Shifting Gears || cl16/ln4

Gear Twenty

At the bar

My heart skipped a beat as I turned around abruptly, only to find Charles standing right behind me. Confusion, shock, and frustration surged within me — what the fuck is he doing? My anger, a boiling undercurrent, threatened to boil over. Before I could confront him about his unexpected presence, a voice interjected, disrupting the charged atmosphere.

"Who even are you?" the stranger inquired, his eyes narrowing in on Charles. His question mirrored the bewildered thoughts racing through my mind, demanding an explanation for Charles' sudden appearance.

Charles, however, responded with a chuckle, a calculated casualness that heightened my frustration. In a bold move, he wrapped his hand around my waist, his touch both possessive and infuriating. Meeting the stranger's gaze with cold eyes, he delivered a warning laced with an unmistakable edge.

"Someone you don't want to mess with. Leave. Now."

The stranger, recognizing an unspoken challenge in Charles' attitude, shook his head in reluctant acknowledgment. In the face of the tension that hung thick in the air, he chose the path of discretion and left the scene, leaving me standing there with a whirlwind of emotions.

The encounter left lingering questions in its wake, and as the stranger retreated, the club's atmosphere returned to its vibrant chaos. Charles' unexpected presence and the protective stance he assumed raised more questions than answers, adding a layer of complexity to the already tangled dynamics at play.

The stranger's departure left an uneasy silence between Charles and me, his hand still lingering on my waist. I pulled away, a cold determination settling over me as I met his gaze with a glare that conveyed both anger and confusion.

"What the hell are you doing, Leclerc!?" I demanded, my voice sharp and cutting through the ambient noise of the club. The frustration that had been simmering within me boiled over, fueled by the intrusion of his presence and the mysterious tension that now hung between us.

Charles, however, seemed unfazed by my anger. He maintained a composed exterior, his expression betraying little emotion. "I thought I'd drop by and see how the festivities were going," he replied casually, a smirk playing on his lips.

I scoffed at his calm response, the bitterness of our complicated history adding an edge to my words. "Don't play games, Leclerc. What was that back there?" I gestured towards the spot where the stranger had stood, my anger demanding an explanation.

He leaned in slightly, his tone dropping to a whisper laced with subtle arrogance. "Just keeping unwanted company away, DeVille. You should be thanking me." His words only fueled my anger further, the implication that he could control my interactions stoking the flames of resentment.

I took a step back, crossing my arms defensively. "I don't need your protection, Charles. And I certainly didn't ask for it. Stay out of my business." The confrontation lingered in the charged air between us, leaving an unspoken challenge that hinted at the unresolved tensions boiling beneath the surface.

His sudden grip on my arm took me by surprise, pulling me forcefully closer to him until our faces were mere inches apart. The intensity in his eyes matched the closeness, and for a moment, the world around us seemed to fade away, leaving only the charged air between us.

"That guy you talked to, he is a dick. Every person can smell that from a mile away," Charles declared, his voice a low murmur that carried both assertion and a trace of something more complex. His proximity and the gravity in his words created a tension that hung in the air, leaving me torn between frustration and an unexpected awareness of his presence.

"Oh yeah? And you aren't?" I shot back, maintaining the close proximity between us with a defiant edge in my tone. The charged atmosphere intensified, the unspoken tension crackling between Charles and me like an electric current.