While putting on her fakest smile, Charlotte speedruns through shaking the hands of Gabi’s family. She hugs her friends, quickly catches up with them and sits them down. She vaguely notices the decorations, which—she has to give it to Riley—look stunning. The garlands, balloons, glitter, and photos of the couple everywhere are way too over the top for her own liking, but she knows Gabi and Lou will love it.
Charlotte catches a glimpse of Riley every now and then, but she deliberately looks the other way when she catches herself. There is no need to be reminded of what they were doing only hours ago, and they have some catching up to do here if they want to keep Gabi and Lou from being mad at their tardiness.
But where Lou might be someone to let it slip, unfortunately Gabi isn’t.
“Where were you?” she asks with a big smile on her face, her tone deadly.
“I was… well…” Charlotte stammers, she has no idea what to say and her brain is too busy to come up with a lie. “I’ll explain later.”
When her gaze lands on a familiar person out of the corner of her eye, she uses them as a buoy and launches herself at her.
“Hannah!” she squeals. “How lovely to see you here!”
She ignores both Gabi’s eye roll and Hannah’s surprised expression, and utilizes every single brain cell to engage in small talk to save herself from questions she doesn’t want to answer.
When eventually, all the guests have arrived and taken their seats, Charlotte is relieved to be seated all the way on the other side from Riley. At least they won’t be questioned together, and no one will watch them interact.
Once the pink-and-blue suited waiters arrive to bring out everyone’s first glass of champagne, Charlotte softly blows out the stream of air she’d been holding in.
First, Charlotte gets overwhelmed by a deep sense of adoration. Throughout the evening her eyes keep drifting to Riley, whose body is tightly wrapped in a baby blue dress that shows off her muscles and tanned skin. Charlotte admires how much control Riley seems to have over her own likeability. She chats everybody up, treats everybody to a warm smile, and everyone seems to adore her. Just like Charlotte does.
Then, the adoration gets a sour aftertaste. Not only because Charlotte isn’t nearly as skilled nor interested in making people like her, but because she feels uncomfortable about not being on the recipient of those chuckles, smirks, and empathetic responses.
The sourness quickly starts to overshadow every sense; not just her taste, but the stolen glances start to sting, and catching a whiff of Riley's perfume makesher nauseous. Her radar is working overtime; when the dinner is finished and guests are starting to mingle, she senses where Riley is at any given moment, even without trying to. She doesn’t want to be so aware of her, but she can’t help it.
It gets later, and the only two things Charlotte wants to do are impossible. She either wants to bail, which she can’t do to Gabi, or she wants Riley to talk to her, but she can’t risk them drawing too much unwanted attention to themselves. Still a little unwell, she becomes aware of a new, unknown feeling in her chest. It feels like a claw, but instead of it being attached to some kind of monster, she feels like she is the monster. Why is Riley not paying as much attention to her as the other way around? Isn’t she on her radar? Doesn’t she get distracted by Charlotte’s presence?
A few minutes to midnight, she gets her answer. While she quietly sips her champagne, largely ignoring the group she’s attached to, she catches part of the conversation Riley is having nearby.
“What about you?” she hears Hannah’s nasally voice ask her. “When are you getting married?”
Riley snorts and immediately answers. “Oh, no. I won’t be getting married.”
“Why not? Don’t you have a partner?”
“I do not,” Riley says, her low voice giving away her awkwardness around the subject. Hannah doesn’t seem to notice.
“Oh, why is that?”
“I’m really not interested in dating, Hannah,” she hears Riley sigh. “I’m not looking for a partner.”
It's like a punch to the gut.Okay.Riley doesn’t want to date. That’s okay. She isn’t looking for a partner. Big deal. Big fucking deal.
It takes about three seconds before Charlotte’s nausea worsens and she realizes it might be a big deal after all.
She scolds herself for not considering this before, for not asking about this before. She can’t really blame Riley, can she? They never talk about dating—and why would they? The thing between her and Riley had always been about her sexual exploration. Not her romantic one. Not that she'd even be ready for that anyway. She’s just started to have sex with a woman, she doesn’t want to think about dating one yet. Especially not Riley. Stupid Riley.
Riley could fuck her into next week and never talk to her again, and she’d be fully in her own right. So why does the pressure in Charlotte’s throat rise so badly?
And why are her eyes getting wet?
“Excuse me,” she says, her voice rough, clearing her throat to cover up a sob. She pushes her way through the people standing around her, slams her champagne flute on the nearest table, and strides towards the exit. She needs air, and lots of it.
Finding her way to the main entrance, she almost breaks her neck walking down the stairs with her heelson, so she rips them off. Now barefoot, she walks down the path and off the grounds. She doesn’t know where she’s going, but she knows she has to keep walking.
She needs to get away, far away enough for nobody to find her. Somewhere she can be alone. Somewhere she can allow herself to break down.
She clenches her teeth;don’t cry,she tells herself.You can cry when you’re alone.
