My Father, Robert Pattinson

 I massaged my fingers through my hair and rolled over to look at the blonde who was laying on her stomach, naked, with a white sheet tangled in between her thighs. I had managed to do this again. Although it wasn’t the first time I had to do the walk of shame, I still felt equally as bad each time. Even though, each girl seemed to get it, they seemed to understand. And they could always say they slept with Robert Pattinson. 

I fumbled with the zipper of my jeans, swiped my discarded t-shirt off the floor, and went to the bathroom, turning the sink on with a simple pull.

It had been a year since Kristen and I had parted and I had been with so many damn women. Trying to find that passion, that love, that chemistry. 

With one night stands, apparently. I chuckled in disbelief, splashing cold water on my face. Then, there was a small high pitched moan. She was awake. Dammit. 

I dried my face with a towel off the sink and tossed it on the floor after I was through, peering out of the bathroom door.

Her eyes were opened, she was staring at the ceiling, and pulling the covers over her chest.

I couldn’t tell if she was sad it was over or if she was regretting everything she’d done with me the night before. 

She’d been undressing me with her eyes the entire night of the press junket. I’d watched her while I answered the questions the fans and press had asked me. All the same, of course. 

Would you ever do another movie with K-Stew?

Do you like the single life? 

What are the qualities you look for in a woman? 

Can you do your best sexy face? 

What’s the weirdest fan experience? 

You’d think they would know the answers to all of these questions by now. I’d been asked the same things over and over in various interviews. I answered them the same each time, despite the fact I wanted to reply to them all sarcastically. The answers were as followed. 

No.

No. 

Sex. 

I’m already doing it.

I once bit a baby on the head. 

I didn’t see her at the meet and greet after the junket was over, but when I got back to the hotel lounge, there she was, sitting at the bar with a beer in hand. 

“I’ll take a bud light please,” I said, waving off a bartender, who set a napkin and a bowl of nuts in front of me while I propped myself up on the bar stool. 

She glanced over at me the second she heard my voice and smirked delighted, as though she had been expecting me all night. Her eyes flickered across my face for a moment before she looked back at the bartender. 

Wait a minute. . .

Wasn’t she after me? This had intrigued me even more than I expected and I took a swig off my bud light. 

“Hello,” I’d said, after I put my beer down. 

She waited for a moment, then finally switched her gaze off the bartender and looked back at me, a sudden grin plastered on her soft features. She had blonde hair and grey eyes, her skin was smooth, and her nose was small. 

“Oh!” she’d replied, pretending to be surprised. “Well, look who it is.” 

I smirked shyly, running my thumb along the edge of my pale cheek. Suddenly, I had regretted the decision to speak with her. I’d never been good with fans or people in general. Animals, I could handle. People, however, tended to scare me. 

“Robert Pattinson,” she said, lowering her voice. 

I peered over my shoulder briefly, then wrapped my hand around my bud light and thrust it in the air. 

“In the flesh,” I responded quietly. 

“I was just at the press junket,” she explained, “I was on my way to the meet and greet, but it was just too packed. So, I came to drink my sorrows away and. . . here you are!” 

“Oh. Well I―” 

“Truth is, I came all the way to New York from Florida to see you.” she replied, cutting me off mid-sentence. I was taken aback. Not because she’d traveled to see me, but because of how confident she was. “Would a picture and an autograph be too much?” 

I shook my head. 

“Not at all,” 

“I’m Charlotte,” she said, after she pulled her tiny sliver camera from her purse. 

The picture and the autograph hadn’t been too much.

That was normal.

But several drinks later, something was happening, something that had happened to me several times before.

Something I wasn’t proud of that I let happen each time, but once we got so far, once we were nose to nose, once we were breathing each other in, and my hips were rubbing against theirs, I couldn’t stop. 

Charlotte. That was her name. I hadn’t caught her last name, but that didn’t matter. As I gazed at her, I noticed a softness, a softness I’d missed the night before. It was obvious that she was bracing herself for what was about to come. 

“Hey,” I told her. “I’m on my way to Madrid for another junket,”  

I swerved around the bed and went to next to her. She sat up against the headboard and twisted her hair into a knot on top of her head, the white sheet was covering her bare body. 

“I know,” Charlotte said. 

“Thank you for last night.” I replied, giving her a quick peck on the cheek. “Maybe I’ll see you again sometime.” 

This was something I said to all of the girls. Something that they learned was just a nice gesture, but a gesture, nonetheless, and made them feel as though maybe, just maybe, they were a little important after all.

The walk of shame was never an easy walk, it was always a walk filled with guilt and sadness. There had been a time where I wasn’t a total dick. But that time, was no more.