Next Life

Throughout the evening Charlotte avoids looking across the table and concentrates on her plate, even occasionally glances at Soren. Heather is on her fourth glass of wine and her voice isn't getting any lower. The date is pleasant but poorly matched, and it shows.

"Would you both care to go for a walk after this?"

"Yeah!" my roommate blurts.

I don't know how she intends on walking in those heels but I'm sure she'll have her pick on who's to carry her. The four of us head down to the end of the street and a part of me is relieved to see Soren talk to her. Heather seems equally amused as they walk ahead leaving us to fend for ourselves.

Graeme matches Charlotte's stride. I feel him watching, and her mouth curves. She's allowed to talk to him after all, we've just been holding back for her roommate's sake.

"Are you always this quiet?" he asks.

"Usually."

"A thousand thoughts and not one to spare?"

"Okay, how long have you and Heather been . . . online dating?" I ask with brows high and he laughs.

"I swear it was Soren's idea, he made my profile and kept playing with it until it was too late I fear."

"Why too late?"

"There's too many matches and they message all at once . . . however, I'm disappointed I haven't found your picture yet."

"Nor will you, ever. I don't have time for that, I'm too overwhelmed with school work."

I'm enjoying the fact that Charlotte and I are taking turns in this conversation.

"So am I, but . . . I'm glad I did it now," he hints.

"I can tell she likes you a lot. You make her nervous, not many guys can do that."

What is that, Charlotte?! We're on the same team here and it's not Heather's!

"Do I make you nervous?" he grins and Charlotte looks ahead to make sure Heather isn't listening.

"It doesn't matter, you're not MY date."

"Well I see no connection between You and Soren."

See, even he knows it.

"He's a nice person, so is Heather-"

"How long have you been friends?"

Good question. I'm dying to know.

"That's tough to say. We've been roommates for this semester, so the friendship sort of came with the apartment."

That explains it!

"Not very long then."

"Why the sudden interest?"

"The strength of the friendship determines if you'll say yes or not."

"Yes to what?" She smirks.

"Yes to the possibility of . . . me."

"That's if I'm even interested," I smile arrogantly. Charlotte had way too many turns.

"I can tell when people are lying, so on with it. Tell me you're not," Graeme turns around to face me as he walks backwards.

"I can't. Girl code."

"Seriously?"

"What are you two talking about back there?!" Heather shouts.

"Charlotte was telling me how long you two have been friends," he grins.

"Make me look good, Char!"

Mind your own business!

Heather is clearly drunk, she can barely walk. Soren is kind enough to offer his arm for support as they continue onward. We're approaching Tompkins Square Park, it's quiet and sparingly lit. Truthfully, I'm as happy as ever to have Graeme to myself for this tiny bit. I had been scheming up ways to get him alone all night, knowing Charlotte wouldn't actually do it. She wouldn't betray her roommate like that. But I could.

Sure enough, Heather takes off her shoes, too intoxicated to care. Soren looks back at us and smiles at Graeme. They must share a silent language for Soren turns around and scoops Heather in his arms, taking off running.

Impressive strength.

"Does Soren know?" I ask.

"He knows enough to see the obvious."

The obvious?

Charlotte smiles. She fails to see it, or maybe wants to see it more clearly. We stroll down the walkway, lamp posts lit to perfection. Her arms are down by her sides and I'm secretly hoping he'll take her hand.

"Do you date a lot?" I try to initiate more conversation.

"Not so much now. Soren is the ladies' man . . . I transferred here 2 years ago and dated left and right till I grew bored. Lots of Heathers but no Charlottes."

We blush and she looks away.

"Are you planning on telling Heather?"

"What, that I fancy her friend?"

"No, that you're not interested in her. You can't lead her on, you know?"

"Right and I don't mean to, but yes, I was going to thank her for the lovely evening and avoid the line "I'll call you sometime"."

"I guess that's the nice way of doing it."

"And then I'll swing by the next day to pick you up . . . let's say around 6 o'clock?"

"No. You won't." She fights a smile.

"You're not very daring are you?"

"Is this a polite way of saying I'm a boring person."

"I see that you're a good person. You get the grades and you apply yourself. But do you seize the moment or live vicariously through Heather's adventures?"

Truth hurts, Charlotte. He has a point.

She has no answer to that but I know a challenge when I see one. I hear Heather's boisterous laughter and it sounds like she's getting closer. Whoever this Charlotte girl really is, she seems to be living in the shadow of her roommate with something to prove. What exactly, I'm not sure but I don't think she normally gets THE guy.

"Quick, follow me," Graeme speaks softly while grabbing her hand to cut between the trees.

We walk further through the grass and away from the last traces of light. Now we blend as shadows among the thick trunks, away from lurking eyes. Heather's screeches continue and I thank God for the scene that's making Charlotte look more mature than her older example. Spotting two large trees, we hide between them and laugh quietly at our harmless prank.

"Now we're safe."

"Yes well, how long do you intend on hiding from them?"

"Long enough to buy me some more time with you," he smiles and leans against the bark. "This might sound odd, but there is something familiar about you. Have we met before somewhere? Maybe in class or lecture?"

"I don't think so, but I know what you mean," I confess this time.

"That can't be a coincidence then!"

"Maybe."

"I don't suppose I can ask for your number?"

What do I do? What do I do? This isn't MY life anyway. Who know's how long I'll be here. I know what the REAL me would do.

I think it's time you start living a bit more.

"What time is it? I really should get back."

"It's early, it's not even ten yet."

"Which is why I should leave now so I have enough time to study and sleep."

Don't be a coward!

Graeme sighs heavily and for a moment I'm caught in the fantasy of choice. Charlotte walks back to the path and starts calling for Heather but I don't see or hear her. She begins dialing her number and paces around. Graeme catches up and waits near by.

"Heather isn't picking up," she says worried.

"I trust Soren, he'll take good care of her. They might've taken a cab without us."

"Can you call him and check, please?"

He nods and puts the phone on speaker. Soren isn't answering either. Graeme leaves a message, asking his friend to call him once he gets this. Charlotte texts Heather stating she's taking a cab back to the apartment.

"Can you wait for five minutes, mate?" Graeme asks the taxi driver as we exit. "I'll walk you up."

I'm glad she brought her own keys as she unlocks the main door. Graeme follows us to the second floor. Keys jingle in her hands as we walk to apartment 24. She's nervous but he can't stay that long if he has the cab waiting.

"Heather! Heather are you here?" Charlotte throws her bag on the couch and barges into her room, then the bathroom. "She's not here."

"I wonder if they went for more drinks. Heather's the party girl, isn't she?"

She nods and thinks deeper with her hands on her waist.

"Well, Charlotte, thank you for a lovely evening. I'd like to call you sometime but I don't have your number. Yet, I know where you live," he chuckles and returns to being serious. "I should go but . . . I really want to kiss you."

I do too!

Charlotte bites her lip, so hard I can feel the surge of blood ready to fill the light dent.

Screw it!

I dash towards him and he removes his glasses before holding me at the waist when we finally kiss. Another hand slides behind my neck and the connection between us sparks something indescribable. I see Graeme. I see him but he looks different. I open and close my eyes again and it's the same image, Graeme with long hair.

Professor Hartwell?

Charlotte moans and pushes away, my vision causing one heck of an interruption. She's only inches away from him now.

"Wow, I've never seen eyes that green before," she says catching her breath.

"Do you still want me to go?" He looks hopeful.

"You should."

No, not yet!

After a frustrating puff, he turns around and walks out for good. Closing the door behind him, she bangs her head against the surface and tries to convince herself of the semi good deed.

There's a knock and we bolt towards the door.

"I'm glad you-you're here!" Charlotte corrects herself while Soren carries Heather inside.

"She's quite the lightweight. She passed out before we took the cab, but don't worry, she already threw up."

"Not on you I hope." I cringe as we follow them into her bedroom.

"No, we made it to the sink. . . in the men's bathroom. I made sure she didn't get it on herself."

"Thank you so much."

"She'll sleep like rock till the morning. How about you, you alright?"

"Yeah, I was just hoping . . ."

"That I was someone else?"

"Never mind. I'm going to bed now."

"So should I tell Graeme to leave?"

"What-wait is he still here?"

"Yeah, he's downstairs. He said he would wait for me."

"Oh," she bites her fingernail, lacking more words.

"Good night, Charlotte."

"Ummm. . . good-night."

I watch the door close, again, and I regret not making up an excuse to get Graeme to return. Rushing to the window, I see the cab drive away. My courage came a little too late. I let him slip through her fingers. For no good reason! He was meant for me not for Heather, she could care less anyway. Dragging her feet back to the room, Charlotte startles at the single knock.

Tip-toeing to the peep hole, Charlotte's heart leaps.

"You never left," she whispers with a smile.

"I couldn't. I wanted to kiss you again," he says equally low.

I grab his hand and scurry to hide in my room. I shut the door and when I face him again, his glasses are off and his hands are cupping my face. His kisses are lulling me to bed. Every time I close my lids, the vision of Mr. Hartwell's eyes seem more vivid than in real life; they glow along with his smile. The scenery confuses me but it's still him nonetheless.

My hormones might destroy Charlotte's morals. I only wanted to show her the door not take over completely. As much as I hate to do this. . .

It's your turn.

"Wait! Wait!" She whispers, stopping his hands from roaming around.

It was good while it lasted.

"I know, I'll go, but not until I have your number."

Charlotte spins around and searches for a Sharpie on her desk. Smiling before biting on the lid she grabs his forearm and scribbles down her number.

"Perfect. I'll call you tomorrow. But first-"

Graeme steps in to lay one more kiss before retreating. His smile does something crazy to Charlotte. I know she's looking forward to his call.

Notes

Happy weekend everyone! Remember and be thankful 9/11.