I'm Not Charlotte Lucas(20)

“Whose room was that?”

“It’s kind of my apartment,” I said. “Just for now, while I figure things out.”

Which was code for—I’m an adult who’s living like a teenager in her parents’ attic and calling it an apartment to make it sound better.

Lifting my shoes by the straps, I hovered in the doorway. Any romance that lingered after we’d left the ball was gone now, and a simple camaraderie sat between us. Maybe he would slap me on the back like a bro and leave.

Except that this small part of me didn’t want him to go yet. We had no reason to see one another again after he left, and the idea of saying goodbye now left me somewhat forlorn.

Which, even I had to admit, was slightly ridiculous. I’d felt this sort of one-sided chemistry all evening, and Liam had done nothing to indicate that he was even remotely available or interested in me. He was nice, even somewhat flirtatious. But nothing he said or did gave me a foundation to believe that my childish crush was reciprocated.

I stood in my doorway, somewhat pathetically waiting for a romantic farewell when the man probably just wanted to be rid of his extra mauve appendage of the evening.

Liam leaned forward, and my heart raced. He was doing it, he was coming toward me, his gaze locked on mine, his lips parting just so.

This man was about to kiss me.

Heart pounding, I lifted my face, allowing my eyelids to drift closed in anticipation when Liam’s soft lips made contact, and he kissed me . . . on the cheek.

“Goodnight, Charlie.”

My eyes shot open and caught him smiling grimly. Oh. My. Goodness. He could tell that I thought he was about to kiss me on the lips. Utter mortification washed through me, and I stepped back into the shadows of the house.

“Good night,” I called faintly, grateful he couldn’t see how furiously I was blushing. I was certain my face had never gone so hot before in my life.

I watched him walk away, the coat of his tux hanging loosely over his arm, before I escaped inside and bolted the door behind me, leaning against it and dropping my head into my hands.

I guess I only had myself to blame. Why hadn’t I left my eyes open? I should have waited for the contact to close them in delighted bliss—for I was positive that’s what kissing Liam would have been. No one exuded that much raw magnetism without having a kiss to match.

And I would never experience such a thing because I would never see Liam Connell again. At least, not if I could help it.

***

The world of the living called to me, pulling me from the depths of the deepest, sweetest sleep I’d had in a while. Literally. My date from the charity ball had made an appearance, only we hadn’t been at the ball. My dream took place entirely in Paris, with us eating chocolate at the top of the Eiffel Tower. Chemistry went both ways in my sleep, and Dream Liam had reciprocated every move I made, clear up until I fed him a chocolate, and he started leaning toward me, the glittering lights of Paris below and around us as his gaze fixed on my lips and—

My mom woke me up.

“Charlie! Get up!”

Wasn’t your mom supposed to stop waking you up in the morning once you left high school? And on a Saturday, no less. Groaning, I rolled over and shoved my face deep into my pillow. Maybe if I went back to sleep right now, Dream Liam would pick up right where he’d left off.

“Charlie!”

I really needed to find my own place again. This situation was only meant to be temporary originally, but then I’d grown complacent, comfortable. Besides, I was helping out so much around the house that it was just easier to be around.

“I’m up,” I called.

Shoving my fluffy down comforter back, I sat up, blinking at the clock. Wasn’t there somewhere I was supposed to be today?

Andy.

I fell back on my bed, covering my face with my hands. Why had I agreed to go out with a guy who’d stood me up time and again, who constantly made me wait for him, who never valued me? At the time, I was glad I had broken things off. But then in the parking lot, his desire was plain, and I was so weak. Or maybe just starved for affection and attention.

But who didn’t love the feeling of being admired, desired, wanted? Part of me had fleetingly hoped that maybe the chemistry between Liam and me would develop into something a little more. I’d never felt anything so palpable in my entire life. But no. Any affection there was destined to belong to Dream Liam alone.

“You know,” Mom said from my doorway, startling me, “Vera was expecting you ten minutes ago.”

Shoot! It wasn’t Andy’s date I was trying to remember; it was planting Vera’s tulips. I stood up, running to the bathroom to splash cold water on my face, and stared at the horror in the mirror. My hair was sort of crunchy from leftover hairspray and had somehow grown in volume. I’d taken out the pins last night and washed my face before falling into bed but hadn’t bothered doing anything else, and now I looked like a full-on lioness. Grabbing a scrunchy from the drawer, I threw my hair into a messy bun and brushed my teeth while my mom walked around my attic, straightening up.

I tried not to think about the piles of laundry Liam had probably dodged or the empty cans of Diet Coke he’d had to move out of the windowsill in order to climb in. I surveyed the room from an outsider’s perspective, and my cheeks warmed. Well, so what if I was kind of a slob? I had too many other things on my plate to worry about folding laundry and putting it away.