There's A Reason For Warning Signs
Charlie | The Past
A Year and a Half Ago
Everystoryhasthatmoment that seizes your insides and refuses to let go. It’s the first tremor before your heart is shattered by a betrayal you never expected. You can’t look away, compelled to race headlong into the disaster you sense is waiting.
That’s what makes those stories unforgettable. The jolt of the crash and the storm of emotions that linger when the dust settles. They barrel toward you, pounding at your heart, desperate to break through. If you crave angst—an emotional masochist, as Amelia calls me—you throw the doors wide open, letting them in just to feel alive.
It's different when it's your story.
I chase life with everything I have, never apologizing, never looking back. After we lost my sister, I promised myself I’d pack every year with as much living as possible. My heart stays wide open, ready to welcome whatever comes, and I dive in without hesitation.
But today feels different. There's a hesitation where there should be certainty.
Usually, I’d leap into new experiences without a second thought.
"Girl, are you finally ready to go to this party and relax?" Amelia asks, bouncing up and down on her feet. "You've been busting your ass between school and work."
Pieces of my curly lavender hair fly as I blow out a breath. "Yeah. Keaton’s excited for tonight. Lately, finals and work have kept us so busy that it feels like we haven’t seen each other in forever."
Amelia's gray eyes widen. "It's that bad? You two live together, though."
"We do, but lately it’s just shower, sex, and sleep after work." I toss my mascara on the vanity and turn to her. "It’ll get better after graduation. Once college ends, we’ll have more free time."
Maybe there’s a bug on campus. But that twisted feeling in my stomach? It’s not going away, and I can’t convince myself it’s nothing.
"Charlie, are you okay?"
Not wanting to miss out on the chance to spend time with Keaton and our friends, I paste a smile on my face. "I'm good. How do I look?"
Amelia's lips curl into a devious smirk. "Oh, I can't wait to see Keaton's reaction when he gets a good look at you. That boy will throw you over his shoulder and cart you off to the first available empty room."
Her words spark a reel of memories in my mind, and I can’t help but laugh. Keaton and I have always had explosive chemistry. We finally lost our virginity to each other at sixteen, after years of playful teasing that never quite crossed the line—until it did.
I met Keaton after we moved in next door, just before my fifth birthday. With my little sister only two, Keaton became my main playmate. After my party, we were inseparable. He’d turned five a week before, so we celebrated every birthday together. We grew from best friends to first loves, became a couple at fourteen, and lovers at sixteen. Now, at twenty-two, we’re about to graduate, dreaming of a house, careers, marriage, and a family. We’ve planned our future since our pretend wedding at eight.
Not much longer to go before we get started on them.
"Let's hope so. That boy's sexting powers are ridiculous. He had me all hot and bothered while I was serving customers and nearly had to go to the bathroom to take care of myself."
As we get ready to leave, I snatch the keys to our apartment off the hook, double-check my phone, lock up, and meet Amelia at the bottom of the stairs. We're both eager, and the air shifts as we head toward the party.
"Ohhh. You naughty little butterfly," she teases, walking backward so she can see me. "How in the heck do two people who've only ever slept with each other get to be so filthy?"
"Porn, my friend. Lots and lots of porn," I quip with a wink.
My words make her stumble, and she almost falls on her ass, which has me clutching my stomach as my laughter rings out around us.
She dusts her hands together and shakes her head at me with mock sorrow. "Your poor innocence has been stolen."
"Well, yeah. Look at who my best friend is."
"Why, I never."
We settle into a quiet conversation about classes, and she spills the tea on all the juicy gossip she heard today.
Thank goodness I chose sandals over the three-inch heels Amelia pushed for. Otherwise, I’d be face-planting on the sidewalk long before we reached David’s party.
