great. I’m booking a flight right now.” I hesitate because I’m going to ask him about Charlotte—a subject that has been off limits for a couple of years now since we got into a fight about how I never should have started that shit with her. Nick’s abundant use of profanity rivals almost anyone on my TEAM and we are all notorious for being unable to have a conversation without at least a fuck spit out every other sentence. “Is anyone else in the family around?” I ask casually but he knows. We’re brothers. How could he not?
“Charlie? She’s actually close to you. A boy of hers got traded to the SD Commandants…In fact, I got a call from her the other day. You got shit to tell me?”
Charlie? That’s what the Reese fuckhead called her. “Since when is Charlotte suddenly got a boy’s nickname?” I’m annoyed and ignore the rest of the question.
“Since when do you care?” he shoots back. “And answer the goddamned question. Are you bringing home some girl to mom?”
“What the fuck are you talking about? Where’s Charlotte?”
“She’s in fucking San Diego. I just told you that.”
“I’m not bringing anyone home to Mom,” I say. “Where in San Diego. This is a big fucking town.”
“I don’t know,” he huffs. “I’m guessing wherever it is you buy rings because she apparently believes you are planning to propose to some Southern California girl that none of us have ever met.”
I filter through his words, turning them over in my head, trying to grasp the full meaning of them and as they tumble into place, I’m both elated and worried. “I’m only ever going to marry one girl, Nick.”
There’s a long pause on the other end. “Well…” he says. I’ve apparently dumbfounded him. “Well. Good. Good.” He begins to laugh, a loud but almost kind of painful sound. “I can’t fucking believe it. It’s taken you longer to get your head on straight than the mission to the moon, but you have, right? I got her cell phone number. You need that?”
“Yeah.”
He reels it off for me. “She usually stays in those boutique hotels so who knows where she’s at in the city. Fuck. Let me check my messages again…no, she never said where she was staying. Hold on. Let me text her.”
While I wait for a response, I feel a burn of jealousy toward Nick. He’s got her cellphone number. He can text her with ease. But all of this is a situation of my own making. I’m the one who broke us and I’ll be the one to put us back together.
“She’s at the Del,” he says finally with a laugh. “You lucky son of a bitch. She’s right next door.”
“Thanks.” We spend the next fifteen minutes catching up on everything else. He doesn’t like the rookie wide receiver they drafted. He spends too much time yukking it up to the media. Nick likes everyone to keep their excesses on the down low. Want to bang a supermodel? That’s fine just don’t brag about it when you do. He thinks its a distraction. The only thing you should be known for is your play on the field, not off of it.
After I ring off, the blonde hair I saw in the window at Tiffany’s when I was holding one of the diamonds up to the light springs to mind. I didn’t even consider at the time that it could have been Charlotte because what were the odds? But she’s here and like Nick said, next door. The Hotel Del Coronado is an institution that sits right up the beach from where we train.
I settle in for the night. Tomorrow I’ll shave, put on one of my service uniforms, and throw myself at her feet.
The next morning, a knock at my apartment door while I’m shaving sets my heart thumping. I know it’s not Charlotte yet I can’t stop hoping.
“From the look of disappointment on your face, I’m guessing you thought I was the pizza delivery guy.” Cabby says. “Want to go for a run?”
I glance at my watch. It’s barely past six and though the sun is shining, begging forgiveness probably works better if I don’t wake her up too early. “Yeah. Let me finish up and I’ll be out.”
“You really going to propose to letter girl?” Cabby asks following me to the bathroom.
“Charlotte,” I say. “And yes. Why not?”
“Because relationships don’t work for guys in the field. You got to have the ability to de-stress yourself in the time honored fashion of fucking.”
I scrape the soap and hair off my face, tapping my straight edge against the sink. I want to be smooth when I see her again so that if she allows me to kiss her—no when she allows me to kiss her—I don’t scratch one inch of her smooth skin.
“That’s not a problem,” I say.
“Are you fucking serious?” Cabby asks in astonishment. “Have you really gone without sex for nine fucking years? Are you even human? I thought the Monk nickname was a joke. Like calling a tall guy shorty or the lean guy Fat Bastard.”
There’s no reason to respond. I look at him steadily in the mirror while finishing my business. “More to life than getting your rocks off.”
“I’ve seen you with women. I’ve seen you leave bars with women,” he accuses and trails behind me as I move to the bedroom to pull on shorts and a pair of running shoes. After spraying myself down with sun screen that will be sweated off around mile six, I grab my keys and phone. “Are you impotent?” he finally whispers.
“Nah man.” I rubbed my nose. “It never felt right. None of those girls were Charlotte. I knew I was breaking her heart by shutting her out. Couldn’t compound it by sleeping with another woman.”
“You are a monk. A sick one.” Cabby mutters. “If she doesn’t say yes, will you finally have sex? You’d be a better teammate if you had sex.”
“She’s going to say yes and fuck you Cabby. I’ve been the best damn teammate you ever had.”
“No sex for nine years?” He shakes his head and starts the Jeep. “Nine years. I can’t go without for like nine days. You are the best goddamn teammate I’ve ever had because if you can function with that much sperm backed up in your pipes, you’re a super hero of some kind.”
“Hey big bro! Good to hear your voice.” His relief is evident although unstated. I know he worries—that they all do. I wonder if she still does.
“I was thinking about coming out. I’ve got shore leave starting in a couple of days.”
“That’d be awesome. I’m back at camp, but I’m sure you can find something to do to occupy your time.”
“Great. I’m booking a flight right now.” I hesitate because I’m going to ask him about Charlotte—a subject that has been off limits for a couple of years now since we got into a fight about how I never should have started that shit with her. Nick’s abundant use of profanity rivals almost anyone on my TEAM and we are all notorious for being unable to have a conversation without at least a fuck spit out every other sentence. “Is anyone else in the family around?” I ask casually but he knows. We’re brothers. How could he not?
“Charlie? She’s actually close to you. A boy of hers got traded to the SD Commandants…In fact, I got a call from her the other day. You got shit to tell me?”
Charlie? That’s what the Reese fuckhead called her. “Since when is Charlotte suddenly got a boy’s nickname?” I’m annoyed and ignore the rest of the question.
“Since when do you care?” he shoots back. “And answer the goddamned question. Are you bringing home some girl to mom?”
“What the fuck are you talking about? Where’s Charlotte?”
“She’s in fucking San Diego. I just told you that.”
“I’m not bringing anyone home to Mom,” I say. “Where in San Diego. This is a big fucking town.”
“I don’t know,” he huffs. “I’m guessing wherever it is you buy rings because she apparently believes you are planning to propose to some Southern California girl that none of us have ever met.”
I filter through his words, turning them over in my head, trying to grasp the full meaning of them and as they tumble into place, I’m both elated and worried. “I’m only ever going to marry one girl, Nick.”
There’s a long pause on the other end. “Well…” he says. I’ve apparently dumbfounded him. “Well. Good. Good.” He begins to laugh, a loud but almost kind of painful sound. “I can’t fucking believe it. It’s taken you longer to get your head on straight than the mission to the moon, but you have, right? I got her cell phone number. You need that?”
“Yeah.”
He reels it off for me. “She usually stays in those boutique hotels so who knows where she’s at in the city. Fuck. Let me check my messages again…no, she never said where she was staying. Hold on. Let me text her.”
While I wait for a response, I feel a burn of jealousy toward Nick. He’s got her cellphone number. He can text her with ease. But all of this is a situation of my own making. I’m the one who broke us and I’ll be the one to put us back together.
“She’s at the Del,” he says finally with a laugh. “You lucky son of a bitch. She’s right next door.”
“Thanks.” We spend the next fifteen minutes catching up on everything else. He doesn’t like the rookie wide receiver they drafted. He spends too much time yukking it up to the media. Nick likes everyone to keep their excesses on the down low. Want to bang a supermodel? That’s fine just don’t brag about it when you do. He thinks its a distraction. The only thing you should be known for is your play on the field, not off of it.
After I ring off, the blonde hair I saw in the window at Tiffany’s when I was holding one of the diamonds up to the light springs to mind. I didn’t even consider at the time that it could have been Charlotte because what were the odds? But she’s here and like Nick said, next door. The Hotel Del Coronado is an institution that sits right up the beach from where we train.
I settle in for the night. Tomorrow I’ll shave, put on one of my service uniforms, and throw myself at her feet.
The next morning, a knock at my apartment door while I’m shaving sets my heart thumping. I know it’s not Charlotte yet I can’t stop hoping.
“From the look of disappointment on your face, I’m guessing you thought I was the pizza delivery guy.” Cabby says. “Want to go for a run?”
I glance at my watch. It’s barely past six and though the sun is shining, begging forgiveness probably works better if I don’t wake her up too early. “Yeah. Let me finish up and I’ll be out.”
“You really going to propose to letter girl?” Cabby asks following me to the bathroom.
“Charlotte,” I say. “And yes. Why not?”
“Because relationships don’t work for guys in the field. You got to have the ability to de-stress yourself in the time honored fashion of fucking.”
I scrape the soap and hair off my face, tapping my straight edge against the sink. I want to be smooth when I see her again so that if she allows me to kiss her—no when she allows me to kiss her—I don’t scratch one inch of her smooth skin.
“That’s not a problem,” I say.
“Are you fucking serious?” Cabby asks in astonishment. “Have you really gone without sex for nine fucking years? Are you even human? I thought the Monk nickname was a joke. Like calling a tall guy shorty or the lean guy Fat Bastard.”
There’s no reason to respond. I look at him steadily in the mirror while finishing my business. “More to life than getting your rocks off.”
“I’ve seen you with women. I’ve seen you leave bars with women,” he accuses and trails behind me as I move to the bedroom to pull on shorts and a pair of running shoes. After spraying myself down with sun screen that will be sweated off around mile six, I grab my keys and phone. “Are you impotent?” he finally whispers.
“Nah man.” I rubbed my nose. “It never felt right. None of those girls were Charlotte. I knew I was breaking her heart by shutting her out. Couldn’t compound it by sleeping with another woman.”
“You are a monk. A sick one.” Cabby mutters. “If she doesn’t say yes, will you finally have sex? You’d be a better teammate if you had sex.”
“She’s going to say yes and fuck you Cabby. I’ve been the best damn teammate you ever had.”
“No sex for nine years?” He shakes his head and starts the Jeep. “Nine years. I can’t go without for like nine days. You are the best goddamn teammate I’ve ever had because if you can function with that much sperm backed up in your pipes, you’re a super hero of some kind.”
<<< >>>
Charlotte
When Reese arrives, we head out for some reconnaissance before we hit the clubs to find victim number 1. I need to see Nathan. Knowing he’s so close and laying my eyes on him one more time is intolerable.
“This is a bad idea,” Reese says. “Seeing him will only fuel old fantasies. You need to move forward.”
“I promise you will enjoy this.” We stop before we get the guards who prevent tourists from getting too close to the training sailors.
Spreading a blanket out, I pull Reese beside me. “Pretend like we’re having a romantic breakfast.”
I feel like the biggest perv but they’re too far away for me to see anything but sweaty flesh and facial hair so I pull out my binoculars
“Do you see him?”
No, I … wait.” I zoom in and there he is. Bare chested, his skin glistening in the sun from oil? sweat? He’s wearing black shorts with a thin white stripe down the side. There are tattoos on his shoulder and arms but none on his chest. His hair is longish and starting to curl at the bottom but his face is completely smooth. There’s his square jaw and his dark brows, furrowed. His lips are slightly open. I wonder if he breathes out of his nose or mouth as he runs. As he moves, his pectoral muscles bunch and release. The binoculars slip lower and I trace my way down his ridged abdomen to the tops of thighs and down to his feet clad in black boots. I want watch him all day.
“This is a bad idea.” Reese says and grabs the binoculars. He adjusts them and sucks in a breath. “Oh my god, Charlie, I could get into this stalking thing. The guy on the right totally ticks my bear fetish. I thought all the military dudes had to shave. I dated this one Army guy. Baby face. He could’ve used a little facial hair.”
“Special forces,” I mutter as two bare chested men jog up to the guard, point at us and then run off. “Um, maybe we should leave?”
“I’m not done stalking,” Reese says pulling away from my hand. Finally he drops the lenses on the blanket and falls back stare at the sky. “Now that you’ve seen him are you ready to go out and forget him?”
“I just had to see my Nate one last time.”
“He hasn’t been your Nate in 9 years.”
The bucket of water Reese throws on me is ocean cold. With a deep breath, I get to my feet. “You’re right. Come on. Let’s go home. I have so much to do for Peyton and Christian before we go out tonight.”
“Not to mention going to the pedi/mani and blow out appointment I made for you.” Reese bends over to pick over the blanket.
“Leaving so soon?” I whirl around and there’s Nate, not even remotely out of breath with three other guys standing slightly behind him. I’m the breathless one. In fact, my heart is pounding so strong and loud, I’m afraid it’s going to burst out of my chest. My airways are closing down and I’m lightheaded. Reese shoots me a worried glance and wraps his arm around me just as I begin to sway. “We’re bird watching asshole.”
We all swivel and to look at the nearly empty sky. “Oh sure there aren’t any now but this is the migratory path of the fondue biplatypus and it only flaps through North America during a very discrete time period. If you’ll. Excuse us we don’t want to miss it.” Reese flicks the blanket and sand goes everywhere. I’m the only one who flinches though. Nate and his crew stare impassively at us, arms at their side, as if they’re ready to draw on us but given their shirtless chests and tiny shorts, I wasn’t sure what they’d pull out. Reese tucks the now folded blanket under his arm and then grabs me and starts marching us off. I follow in a daze.
“Charlotte,” I hear behind me. Nate sounds almost…anguished. I turn back but Reese won’t let go of me. “Come one Charlie. We’ve seen enough to know that bird is never going to land here. It’s a flightily, stupid bird. We’ve been waiting for it to come home for years, but it never did. It was off in other countries and places feathering the nests of dozens of other birds and is too busy to fly home. It’s dead by now and if it isn’t, it should be.”
“Fondue biplatypus? What the fuck is that?” Another guy mentions.
“Charlotte.” Nate says again but Reese is right. Nate and my relationship is dead now. And if it isn’t, it should be. I turn away and thread my fingers through Reese’s.
“You’re right. That bird is dead.”
“This is a bad idea,” Reese says. “Seeing him will only fuel old fantasies. You need to move forward.”
“I promise you will enjoy this.” We stop before we get the guards who prevent tourists from getting too close to the training sailors.
Spreading a blanket out, I pull Reese beside me. “Pretend like we’re having a romantic breakfast.”
I feel like the biggest perv but they’re too far away for me to see anything but sweaty flesh and facial hair so I pull out my binoculars
“Do you see him?”
No, I … wait.” I zoom in and there he is. Bare chested, his skin glistening in the sun from oil? sweat? He’s wearing black shorts with a thin white stripe down the side. There are tattoos on his shoulder and arms but none on his chest. His hair is longish and starting to curl at the bottom but his face is completely smooth. There’s his square jaw and his dark brows, furrowed. His lips are slightly open. I wonder if he breathes out of his nose or mouth as he runs. As he moves, his pectoral muscles bunch and release. The binoculars slip lower and I trace my way down his ridged abdomen to the tops of thighs and down to his feet clad in black boots. I want watch him all day.
“This is a bad idea.” Reese says and grabs the binoculars. He adjusts them and sucks in a breath. “Oh my god, Charlie, I could get into this stalking thing. The guy on the right totally ticks my bear fetish. I thought all the military dudes had to shave. I dated this one Army guy. Baby face. He could’ve used a little facial hair.”
“Special forces,” I mutter as two bare chested men jog up to the guard, point at us and then run off. “Um, maybe we should leave?”
“I’m not done stalking,” Reese says pulling away from my hand. Finally he drops the lenses on the blanket and falls back stare at the sky. “Now that you’ve seen him are you ready to go out and forget him?”
“I just had to see my Nate one last time.”
“He hasn’t been your Nate in 9 years.”
The bucket of water Reese throws on me is ocean cold. With a deep breath, I get to my feet. “You’re right. Come on. Let’s go home. I have so much to do for Peyton and Christian before we go out tonight.”
“Not to mention going to the pedi/mani and blow out appointment I made for you.” Reese bends over to pick over the blanket.
“Leaving so soon?” I whirl around and there’s Nate, not even remotely out of breath with three other guys standing slightly behind him. I’m the breathless one. In fact, my heart is pounding so strong and loud, I’m afraid it’s going to burst out of my chest. My airways are closing down and I’m lightheaded. Reese shoots me a worried glance and wraps his arm around me just as I begin to sway. “We’re bird watching asshole.”
We all swivel and to look at the nearly empty sky. “Oh sure there aren’t any now but this is the migratory path of the fondue biplatypus and it only flaps through North America during a very discrete time period. If you’ll. Excuse us we don’t want to miss it.” Reese flicks the blanket and sand goes everywhere. I’m the only one who flinches though. Nate and his crew stare impassively at us, arms at their side, as if they’re ready to draw on us but given their shirtless chests and tiny shorts, I wasn’t sure what they’d pull out. Reese tucks the now folded blanket under his arm and then grabs me and starts marching us off. I follow in a daze.
“Charlotte,” I hear behind me. Nate sounds almost…anguished. I turn back but Reese won’t let go of me. “Come one Charlie. We’ve seen enough to know that bird is never going to land here. It’s a flightily, stupid bird. We’ve been waiting for it to come home for years, but it never did. It was off in other countries and places feathering the nests of dozens of other birds and is too busy to fly home. It’s dead by now and if it isn’t, it should be.”
“Fondue biplatypus? What the fuck is that?” Another guy mentions.
“Charlotte.” Nate says again but Reese is right. Nate and my relationship is dead now. And if it isn’t, it should be. I turn away and thread my fingers through Reese’s.
“You’re right. That bird is dead.”
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Poor Nathan. Once he got on the path of mistakes it gets hard to turn around. And Reese? OMG that’s a m/m romance I’d read cause seriously…he needs love 🙂