Torn

Chapter Thirteen

**DEDICATED TO ALL MY OUTSPOKEN AND QUIET FANS! YOU GUYS ARE AWESOME!**

**Mild Language and Not Edited**

Dean POV

My heart stopped at her appearance. I wasn't lying, I did like my girls dressed up and damn, she was gorgeous but she looked so uncomfortable in her makeup and dress that I almost wished I had told her to dress casual. She pulled off sweats well, like a goddess in her own right. She blew out a sigh and played with the front of her dress, bunching up the fabric and twisting it.

“Let's get this over with” she said, walking over to my car.

“I love the attitude you have for our date” I told her casually, opening her door for her. She eyed me for a minute.

“Thanks” she muttered, getting in the car. I whistled as I went over to my side of the car. I started it up and ask her the question that's been burning in my mind.

“So. Who was that guy?” I ask her, trying to disguise the fact that I was desperate to know. She ran a hand through her hair.

“Are we really going to have this conversation?” she asks.

“Yes” there's no way I'm going to let her avoid this.

“He's my childhood bestfriend. Mason” her answer was curt. My mouth thinned out to a mere line. We were stopped at a red light, the light making Charlotte's pale skin look pink.

“Mason? Is he gay?” I ask her. I wasn't stupid. I knew that she has no experience in dressing up and putting on makeup. I pegged her as a tomboy as soon as I saw her. A lonely tomboy. From what I could piece together from the other pack members, Charlotte had been an outcast because of Cindy. I doubted she had any friends other than that Mason guy. A surprised laugh burst out from her. The sound is so beautiful that I can't help but relax into my seat and enjoy the sound.

“Oh hell no. Mason is a player” she sounded less than thrilled with that. My eyes narrowed

“If he's such a player than who helped you dress?” I asked her. Her cheeks turned pink.

“Who says I can't dress myself?” she said, pretending to be mad.

“Don't insult me. I've had you pegged as a tomboy from the minute we met. Tomboys do not have skill with makeup and dressing” I said, slightly pissed off at her reluctance to share.

“He helped because we've been friends for a very long time and we would do anything for each other” she said, rubbing her forehead. My teeth ground together.

“Anything?” I tried not to show any emotion. By her expression, I could safely say that I reached my goal.

“Yep. Including doing my makeup and helping me find a dress. He is the ultimate bestfriend” her voice was soaked through with an emotion I refused to acknowledge.

We pulled up at a restaurant a little out of town. I wanted to treat her to the best, even if she didn't exactly go on this date willingly. I pulled out her chair for her. She murmured a thanks and sat down. I took my place across from her.

“Have you been here before?” I asked her. This was her town after all. She shook her head and played with her napkin.

“No. I don't like to go out much” her reply made me frown.

“Why don't you like to go out?” it boggled my mind. She was so beautiful and charming.

“Art used to take up a lot of my time. Besides, I don't like to dress in anything other than my favorite sweats” she said.