The Good Ones Go

“Those kids were miserable. If I ever tell you I want some, please ask me to shoot myself in the foot instead,” Chelsea groans as she jingles her key into the antique knob of her front door. Taking one step inside as she pushes the door open, she glances back with a smile on her face to look at a laughing Charlie. She wants to take a moment longer to admire the dimples that dig into his chiseled cheeks, but the look on his face forces her to turn her head very wearily right back around only to come face to face with the person she’s been trying her best to avoid.

“Cole,” her breath hitches in her throat at the sight of him, and she can feel her heart thumping as every moment she spent with Charlie flashes before her eyes. Her hands falls to her sides limply, almost allowing the keys to slide out of her hands. “What are you doing here?” the words are a sigh on her breathless lips painted in a nude shade of pink. Her brows are furrowed in confusion as she watches him pace back and forth in front of her velvet navy couch.

“You wouldn’t answer your phone. Can you blame me for being worried?” Richard asks. His voice is stern, and his hands are fidgeting with the lint in the pockets of his dark washed Levi’s as he gives the man behind her a once over. Richard maintains his stoic expression even though he's shocked to realize that it feels like looking into a funhouse mirror where the spitting image of him, sans tattoos but much more muscle, is staring right back. He pushes that thought back into his head when, to his surprise, a southern voice leaves his reflection’s lips, “um, I’m gonna head on home and get some rest. I’ll see ya at work tomorrow, alright?”

Richard watches Chelsea turn around without a moment of hesitation. The look on her face is apologetic as she stands on her toes, even in her heels, to give the man a peck. When he returns it, Richard finds himself involuntarily clearing his throat at the sight, and Charles looks up at him once more before turning around and shutting the door behind his forest green suitcase.

“You could have picked up. Texted. Something. Anything,” Richard says when he finally has Chelsea's undivided attention. His tone gives away the turmoil of emotion he's feeling inside. He’s not angry, he’s just concerned. He's hurt by the display too, but he’s only got himself to blame for that one.

“I was a little busy,” she sighs heavily as she walks over to the couch, setting her fairly expensive bag down before having a seat. She’s exhausted, and she’s not really up for this back and forth they’re having right now.

“Well?” Richard asks, eyeing the spot next to her, debating whether to take it or not. Just a few days ago they almost had sex, and now she’s come back from her weekend trip with another man. This is becoming too much to process, and he’s not sure how much longer he can keep it together. How had she done it all those years ago? How did she put up with him? He’d have to apologize for it though he's not sure what good it'll do.

“Well what?” Chelsea asks. Her eyes flutter up to him, voluminous lashes momentarily blinking in annoyance at the fact that all of this is unexpected. Her face softens a little when it lands on him. She can almost tell what’s going on in his head because she can feel the bass in the beat of his heart filling the space between them, and she can’t help but to feel a little guilty.

Richard attempts to hide his nervous gulp by rolling his eyes at her. She’s being childish. He takes a step and plants himself right next to her with one leg up, allowing him to sit sideways and get a good view of every face she going to make to tell him how much she doesn’t want him here. “Did you get what you wanted, Chelsea?” he asks firmly, not taking his eyes off her.

Chelsea glances over at him again. His expression is empty now, but those goddamn eyes are full enough to spill over like magma. She gulps before reaching down into her purse, pulling out that glorious white envelope, and setting it on the coffee table. She watches from the corner of her eye as Richard nods with pursed lips, and she can’t help but wonder how he feels about this.

“Good,” he pauses to lick his drying lips, “good. I’m really happy for you, Chels.” His eyes look away, landing on the imperfections of her old squeaky hardwood floor which he maintains as a desperate distraction.

Chelsea can feel the nerves making her belly rumble. These few months she’s spent with Colson have been unlike anything she’s ever imagined, but she’s still not used to it. She’s not used to him being there, talking to her, being honest, or reliable. Losing Travis made her lose herself, and suddenly it seems that this blue-eyed bad boy that stole her heart so long ago never returned all of it - even if she tried to tell herself he did.

“I mean, it’s not, well, I know it kind of sucks,” Colson finds himself rambling. His tongue is tripping over his words, and God, he’s so nervous. He’s picking at a thread in the sleeve of his shirt before he takes a deep breath and says, “divorce isn’t fun, but I know that it’s what you wanted. I’m happy that it’s over, and that you get to move on.” He thinks about how those must have been Adam's words when she finally left him, and his heart drops into his stomach at the scene he’s painting in his mind.

“I think Charlie and I are a thing,” leaves Chelsea’s mouth as if she’s in a hurry to admit it. The admission catches even her off guard, but she tries to keep her cool as she looks to him eagerly for a response, her thumbs subconsciously picking at each other.

Colson only nods. His expression doesn’t change much save for his lips pursing at her words. His eyes are still a raging fire even though he’s fighting to control them. He forces himself to look up at her, taking a shaky breath as her hazel eyes seem to beg him to say something. He told her they could be friends. Maybe he was wrong, but it wouldn’t be fair of him to force these feelings onto her. Clearing his throat he manages, “well, do you want to be a thing?”

Chelsea lets her head fall at the question. “No,” is her first thought, but she sighs before admitting, “I don’t know.” Her eyes are on the mustard colored sweater that sits on the arm chair across from them. She can’t look at him, and she's thankful at the unwashed brown locks that shield her face from him in that moment.

“I don’t understand,” Colson’s brows raise, asking for clarification. His eyes are boring into her, and he can see her grow more nervous as she repositions herself. She’s picking at the skin of her nails now and doing her best to avoid his gaze.

“We slept together,” she doesn’t look at him when she says it, instead she leans forward to undo the peacoat that’s now suffocating her in the warmth of her own house. “Multiple times,” she adds before she loses the courage to admit it. Throwing her coat over the arm of the sofa, she reaches down to readjust her top before crossing her arms in front of her chest.

Colson lingers in his blink a little longer, wondering how he can possibly take on this role of platonic best friend so soon. “That doesn’t mean that it has to be anything more than it is. He’d tell you if he wants more. Don't stress out,” Cole says. He’s unsure if his words are biased, but suddenly he’s remembering that this Charlie guy looks a lot like him, and he can’t help but wonder...

“Well, what if he does?” Chelsea is flustered. She’s gotten herself in a mess. Charlie’s wonderful, but she’s so fucking in love with Travis, and now these feelings for her high school sweetheart are resurfacing. She can’t be with anyone right now - it just wouldn’t be healthy. She wants to believe that she's got some sense of self awareness, but she's beginning to think she never did. Hiding behind her books her whole life has kept her reflective on everything else besides her own self.

“Well, why are you even hooking up?” Cole finds himself asking. Still, he’s questioning his own motives, and he’s fucking nervous, but he has to know if she’s moved on.

“He reminds me of you,” leaves her lips. Her eyes are locked dead on him, and even if he wanted to look away there was no way he could. “When we were happy,” she adds reluctantly. She wasn’t going to tell him that, but now it’s out, and there’s no taking it back. This is dangerous. She can tell by the way her cheeks are warming and her fingers shaking.

“Aren’t we still happy?” She can tell that he’s searching for something, and she wants to give it to him, but that's a bad idea. It’s a worse idea than sleeping with Charlie, and she’s not going to make another mistake.

“Not in the same way,” her tone is regretful, and she can feel herself gulp as she utters the words, but it's time to be honest. Her weary hand reaches to push her wavy locks back, and her eyes find their way back to her lap because she’s coming to her senses, and this is fucking embarrassing.

“We could be,” Colson’s voice is barely above a whisper. He’s holding his breath after the words leave his lips, counting slowly in the back of his mind to keep himself calm.

“Richard,” Chelsea sighs. Her tone is disapproving, but he knows that look in her eyes. She’s thinking about it, and that’s enough for him.

“You know I hate when you call me that,” he groans, throwing his head back in attempt to lighten the mood.

Chelsea chuckles at his comment, glancing over at him with a grin on her face. “No one calls you Richard though. It makes me feel special,” the words leave her before she realizes how flirtatious they sound, but when she sees the smile break out on his face, she doesn’t regret them.

“You’re special in a lot of other ways, Chels,” Colson suggests, but when he notices her sudden change in demeanor at his words, he clears his throat and stands.

“I should get back. Cas is with the housekeeper, and she’s leaving soon,” he shoves his hands back into the pockets of his windbreaker as he looks down at her awkwardly.

“Right, okay,” she says nervously, cracking her knuckles as she speaks. “Well, I guess we’ll talk later then,” she gives him a nod before standing. Dangerously close to him when she gets to her feet, Chelsea’s nerves get the best of her, and she finds herself losing her footing and falling back onto the sofa.

Colson reaches forward on instinct in attempt to steady her only to have his own body dragged down with hers. Landing on top of her and forgetting to breath, he looks up to see her unsure eyes peering up at him. He fights the urge to kiss her, pushing himself up before offering her a hand.

Chelsea takes the outstretched calloused hand and heaves herself up to her feet. She can feel herself blushing beneath Cole’s gaze so she clears her throat instinctively.

“See ya tomorrow, Chels,” he says before hurrying out the door. He doesn't give her a chance to say goodbye as he almost runs out of the apartment, and Chelsea is left wondering what the hell just happened.

A heavy sigh leaves her body at the quiet that resonates through the room. The only audible sound is that of cars passing by, and the heat blowing through the central air vents. Chelsea sits back down as if not by her own will. Her tired body weighs her down, and she yawns as she reaches for the contents of the envelope sitting atop the old weathered coffee table.

Adam’s autograph is drawn in a doctor’s cursive right above her own, and she finds herself shaking her head as if she's in disbelief. There is something inside her that wants to breakdown at the idea that she's lost now, alone. Yet there is a sense of relief in knowing that things have finally come to an end. Still, as Chelsea sits all alone in her living room bringing a cigarette to her lips, she finds that she's unable to fight back some tears. As they fall she lets herself linger on the ways in which she ruined her future. She knows he's been with plenty of women since her, but she can't help but to feel that she betrayed him. She doesn't deserve to be happy. She doesn't deserve to have Travis.

The ringing of her cell phone from her purse brings her back to reality. She stands to dig through the bag, and when she pulls it out she's surprised to see that it's Charlie who's calling. “Hello?” She picks up quickly, worried that something is wrong.

“Hey,” his voice is soft as he speaks, and she lets out an inaudible sigh of relief.

“Everything okay?” she asks, still a little weary of what he might say.

“Yeah, uh,” he clears his throat, “I guess I just wanted to make sure you were okay. Your friend didn’t seem too happy to see me, and well, I guess I was worried.” He hopes she can’t hear how stupid he feels right now because sex is sex. They can’t be friends. He can’t care. That’s not how this works.

Chelsea chuckles before she speaks. “I’m fine, Charlie. Big girl over here, remember?”

“Oh yeah, so big she needed a stranger to ask her husband for a divorce,” he teases, hoping that isn’t too far. God, what if she gets offended?

“Haha, very funny,” she deadpans. “Let it be known that those bad jokes are not how you got in my pants,” she tries to lighten the mood, hoping he can hear the smile in her voice past the cigarette between her lips.

He smirks at her comment, relieved that she’s not upset. “Please, we both know that you’re the one that seduced me. I’m just the poor gazelle preyed on by the big bad lioness,” he jokes. There is a grin between his cheeks even though he's trying his best not to get excited.

“If you had said cougar, this friendship would be over,” she pretends to be stern, reaching over to die out what's left of the Marlboro in her hand.

“Please, I know better than to call an old hag old to her face,” he gasps after he speaks, pretending to be surprised at his own words.

“Oh lucky you that it wasn’t to my face then, huh?” The smile on her face seems to be permanent as she squirms in her seat. The knock on her door distracts her, though, and her face falls at the thought of who it could be. “Sorry, Charles, I’ve gotta go,” she says, feeling the nerves eat up her belly at the thought that maybe it’s Travis on the other side. She doesn’t give Charlie a chance to say goodbye as she hangs up and stands, walking to the door in a trance. Her hand is shaky as she opens it, and when the deep voice resonates within her walls, Chelsea lets out a nervous chuckle.

“I would’ve thought that someone as old as you would know that is rude to just hang up on people,” his voice is lighthearted as he speaks, but the look on her face makes his brows scrunch up. “Are you okay?” He’s concerned that her mood has changed so quickly.

“Yea, just wasn’t expecting you,” she admits with a gulp as she steps back to let him in.

“You were expecting someone else?” One eyebrow is raised and both hands are in the back pockets of his jeans as he wonders what he's getting himself into again.

“No, I just, I don’t know. I’m sorry. I guess I’m still a little in my own head, trying to wrap my mind around how things are changing,” she says. It’s a fucking lie. Mostly anyway, and she feels like shit the second it leaves her lips.

“Understandable. At least this way there’s no punishment for me,” he smirks at her as he locks the door behind him.

“Oh, don’t think for a second I didn’t hear what you said,” she teases back, wanting to change the mood to anything else but this regret that she’s feeling.

Charles can feel the change in her demeanor in an instant, and it almost makes him uneasy. Still, he wants to get lost in this, even if it’s wrong, so he leans down and plants a kiss on her lips while a hand trials down her body to grab a hold of her butt.

“Uh uh,” Chelsea breaks the kiss to speak. “No touching,” she tells him in a sultry voice. Her eyes flutter up to look at him, and when he lets out a groan, she smiles.

“I think you’re gonna be the death of me,” Charles admits as he finds himself falling into her gaze. He can feel his cock harden, pressing up against the denim of his pants in attempt to reach her.

“Maybe you should think of it more as a rebirth,” she whispers, reaching down to rub him through his jeans. This is fucked up. This isn’t who she is. Rebirth is a ridiculous way to describe her new behavior because this is rebirth in the worst way.

“Are we really doing this? What happened in Maryland doesn’t have to stay in Maryland?” He’s questioning his decision, fighting back a moan from the way her hand is working against him.

Chelsea is on her toes again, leaving a trail of warm kisses up his neck. A delicate breath tickles his ear, she can tell by the way he shivers, and she finds herself whispering, against all her own advice, “not if you don’t want to, but I haven’t stopped thinking about you inside me since you left today.”

She’s egging him on for all the wrong reasons, and he knows it, but goddamn, how can he resist? His hands grab a hold of her waist, and before she knows it, he has pushed her into her bedroom. She breaks the kiss to take a step back and admire him. Charlie sits on the mattress, and just as he’s about to reach forward to pull her with him, she steps back again with a wicked smile.

“I said no touching,” she states, walking forward to push him onto his back.

Charlie pulls his t-shirt off before using his arm as a pillow. He’s intrigued as he watches her move closer and closer. He’s sure she can see the arousal in his eyes because he can feel his whole body get hot with anticipation. His eyes shut for a moment as she works on his zipper. He’s sure she’s going to get on top, and he won’t pass that opportunity up, even if means he really won’t let him touch her. Just as he’s imagining her riding him, a pair of wet lips on his dick force his eyes open, and when he meets her gaze he’s sure he could cum in that instant.

Chelsea’s hand has a firm grip on his cock as she brings it to her mouth. She’s looking up at him seductively, and all she can see staring back at her are Colson’s blue eyes. For a second there is a guilt that creeps up inside of her, but it quickly transforms into accomplishment when Charlie throws his head back in pleasure, letting out an earthy moan that seems to swallow Chelsea whole. There would be consequences for this, but she’s going to put them off for as long as she can. Running from and avoiding things seems to be the only thing she's good at. Well, that, and judging by Charlie’s reaction, she can add oral to the list.