The Good Ones Go

Chelsea lets out a throaty groan at the painful sound of her alarm ringing from somewhere in the room. She turns under the white silk sheets, and her eyes flutter open searching for the source of the sound. She throws the covers off in attempt to get up, but Charlie's arm extending across her naked body, and she freezes instinctively. She feels the springs of the mattress adjust under them as he pulls his warm, heavy body over, and she holds her breath when he leans over her, stretching his muscular arm across her bare chest, to grab her purse from the floor. Her eyes watch as his fingers wrestle with the buckle until they pull out the blaring black iPhone to silence it before reaching up to place it on the bedside table. Upon realizing that he wouldn’t be moving any time soon, Chelsea lets out the breath she’s been holding before glancing his way.

Charles looks up, smiling shyly when his blue eyes meet Chelsea's. The makeup she neglected to take off last night is smudged beneath her lids, but she's still breathtaking as she lies there completely naked under him. He looks away for a moment to leave a kiss on her breast, smirking with gratification at the goosebumps that pop up along her pale skin and leave her nipples hard.

"Good morning," his accent is thick, and his voice is even deeper than she thought it could go. She feels herself gulp at the sight of him hanging onto her. What the fuck did she do? This is a mistake. How could she lead him on? When did she turn into this terrible person? She can feel herself groan in annoyance within her mind, but that voice pulls her back to reality.

"Did you sleep okay?" Charlie asks as he stretches his long toned body before laying his arm back across her and cradling her waist.

Chelsea turns to look at the alarm clock to the right. The bright red LED lights read 9:03, and she brings her hand up to cover the morning breath of her yawn. "Like a fucking baby," her answer is muffled as she redirects her attention to the sheets, trying to kick them up to cover herself.

Charlie smiles into the skin of her chest before stretching his arm to help cover her up. He watches Chelsea's eyelashes flutter toward him, and though she smiles back at him, he can tell that something's wrong. Uncomfortable with his realization, he pulls his arm back and settles next to her without any contact. "I'm sorry," he tells her, clearing his throat.

Chelsea's brows furrow as she turns to her side to look at him. "What?" She asks in surprise.

"Last night. You weren't thinking. You were emotional. I took advantage of that, and I'm sorry," he tells her with a hard gulp. He pulls the silk sheets up farther to hide as much of his naked body as possible, feeling embarrassed. She told him this wouldn't work once - he should've respected that.

Her hazel eyes search his face, desperately looking for a clue for what to say. He's right. She wasn't thinking last night, and neither was he. Still, no one has ever apologized to her like this, and she's never felt so guilty for taking advantage of such a well-mannered man before. "Charlie, please," she sounds desperate because the words leave her mouth like a thick peanut butter, choking her as she speaks.

Charlie's hand flies up to her face, and his thumb wastes no time stroking her flushed cheek. "I like you, Chelsea Lisle. I shouldn't have taken advantage of you when you were so vulnerable," his words are sincere as he stares at her, hoping this won't get awkward.

"In your defense, I'm pretty irresistible," she giggles, nibbling on her bottom lip as she tries to break the tension.

"That you are," he admits to her, cracking a small smile at her attempt to lighten the mood.

"Besides," she starts as she places her own hand on his, "I'm the one that took advantage of you."

"Oh really?" Charles raises a brow waiting for her explanation.

"I know you like me. I like you too, but I already told you this can't go anywhere, and I still led you on. I just got carried away. It was selfish - I admit it. It's been a while since I've done that, and you're hard to resist yourself," she confesses. The guilt creeps up into her bones as she thinks of Travis, and it seeps into her heart as she considers where they go from here.

"Plenty of friends have seen each other naked," he tries to comfort her. "I promise not to read into it, okay? What happened, happened. We can linger on it or move on, and as much as I'd like more of it in the future, I think I can settle for friends," the smile he gives her is faint but confident. He's being honest. She's as beautiful and real as he's imagined her to be, but he won't force it. His one job here is to support her, and he'd carry through with that no matter what happens when they come home.

Chelsea groans as her hands move up to rub her eyes. "Charlie, you're too perfect," she's almost upset with herself that her heart won't let her give this a shot.

"Grew up with five sisters. I've beaten up enough jerks to know how to treat a lady," he grins up at her as he sits himself up in the bed, making sure to leave enough sheet behind to keep her covered.

Chelsea admires the muscles in his back before her eyes trace the remnants of the small scratches that still adorn his skin. Flashbacks of the night flood her vision, and she shivers because she can almost feel him inside her again.

"You okay?" Charles notices the tremble in her legs and looks back, raising his brows in concern.

Chelsea nods. "I scratched up your back," she states, feeling her cheeks get warm.

"I'm not complaining," he grins, forcing himself to turn back around because another moment of eye contact could take this in another direction again.

Chelsea sits up, allowing the sheet to leave her figure. She can feel Charlie's hot gaze on her torso, and she looks over to flash him a smile before asking, "what?"

"I said I'd settle for friends, but if you intend to hang around me looking like that, well, I'm only a man," he's shy as he admits his attraction, running his hand along the back of his neck nervously.

Chelsea lets out a hearty laugh before her gaze settles on his again. His blue eyes almost leave her breathless, and she finds herself instinctively inching towards him. Her lips are almost touching his, and she finds herself involuntarily suggesting, "well, sex could just be sex?"

Charles hesitates for a moment, but when he feels her lips on his all those morals and values seem to fly out the window because he's back on top of her. As much as he wants to stop his hands from wandering, he can't because his cock is throbbing, and it's already inside of her eager to hear her scream his name again.



"Look, if you're not ready I can just go up there alone," Charlie suggests wearily with a hand on her jean-clad thigh. His eyes flutter across her face, rouge from nerves, before they settle on the massive structure, which she says is her ex’s house, behind them.

Chelsea lets out a sigh. She can feel Charlie’s eyes on her, but her own gaze is locked on her dream home as she sits in a rented Camry with a co-worker she barely knows behind the wheel. Whatever mid-life crisis she’s having, she needs to wake up from it. "No, that wouldn't be right. I have to do this," she's trying to convince herself to gather up some courage and go ring the doorbell.

"At least let me come in with you," he offers, giving her leg a little squeeze. He watches her intently, and when she nods without looking his way, he reaches to cut the ignition. "Now or never then," he tells hers, opening his door and walking around to open hers.

Chelsea takes a deep breath before stepping forward. The few seconds they wait at the door seem like an eternity, and Chelsea is finding herself wanting to turn around and run. Then, when the door opens, her breath hitches in her throat. "Adam," she manages in a hoarse voice, her eyes scattering across his unhappy face.

"You had to bring him?" That's all Adam can bring himself to say. There is an indescribable anger in his eyes that seems to grow as he gives his wife’s friend a once-over. After all this time, how dare she show up at his front door - their front door - with another man?

"Can we come in?" Charles asks after a moment of silence. Chelsea has frozen, and it's his job to facilitate this. He watches Adam let out a reluctant sigh before taking a step back, and he puts his hand on the small of Chelsea's back, guiding her in first.

It’s almost robotic, the way she walks in and kicks her heels off. She can’t seem to think straight. Her brain is in a fog, and she’s on auto-pilot, moving through the familiar home without failing to notice the soft smell of a vanilla candle burning in the background.

Charlie listens to her bare feet pitter patter across the hardwood as he follows her into the kitchen. There is a man standing there, and he notices her stop in her tracks at the sight of him. "Travis," is a whisper that leaves her lips, and Charlie can't help but feel nauseous at the way she says it. He takes another step, allowing him to look at her face, and he can feel his heart drop into his stomach at her expression. This is him. The man she's in love with. This is her best friend. Her husband's best man. He's standing in her old kitchen making her knees weak, and suddenly Charles is regretting giving into her this morning too.

Charlie clears his throat, bringing Chelsea back into the moment. She turns to look at him when she feels the familiar hand on her elbow. "Remember what we're here for," he tells her, and her heart breaks a little because she can hear the regret in his tone. One fucking look at her, and he knows. How does everyone else know her better than she knows herself? She gives him a nod and averts her gaze toward Adam. Just as she finds the courage and takes a breath, Charlie's voice asking for the restroom reverberates through the kitchen, and she feels herself diminish as she watches him walk away.

"Couldn't be with Richie so you find an exact replica on steroids?" Travis' voice is a sneer from across the counter, and it makes her gulp. He’s trying to hurt her, and she knows it.

"Trav," Adam says like a warning as he eyes his friend. Travis rolls his eyes at Adam’s tone, taking a sip of his beer before placing the bottle back on the counter.

"I don't remember you being such an asshole, but I guess a lot changes when you don't talk to someone for almost a year, huh?" Chelsea takes a jab at the man fiddling with his nose ring nervously.

"Fuck off, Chelsea. At least I'm not pretending," he's not going to let her insult him like she's any better. This is just as much her fault as it is his.

"I'd shut the fuck up if I were you because you've been pretending a whole lot," Adam steps in. His tone is bitter, but he tames the anger. He's done dragging this out. The sooner it's done, the better.

Chelsea is taken aback by his words. Last night he was the one taking jabs at her, and now he's defending her from Travis, and she's not sure how to feel. "Adam," she starts, trying to ignore the man across the counter. "You know why I'm here," she's right to the point.

Adam looks toward his friend, his face telling him to give them some privacy. Travis reluctantly complies, scooping his Heineken up and leaving the room. Watching him walk out the corridor, Adam directs his attention back to his wife. "You really want me to sign the divorce papers?" It’s the first time he's saying it out loud, and it feels worse than he imagined it would.

"Please," she says. Adam is silent for a moment, and Chelsea takes a step toward him. With a sigh she says, "look, I know the way we left things is pretty fucked up. I swear I didn't mean to hurt you, Adam. I did love you. I do love you, I just, I can't do this." She has to stop to breath because she's feeling lightheaded, and when he says nothing she continues. "I don't know what I thought I was doing. I never thought of Travis as more than Travis until, well, until he kissed me, and now I can't lie to myself, to you, and say that there's nothing there. You deserve better, Adam. You deserve someone that's all in," she's sorry, and she hopes he can hear it in her voice.

Adam nods at her words. "I know. I'm sorry. We were good, and I don't know where we went wrong. If I paid more attention, maybe it could've all been avoided, but here we are: I'm in love with you, and you're in love with him. Looks like neither of us get to have what we want," he quiets for a moment until his eyes flash toward the entryway. "But at least you've got a consolation prize," the bitterness creeps back into his voice as he watches Charles walk back in.

"Adam, come on," she's disappointed in him, reaching instinctively for Charlie's hand. She needs someone. She needs him. Charles is the closest thing she has to the blue-eyed rock that once guided her, and she’s going to hold on this time.

"I know," he looks down to his feet for a moment before his brown eyes settle on the hands in front of him. "It's still a little fresh," he admits, trying to quiet the heart that's beating out of his chest. "The last time I saw you, you were my wife, and now, well," he nods at their interlocked fingers with a painful frown. "Anyway, give me a minute. I'll go grab the paperwork," he says before running away.

"Well?" Charlie asks turning to look at her. The way her face as fallen in a matter of moments unsettles his stomach, but he’s trying not to care because how many times does she have to make it clear that she’s in love with someone else?

"It's going better than I expected, I just didn't think he'd be here," she confesses, pursing her lips. The sight of Travis has her bent out of shape, and she’s struggling to keep control.

Charles nod, allowing his eyes to stay shut a moment longer as he blinks. His suspicions are right. "Hey," he hears her call, and when his eyes open she's standing so close he feels dizzy.
"Thanks for being here, Charlie," she's sincere as she looks up at him, and, fuck, it makes his heart skip a beat.

"I don't think I could've done this without you," she declares as her arms wrap around his torso. She can feel him mimic her actions, and when she looks up he leans down to place a soft kiss on her lips, a kiss she didn't know she wanted until it had began. The sound of a throat clearing brings her back, and her head jerks to see Travis standing at the threshold of the kitchen with a frown plastered in the middle of that five ‘o’ clock shadow.

Travis had heard Adam's feet traveling up the stairs, and he'd hoped to get a word in with Chelsea, but upon hearing the other man's voice, he has stood to the side of the entrance listening to their conversation. His heart thumping in his chest as he listened to that blue eyed country boy suck up to her in ways he wishes he could. The jealousy that's coursing through him is unreal, and for a moment he wonders if this is how she felt when she first saw Madie, and every time after. He wants to jump out of the shadows and call her out, but when he takes a step forward only to see their lips locked, he can't help but to feel defeated. He clears his throat to hold back the cough that's choking his tears, and when her eyes land on his, he can feel himself gulp. This isn't fair. She was supposed to be his. He thought she'd always be his.

"Okay," Adam's voice breaks their staring contest, and all three of them look over to see the hands at the end of his tattooed arms pulling the stack of papers from a large white envelope. "Signed and delivered," he says reaching over to show her his autograph right above her own.

Chelsea extends a shaky hand, gripping the papers with her fingers so firmly, scared they may disappear. A resolution has come to this long and painful situation, and even though it's a relief, she can feel the fear creeping up. "Thank you, Adam," she's content for the moment as she pushes them back inside the envelope for. "I hope you call sometime," she concludes before turning back around and leading Charlie out. She stops for a moment as she passes Travis. Her eyes look up, and linger on his blank face. She wants to say something. To tell him anything, but when nothing comes out she tells her feet to keep moving. Tunnel vision takes her through the front door, and the panic attack she's having makes it hard to light a cigarette. She doesn't remember how she does it, but it's between her lips, and she's taking drag after drag, settling her body on the hood of the black sedan to steady herself.

A firm arm on Charlie's chest keeps him from taking another step. He looks down, taking in the tattoos that litter the arm before following it up to Travis' face. There's a moment of silence, and as Charlie is about to take another step Travis' voice is a warning.

"If you hurt her I'll know, and I'll fucking kill you," he says without flinching.

Charlie stares at him for a moment before letting out a chuckle. "I'd instruct you to follow your own advice, because let's be honest, out of the three of us here, you've hurt her the most," Charlie's statement is bold, and he has no intention of taking it back. He's not surprised that Travis pushes him back angrily, but he's not here to fight.

"Look, man," that North Carolina accent is as evident as it's ever been as he starts, "I came here as a friend. I'm not here to steal her from you. I don’t really see why, but you've got her heart, and there's no stealing that. If you're gonna do something, then do it, otherwise let her go." Charlie waits for a reaction, but when one doesn't come he scoffs at the man before taking a step forward and following Chelsea out. She's half sitting on the car, and he finds himself jogging to her in a hurry to make sure she's okay.

"Chels," he calls out, watching her take a drag from her cigarette. Her eyes are kind of foggy as she looks up at him, and he can see her blink repeatedly trying to ground herself. He reaches to grab ahold of her cold hand, and she takes another hit before throwing the rest of her cigarette out.

Chelsea's gaze falls on those fucking blue eyes again, and she finds herself reaching up to indulge in a sloppy kiss. She doesn't want to give in, but the sense of nostalgia they bring have her spiraling out of control. They remind her of high school, of falling into Colson long lanky arms and feeling safe. Charlie pulls back to look at her, and she can feel herself melting on the spot. His touch is almost good enough to make her forget everything that just transpired, and she feels intoxicated. "Come on," her voice is sultry as she runs a hand along his chest, "let's get out of here."

Charlie gulps, watching her walk to the passengers side. His eyes trail down her body, and he can't help but bite his lip at the thought of her kissing him like that again. He doesn't want to do this. He doesn't want them to use each other, but he doesn't know how the hell to say no.

Travis stands at the door watching the scene unfold before him. There is an animal instinct inside him that wants to tackle the man to the ground. He can feel his heart drop to his fucking feet when he watches her kiss him. He's watched her kiss too many men that weren’t him, and he doesn't know how much more he can take. The air around him is so silent that he can hear his own labored breathing, and he's shaking with anger as he watches her give him that look. He can remember that look like it was yesterday. That’s the look she gave him when she left Richard and found herself in his bed begging him to fuck her, and now here she is giving a complete stranger that same look. His look.

The hand on his shoulder makes him tense up, and he has to use every ounce of energy in his body not to turn around and swing because he knows it's only Adam. Travis watches the car drive off, not even remembering hearing it turn on, and the growl that leaves his throat doesn't even sound human.

"Looks like I'm not the only one that lost her," Adam says from his side. His tone is smug, but when Travis turns to give him a look, Adam feels like he just got punched in the gut. Travis' face is the angriest he's ever seen, an anger so deep in your bones that it makes you want to cry instead of scream, and Adam is left speechless. "I'm sorry," he tells his friend. Adam's not done hurting, and though he thought it would feel better if he took it out on his friend, suddenly he's feeling worse.

"Yea, me too," Travis' voice is monotone as he speaks, and Adam watches him walk off with his hands in the pockets of his hoodie. His sneakers are dragging over the pavement as he makes his way up the driveway and to the sidewalk, and Adam can feel his own face fall into a frown. He's going to have to suck it up. He's lost Chelsea, and he can't afford to lose Travis. Thick or thin, he means well. The man never stopped being his best friend. Travis didn’t have to, but he drove Chelsea away after he fucked up, and that was for Adam's sake. Maybe it's time to forgive him before he disappears like his wife. Maybe it’s time they all did a little forgiving because life has a way of turning out exactly as it’s supposed to.

Still, as Adam shuts the door and the smell of the vanilla candle burning in the living room fills his senses, he can’t help but to cry at the reality that only five minutes ago he was married to the woman of his dreams, and now he is not. There are memories that constantly flood his mind, but the one that haunts him the most is completely imagined. Though he didn’t witness it, It’s as if he can see Chelsea’s lips on Travis’ crystal clear right before him, and it makes him fight to catch his breath. Fuck, life sure needs to work itself out a lot faster if he’s going to survive this in one piece.