He lifted his gaze and locked it into mine. Suddenly his lips collided with mine, and in a second, I was squeezed by his powerful body against the wall.
He took my breath away, leaving only a soft smile at the corner of my lips and a moan with his name on them, "Charlie."
"You have no idea how you make me feel, Stephanie," he said as he took me in his arms, carrying me inside the apartment.
The weight of his gaze pulled at me, a magnetic force drawing us closer. A breath, a heartbeat, and our worlds converged—lips meeting with an urgency neither of us had anticipated.
The solid warmth of him pressed me into the wall, his every contour molding against mine, leaving me breathless. As we parted, a lingering smile played upon my lips.
His voice, husky and filled with emotions too vast to name, whispered near my ear.
"Stephanie..." With a gentle yet firm grip, he cradled me, pulling us inside.
His fingers danced lightly over my skin as he guided me to the sofa, laying me down with a tenderness that belied his rugged appearance.
His lips brushed my forehead in a gentle kiss, a sharp contrast to the rough stubble on his chin.
"I've been... distant," he admitted, eyes shadowed with regret. "I've built walls, not just around my patients but around myself."
I sat up, locking onto his eyes, seeking answers.
"What are you trying to say, Charlie?"
He ran a hand through his graying hair, the weight of his confession evident in his stance.
"Stephanie, I'm fucked up in so many ways. Consumed by work, lost in my own thoughts, I've let relationships crumble, and I fear I'll hurt you too."
My laughter, soft and light, filled the space between us.
"Considering my recent injuries, I'd say I can handle a bit of pain."
His eyes, heavy with intent, met mine.
"I'm not one for commitments, Stephanie. My life's chaotic, I am loner, and I can offer nothing more than fleeting moments."
I rose to my feet, the heat of his body palpable as I placed a finger on his chest.
"Charlie, moments are all we have."
His smirk revealed a hint of satisfaction.
"Every girl thinks they're different, that they can change me. But I don't change. For anyone."
I leaned closer, my hands working deftly at his buttons.
"Trust me, I'm not trying to change you."
He hesitated, the lines on his forehead deepening.
"The years between us..."
I silenced him with a bold move, moving my hand down inside his pants, reveling in the surprised gasp that escaped his lips.
"Does age really matter now?" I whispered, tilting my head up.
In an instant, the distance was gone, his mouth capturing mine in a fiery dance of longing and intensity.
Our lips melded in a fiery embrace, and I perched on him, entwining my fingers in his salt-and-pepper locks. Swiftly, he slid his hand beneath my shirt, whisking it off over my head, letting it fall to the floor. As his lips trailed from mine to my neck, I arched in response.
His hands traced the contours of my back, locking my hips to his lap. Then, in one smooth motion, he rose, carrying me deeper into the apartment.
"Bedroom is on the left," I murmured into his mouth as he carried me into the bedroom.
He gently placed me on the bed, discarding his shirt. A smirk danced on his lips, his raised eyebrow meeting my locked gaze.
Drawing nearer, he laid atop me, fingers intertwining with mine, pinning my hands above my head. His lips melded with mine again, his tongue orchestrating a tantalizing dance within my mouth.
It felt as though I'd never been touched this way before—like the others were mere boys, and he was the only man who knew precisely how to push me to the brink of madness.
He possessed an innate knowledge of how to kiss, how to caress, and how to unravel me entirely.
Yes, there was an age gap between us, a looming realization that after him, no one else might measure up. Yet, deep down, I had a feeling that this was just a passing moment, as he had hinted it might be.
He deftly slid my pants down, trailing kisses along my thighs before retrieving a condom from his pants. Once back with me, the condom secure, he wasted no time. With one determined thrust, he claimed me, eliciting a gasp that tightened every muscle in my body.
His hunger surpassed mine, his lips exploring every inch of my trembling body. The way he moved, drawing me closer, revealed an innate mastery. The bed echoed our passion with each powerful movement.
"Stephanie," he moaned into my mouth.
"Charlie," I screamed, my nails clawing into his back as my body shuddered, contracting against him.
"Damn," he exhaled as his body tensed atop mine. With one final thrust, he collapsed, a smile lingering on his lips.
For a moment or two, we lay intertwined, our bodies coated in sweat, consumed by lust and desire.
"Can I just say..." I began, but he silenced me by placing a finger on my lips.
"You're simply incredible," he murmured, drawing me in for a kiss.
I grinned. "Shower?"
He cradled me in his arms, carrying me to the bathroom within the bedroom.
Giggles escaped me as he gently set me down, planting a tender kiss on my forehead.
Drops of water trailed down our skin as we tightened towels snugly around ourselves. Our footsteps left faint prints on the hardwood as we moved from the humid confines of the bathroom to the warmth of the living room.
The space seamlessly transitioned to a kitchen, the scent of his cologne still lingering in the air.
I pulled open the fridge, revealing rows of condiments and chilled wine.
The bottle of Pinot Gris, its label cool under my fingertips, met the edge of two glasses. The golden liquid danced and swirled as I filled them.
"Do you think Mrs. Kravitz heard us?" he asked with a mischievous grin, wrapping his arms around me.
I stood on my tiptoes, planting a gentle kiss on his chest, since his height made reaching his lips a challenge.
"Well, if she did, at least we gave her something to talk about."
He chuckled, lifting me onto the kitchen counter and taking a sip from his glass.
"Is this the wine that tripped you?"
Taking a sip, I nodded.
"That's the one, and your naughty cat."
His eyes twinkled.
"Mr. Black has a habit of causing trouble when I'm away."
I laughed, "Mr. Black? How original!"
He shrugged with a grin, "I tried."
Suddenly, his beeper buzzed. He glanced at the display and swore, "Damn, I've got to go."
I raised my glass in a mock salute, "Have fun."
He quickly dressed, pausing to gaze at me intently, "I'll see you tonight."
I smirked, "You know where I live."
The door's soft thud reverberated through the silence, and without hesitation, I made my way to the bedroom.
Unzipping a worn suitcase, I began to hurriedly fold and stuff clothes inside. This town, for all its shadows and memories, couldn't hold me any longer.
Yet, even in my haste, I bit my lip as he haunted my thoughts. I pictured the sun-kissed strands of his salt and pepper hair, threaded with strands of dark, and the soft light brown beard that framed his face.
Those captivating blue eyes seemed to peer into my very soul. The imposing stature of his physique, muscles honed from years of work, contrasted with the gentle curve of his jawline.
And that voice—deep, rumbling like a distant storm, but carrying a tenderness that made my heart warm. He was every dream I'd ever had about a man. But right now, dreams remained just that, as neither of us stood ready to tether our clouded hearts.
♡♡♡
Seated on the balcony, I lost myself in the soft glow of the moonlight, the melancholic notes of "Summertime Sadness" playing in the background as the clock nudged past nine.
Even though he had cautioned me, a fragment of hope lingered on the horizon.
My thoughts were abruptly interrupted by the chime of the doorbell. I leapt up and rushed to answer it.
But instead of Charlie, it was my mother who stood there.
"Expecting someone?" Her eyes critically roved over my laced black underwear covered by silk robe. Hastily, I pulled my robe tighter around me and stepped back inside.
"That's none of your concern," I retorted.
Her gaze landed on the suitcases near the sofa. Taking a seat, she remarked, "Planning on leaving so soon?"
"Yes, I've decided to return to New York."
She sniffed disdainfully.
"It's probably for the best. We don't need more gossip circulating in this town, especially the one of you sleeping around."
I smirked, "How incredibly small-minded of you."
Her face reddened.
"Watch your mouth!"
"Why should I?" I shot back, my voice rising.
"If you cared more about me than about public opinion, maybe I would've considered staying. Now, I'm seizing every chance to get away from you and this suffocating town."
Without hesitation, she raised her hand and struck my face. The sting of it amplified the bitterness catching up with all years of my escape from her toxicity.
"You've always been a mistake," she spat, and with that, she stormed out, leaving the door ajar.
A single tear streamed down my cheek as I touched the stinging side of my face. This pain wasn't new, but words often cut deeper than any physical wound.
As a child, I had loved her deeply, innocently rushing into her arms. But over time, her toxicity pushed me away.
I used to blame it on horoscope, that our stars were simply not aligned, but it was just a lack of love.
Her words were the sharpest blows, each syllable slicing into the fragile fabric of my mind. I was at my lowest.
She labeled me stupid, weak, and over time, she added 'fat' and 'ugly' to the list. It took an eternity for me to even begin to believe that I was enough.
I stood in front of the mirror countless times, contemplating an end, but the resilient spirit of the little girl within me urged me to keep pushing forward.
Over time I learned to embrace myself for who I was—the curves that most slender girls would envy, the full lips some paid to enhance, the green eyes coveted by many, and the cascading curls of ginger hair that others admired.
Every inch of me was uniquely me, and not even my mother's words could make me despise myself.
The greatest lesson she taught me was that a daughter should never have to plead for a mother's love, nor should she carry the burden of her mother's mistakes.
You cannot erase a child from your life, but you can distance yourself from a parent, despite the enduring pain. Yet, the bond weaves you back, attempting to mend what was never broken, striving to piece together fragments until the day arrives when you simply stop returning.
The door creaked open, it was Charlie, his doctor's scrubs hinting at a long day at the hospital. His eyes immediately met mine as I sank into a chair, hiding my face between my hands. He knelt before me; concern etched on his face.
"Stephanie, what happened?" The softness of his voice was a stark contrast to the tension in the room.
"My mom... Again."
His fingers gently tilted my chin, revealing a reddening imprint on my cheek. Without a word, he hurried to the kitchen, returning with a bag of frozen beans, which he pressed against the inflamed skin.
"I got used to it." I said holding bag of frozen beans with my palm.
"This isn't something you should 'get used to,' Steph."
I tried to pull away, but his grip was firm.
"It's just how she is, Charlie."
He sighed deeply.
"No child should ever feel like they're less in their mother's eyes. You deserve love, not this."
A weak smile tugged at my lips.
"That's why I need to leave, Charlie."
His eyes darted to the packed bags by the door.
"When?"
"Tonight."
Nodding, he squeezed my hand reassuringly.
"I'll take you."
After I packed a few last things, I switched off the apartment lights, sealing away the memories.
Outside, the gentle hum of Charlie's car awaited.
As I slid into the passenger seat, he simply turned the ignition, understanding filling the silence between us.
My voice held gratitude.
"Would you mind taking me to the train station?"
Charlie simply met my gaze, his silent affirmation clear.
The quiet between us was comfortable, almost comforting. Gently, he took my hand, bringing it to his lips for a brief kiss.
There are moments in life when the pursuit of personal happiness demands a bit of selfishness. Charlie seemed to understand that, even if it meant letting me go.
Before long, the bustling station came into view, the train to New York gleaming in the distance. As I stepped out of the car, we stood there for a moment, just inches apart.
He touched his lips to my forehead, the weight of his words evident.
"Promise me you'll stay safe."
Swallowing the emotions threatening to spill, I whispered, "Charlie..."
His melancholic smile showed through.
"What is it?"
"You... you deserve love. After the grueling hours, the late nights at the hospital, there should be someone waiting for you. Someone to hold you close."
A playful glint passed his eyes, "Someone like Mr. Black?"
Laughing softly, I reached up and pecked his cheek.
"You know what I mean."
With one last lingering look, I turned to board. But before I could get too far, I yelled back, "This isn't goodbye, Charlie Cloud!"
His smile widened, a twinkle shining in his eyes as he waved back.
Settling into my seat, I drew a deep, steadying breath. This was another goodbye, but not a final one. This was one of the times when I had to say goodbye knowing that when I came back, nothing would be the same. People often change their shells, but only few shapes into pearls over time. Charlie was not one of those people, eighter was I.
An elderly lady sat across from me, her wise eyes crinkling into a smile as she caught me staring.
"Running from or running to?" she asked, her voice filled with warmth.
"A bit of both, I suppose," I replied, a soft chuckle escaping my lips.
She nodded as if she knew the weight behind those words.
"You can't run from people you care about. They always find the way back."
"My heart might be too clouded for that." I said, my eyes reflecting my silent agreement.
As the conversation dwindled, the rhythmic sway of the train slowly lulled me into a light sleep.
The familiar cacophony of honking cars and distant conversations stirred me awake. Outside, towering skyscrapers reached for the heavens, and the city's pulse echoed with life. The iconic skyline of New York City greeted me—a vast canvas painted with lights, smoke, and loud honks.
Hailing a yellow cab, I gave the driver the address. As we meandered through the city streets, flashes of memories danced before my eyes. Finally, the cab pulled up in front of an old brick building, its worn-out facade speaking of years gone by.
I stepped out, the weight of bittersweet memories pressing on my shoulders as I looked up at Apartment 71. This place, with its echoing hallways and creaky floorboards, had witnessed the unfolding of my story. And now, I was back where it all began.
♡♡♡
With my belongings neatly arranged around the room, I cradled a steaming cup of coffee between my hands. The warmth seeped through, comforting and familiar. On my phone, my fingers hesitated for just a moment before typing out a simple text to my friend Dave:
ME: "Back in town. Stop by."
The distant notes of taxi horns played their familiar tune outside my window, a song of hustle and bustle that I'd grown accustomed to.
Yet, amid this city symphony, the apartment held an echoing stillness. The silence held the weight of peace, and I found my thoughts drifting to moments that were never meant to be.
I sipped my coffee, letting its warmth spread through me, a fleeting balm for the loneliness.
My thoughts wandered to Charlie, and an image of him working in hospital haunted my mind. I escaped before truly getting to know him, though he struck me as a good guy.
Then again, don't they all?
I often wondered what had become of my dreams of becoming a novelist. I poured my thoughts onto paper, never lacking in imagination but filling a void in love.
The absence of fatherly guidance left a noticeable gap, his presence more a concept than a reality. Yet, in contrast, my mother, inadvertently perhaps, molded me into everything she had hoped I wouldn't become—an independent woman capable of standing on my own.
My train of thought derailed with Emma's sudden entrance—a roommate, not always a friend. She returned from a night out, clad in a sequined dress, carrying the scent of vodka and cigarettes, her blonde hair swaying freely around her shoulders. Emma is a free spirit, a trait I admire, especially since it means she is rarely at home.
"OMG, Stephanie, you're back!" she exclaimed, drawing me into a warm embrace.
"Are you here for good this time?"
"Maybe," I replied, amusement tinting my voice, as we both knew this conversation was all too familiar.
"How was being home?" she asked, her eyes showing genuine concern.
"Well, I didn't actually stay at my parents' place. I got an apartment in that new building they put up two years ago. It's chic and modern, with a big balcony that overlooks the vineyards..."
"Wait a minute!" she cut in. "You're not planning to move out, are you?"
"Absolutely not, Emma. I just signed a one-year lease. I needed some space from my parents."
Her expression turned sympathetic.
"How bad was it this time?"
I sighed.
"My mom basically labeled me a mistake, and my dad conveniently left for another 'business trip' to Europe."
"Do you think he's cheating on her?"
"I wouldn't be surprised, but honestly, I've never really dwelled on it. It's just... she seems so unhappy, Emma. I find myself feeling more pity for her than resentment."
"Seriously? After everything she's done to you, she doesn't deserve your sympathy," she said, rolling her eyes.
"Anyway, now with two rents, I need another job," I said, grabbing a pillow from my bed.
She sighed.
"Oh, do you remember Xander?"
In my mind, I visualized a tall, slim guy from high school, constantly wearing sunglasses perched on his nose.
"He's working for some rich CEO in an import-export company. He mentioned that the CEO is looking for an assistant. I could check to see if the position is still available?"
I felt a warm rush of gratitude.
"That would be amazing."
A blush crept up her cheeks, painting them a soft pink.
"Oh, and there's something else... Xander and I, we're sort of 'a thing' now."
"Is he the one making you smile like that?"
Her face lit up with a beaming smile.
"Absolutely."
I pulled her into a tight hug, her joy proving to be contagious.
"Then I'm absolutely thrilled for you."
As we parted, the buzzing of my phone broke into our warm moment. I saw Dave's name flashing on the screen.
"Hey," I answered.
His voice came through, tinged with a slight tremble. "Are you still at home?"
"Yeah, what's going on?"
"Do you mind if I crash there for a few days?"
I briefly covered the mouthpiece and shared Dave's request with Emma. Her eyes sparkled with mischief. "He's welcome to stay, but only if he agrees to pay for our drinks this Saturday night."
I couldn't help but grin as I returned to the call. "You're in, but only if you're covering our tab on Saturday night."
Dave chuckled.
"Deal."
"See you soon," I concluded before ending the call. Turning back to Emma, I joked, "Let the games begin."
She burst into laughter.
"Good night," she said, leaving the room.
"But it's barely eight," I said.
"Time for a little nap," she replied, closing the door behind her.