Love in the Dark

Chapter Twenty: Unspoken Desires

Carlos stepped out into the dim alley behind the club, his eyes locking onto Charlese and Reginald standing a few feet away, deep in conversation. His heart was racing, and though he hadn't planned on interrupting, the moment pushed him to act.

"Charlese," he called out, his voice louder than intended, carrying through the cool night air.

Both Charlese and Reginald flinched at the sound, turning toward him, startled. Charlese's eyes widened in surprise while Reginald blinked, caught off guard by Carlos's sudden presence. There was a beat of silence, thick with tension, as Carlos stood there, his expression unreadable.

Reginald was the first to break the silence. "Carlos," he greeted, his voice friendly but uncertain, clearly sensing something beneath the surface.

Carlos, feeling the awkwardness settling between them, took a step forward, his gaze moving from Reginald to Charlese. Without a word, he reached out, his hand brushing Charlese's arm before gently, but unmistakably, pulling her toward his side. The movement was subtle, yet it spoke volumes—Carlos was staking a quiet claim, asserting his presence in a way that couldn't be ignored.

"I need a moment with her," Carlos said, his voice steady but with an underlying intensity that even surprised him. He wasn't asking—he was telling.

Reginald, who had noticed the shift in Carlos's demeanor, sighed lightly, sensing the growing tension. He offered Carlos a brief, knowing smile before turning his attention back to Charlese. "I'll be waiting for you inside," Reginald said, his tone gentle as he smiled at her. His gaze lingered on her for a moment, and then he gave Carlos a small nod before slipping past them, heading back toward the entrance of the club.

Charlese watched Reginald walk away, her brow furrowing in confusion as she turned back to Carlos, clearly unsure of what had just happened. The air between them was thick with unspoken words, the quiet pull of everything they hadn't said suddenly weighing heavily in the cool night.

Charlese, still bewildered by the sudden interruption, turned to face Carlos fully. "What's going on?" she asked, her voice laced with confusion as she searched his eyes for answers.

Carlos blinked, caught off guard by the question. He hadn't planned on what he'd say after pulling her away from Reginald. In truth, he wasn't sure why he'd felt the need to step in so urgently. His mind raced for something to explain the situation, but all he could manage was the one thought that had been lingering since the moment he saw her.

"You look... really beautiful," he finally said, the words slipping out softly, more vulnerable than he intended.

Charlese's eyes widened slightly, taken aback by the compliment. Her cheeks flushed a soft shade of red, and she glanced down, suddenly very aware of the fact that his hand was still gripping her arm. She didn't pull away, though, almost as if she hadn't realized it until now.

"Thank you," she murmured, her voice quieter, and she bit her lip, flustered by the moment. Her eyes flickered to where his hand still rested, and a small smile played at the corners of her lips, almost shy.

There was a beat of silence, the noise of the club and the city seeming to fade as the tension between them thickened.

Charlese looked back up at him, meeting his gaze again. "Is that what you wanted to tell me?" she asked softly, her tone holding a curious edge. She wasn't pushing, but there was a part of her—one that had been buried deep for a while—hoping there was more he wanted to say. Something that explained the way he had pulled her away from Reginald so suddenly, the lingering looks, and the subtle tension between them that had been building for some time.

Carlos blinked, her question making his heart skip a beat. For a moment, he forgot how to speak. He hadn't planned on this—on any of it. His mind raced, but the truth sat heavy on his chest: he hadn't wanted her with Reginald. Not like that. Not so close, not so happy. He had felt it tug at something inside him, something he didn't want to acknowledge.