𝐝𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐮𝐢𝐬𝐡𝐞𝐝 | 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐞 𝐝𝐚𝐥𝐭𝐨𝐧

𝚌𝚑𝚊𝚙𝚝𝚎𝚛 𝚎𝚕𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚗

It was Friday. My breath fogged up the glass as I stared out the window, waiting for sundown. Maybe Charlie Dalton was wrong about everything. Maybe I would be the reason his life would be torn—but could a single person do that? Could a single person really reach out and grab you by the neck of your collar until you choke on your words to please be careful. Please.

My poetry was getting in my head, writing songs that danced around in circles. All over a boy. All over a boy I barely knew. Oh, but I knew him? Inside and out. The ticking of the clock was loud in my ears until I finally left the room, silencing it with the slam of the door.

"Y/n?" I heard my mom call to me, and I stopped in the doorway. "Honey? You alright up there?"

"Yeah, sorry!" I called back, placing blame on Charlie yet again. He was in my head. I went into the kitchen where she was busy playing a crossword game. "Mom, I'm going out." I didn't ask. It was for certain.

"This late?" She took off her reading glasses, holding them daintily in her left hand—her pen in the other. I glanced to it, wondering what words she could write with it. "You're not going back to that study-"

"No. Carla and I, uh..." I was so bad at lying, continuously switching my balance from one foot to the other. "We were going bowling with Serena and some other girls." I tried to smile, but she knew something was up.

"Will that boy be there?" I played dumb, asking her to come again. "Dalton, was it? Charlie Dalton?"

"No ma, 'course not." I shook my head. "I'll be back earlier. I'm not sure what time because we may see a movie after."

My mother eyed me up and down. "Alright, but if we get another call from Welton, you will never be able to go out at night. Understood?"

"Yes. Perfectly." I could already feel the guilt boiling deep inside me. I hated lying, but what did she know about Charlie? He wasn't that bad of a kid. I quickly left with my backpack and some loose change.

I hurried down the path, knowing I was going to be late. I saw a figure at the edge of the wood, waiting. A flashlight turned on and off, on and off, on and off. "Welcome home, l/n." Of course it was Charlie. He shown the light in my eyes, causing me to stumble back a bit. "Sorry, sorry."

"Sorry I'm late." I chuckled. Our hands brushed against one another as he turned to walk with me to the cave. I felt his finger intentionally brush against mine again.

"It's alright." Charlie paused, bringing his hand back up to adjust his coat. "I knew you'd make it."

"Carpe diem." I replied.

"Carpe diem." He succeeded.

The cave was freezing, and I huddled up in my coat the best I could. Neil started off the meeting. He was always so good at entrancing us with the way he spoke that for a moment, I wasn't shivering like my life depended on it.

Charlie must've noticed I was cold because he took off his coat and handed it to me. I shook my head, smiling. "No, you need that." I said awkwardly, pushing it away.

"I'm not the one shivering like a wet dog." The boys laughed at his analogy. "Quit worrying about me, y/n."

I took his coat, rolling my eyes sarcastically. "Thanks." I hated how he could practically read my mind. How did he know me in and out?

"You're welcome." He sat next to me. "Now, read."

"Me? I don't want to go first." The boys all were watching quietly. I glanced to each and every one of them. Meeks shrugged at me. "Fuck you guys." I laughed and stood up, my poetry in my hand.