Dangerous [Bradley Simpson] Sequel to On the Floor (novella)

Chapter Six - Sin

I stayed locked in my room all day, looking for any connection I could find to Alfie Coolwater. I knew the name. His face was in my mind, but each time I tried to concentrate on it, I would only see a blacked out image.

I didn't move away from the laptop until tiredness began to creep up behind my lids, begging for a caffeine boost. It was already midnight, and when I crept into the kitchen to get coffee, Connor greeted me on the couch.

"What are you doing here?" I asked.

"James had to do promo stuff in Paris this weekend, so I'm staying with you."

"He left without telling me?" I said.

He shrugged.

"In the middle of the night? I questioned.

"He left a few hours ago, actually." He noted.

"Oh," I mumbled. "He still could have told me.

"Any luck on Alfie?" He asked, changing the subject.

"Not yet," I answered. I opened my mouth to speak again, but I was cut off by the door clicking open, and a brummie accent floating through the air.

"Sorry it's late," he called. "I think I left my phone charger here—."

The second he rounded the corner and his eyes landed on me, we both froze. He was taller, or maybe I got shorter. He had a five o' clock shadow that I wasn't sure if it belonged there or not, but it made him look older, along with his droopy eyes and lips so thin it looked as though he hadn't been kissed in years.

"Charlotte?" He said softly, as if too much sound would crack the time continuum.

I looked down, not sure whether I should smile or cry. "You still recognize me?"

"I'll never forget your face," he murmured. "I've spent countless nights watching you sleep. Even six years later, I remember every crevice.

No one spoke, and in the silence, Connor took his opportunity to leave us alone.

"What happened, Charlotte?" Brad finally spoke. He was the only one I couldn't bring myself to correct. Even though the name was still poison, it sounded too heavenly rolling off his tongue for me to make him stop.

I couldn't find any words that were good enough for him, so I remained silent, blinking back the tears that evaded my eyes.

"Please talk to me," he whispered. "All I've wanted for six years is to hear your voice again."

I looked up at him, and within an instant the tears I could hold back no longer began to stain my cheeks. "I'm s-so sorry."

"Why did you leave me?" He tried moving forward to grab me, but I stepped back. I knew that one touch was all I needed to completely lose it.

"I didn't want to." I was choking back sobs. "I just d-did. What I n-needed to keep you s-safe."

"Safe?" He looked at me pleadingly. "From what?"

"From me," I whimpered. "From her."

"Charlotte, I don't understand."

And so, in between broken sobs and heartbreaking silences, I relived the worst years of my life for the first time. With every gruesome detail, I saw his body twitch, and I even saw his eyes gloss over with tears. I told him how the only thing still keeping me a live were the thoughts of him, and I told him how I had chastised myself for him; because really, he was the only thing I needed. He was the only thing I craved.