Charlie's Angel

39

   "You were talking to–" My eyes glossed over. "–another girl."
  
He nodded, walked past me into the kitchen. "Yes, Charlie. I was talking to another girl. I can do that now that I don't have a girlfriend."
  
I watched him.
  
"Why, Chris?"
  
"Damn! I don't wanna talk to you! I told you not to come, but your stubborn ass ain't listen to me. It ain't my fault that you heard that!" He grabbed a water bottle from his fridge and yanked the cap off. Drinking it angrily, his jaw clenched as he swallowed.
 
"Chris, you need to talk to me," I mumbled pathetically. "Do I mean nothing to you?"
  
He scoffed. "Does my trust mean nothing to you, Charlie?!" Well, that was one way to flip it back on me, and I couldn't blame him for that.
  
This was my fault, I mean really.
 
"Chris, I–" He walked away from me, leaving me in the kitchen to drown in my guilt. "I don't know what to say."
  
He scoffed again, "There's nothing to say. You should leave; I said I don't want you here."

   "No." He looked up at me in shock; I made my way over to his couch and sat down, crossing both my arms and my legs. "I'm not leaving until you talk to me. Please."

   "I have nothing to say to your ass," he mumbled through clenched teeth. "I will carry you out of my house."

   "Chris, please," I murmured. "I'll do anything."
 
"Damn it, Charlie!" He lunged for me and grabbed my arms. I panicked and screamed, only for him to grunt in response. Then he tossed me onto his shoulder and that was the most excruciating thing that I have ever experienced.

   "Chris!" I cried out, yelping loudly. "Shit, please put me down!"
  
He quickly put me back down and looked at me uneasily as I gripped my side in agony and breathed harshly. My breath got knocked outta me and I choked, reaching up to wipe my forehead with a trembling hand.
  
"What's wrong with you?" he asked so quietly that I almost didn't hear him.

  "I'm, um, cramping," I stammered. I avoided his eyes and rubbed my sore spot gently.

   "Cut the bullshit, Charlie," he gritted out. "What's wrong with you? Lift up your shirt and lemme see."
  
His whole demeanor changed; it went from hard and demanding to soft and pleading. His facial muscles in his jaw relaxed and his wrinkles in his forehead disappeared. I almost wanted to pass out at how soft his eyes grew, almost encouraging me to let him see.

   "Chris," I breathed, "I'm fine. Can you just get me some water?"

  "I'll get you some water but you have to lift up your shirt," he bargained. He walked off to the fridge and came back with an ice cold water bottle. "Now lemme see."
  
I took a sip of the water and capped it, setting it aside and grabbing the bottom of my shirt. As I pulled it up slowly, I closed my eyes so I wouldn't have to look in his. I felt him tense up and could feel his anger boiling below his surface. When I finally did look up at him, his jaw was clenched and his hands were shaking as they were balled up into tight fists. The veins in his arms and the thick one in his forehead pulsed angrily. "Who did that to you?"
  
There was no point in lying for two reasons. Lying to him had gotten us here in the first place, and because he was clearly not in the mood to be lied to.
  
He was still lowkey sexy when he was angry. "I went to get Paris a few days ago and Aaron–"
  
He grabbed my hand and bolted down the stairs. He didn't even bother to lock his front door, but opted to force open his passenger car door and glare at me. "Get in the gotdamn car."
  
Without a word, I did as I was asked and buckled myself up as he got in and did the same. He began panting quietly as he started his car and backed out of the driveway. The tension only increased when he parked in the front of Aaron's apartment building and he rubbed a hand over his face.
  
"Charlie, come with me," he muttered sternly, not waiting for my complaints.
Chris
   This was the last fucking straw. Charlie wasn't my girl anymore but I still cared about her deeply. So why wouldn't I be fucking angry that he hurt her again? It's been a damn year since they divorced and he was still a salty bitch that she had moved on to someone better–much better–than him. So now he had to result to violence?
 
Nigga got a death wish.
  
I'll admit that I should have gone about this with a level head. Things might have gone so much better. But I was stubborn and wasn't listening to the voices in my head. The only thing on my mind was to fucking kill this nigga–or at least beat his ass.
  
Charlie led me to his door and was gonna wait for me to knock. Fuck that. I slammed my fist into it multiple times and got no answer.
  
My solution? I kicked that motherfucker in. My adrenaline was raging in my blood and I could feel myself transforming into some supernatural being ready to kill any and every motherfucker who stood in my way.
  
In this case, it was Aaron.
  
There was a gasp that came from my right, from Charlie, but not from me kicking in the door. From what sat in front of us. Aaron was sitting on his black leather couch, but there was a girl–or woman–straddling his lap and kissing him. In front of them, on the floor, was a toddler playing with a teething ring. When I crashed through the door, they both jumped up and gasped out in surprise.
  
Bullshit.

  "Aaron?!" Charlie cried, causing the both of them to quickly cover themselves.

  "Who the hell are you?" the girl scoffed, clearly irritated that we interrupted their little fuck session. I really didn't have time to deal with this shit.

  "I–I'm Charlie," she piped pathetically. Her eyes dropped to the floor.