12. Marissa

CHAPTER 12

MARISSA

" H ow do you take it?" I ask, turning my back to Charlie as he sits on the couch.

"Black. Thanks."

I busy myself at the coffee maker, not wanting him to see my face. Not wanting him to see just how much his apology impacted me.

I used to think he was just another spoiled jock, but now I see a layer of depth in him that catches me off guard. The vulnerable side he's revealing makes me like him more than I ever thought possible.

A twinge of warmth spreads through my chest. The feeling is completely alien and undeniably terrifying. But it's also… refreshing. Invigorating. Exciting.

I don't turn around as I add sugar to my coffee and leave his black. I need another moment to get myself together.

It's impossible to deny the effect Charlie is having on me. It's been a long time since I've been this attracted to a guy.

Actually… maybe I've never been this attracted. Which is terrifying.

I've never been lucky when it comes to men. Like I told Charlie the other day, I was in love once. Unfortunately, he cheated on me six months into the relationship.

After that, I guess I shut down. Focused on other things in life, like my work. Yes, I still believed in love… but I also started to wonder whether or not it was really for me.

Meeting Charlie feels like irony at its finest. He's the perfect man when it comes to looks, heart, and ambition. Unfortunately, he's also wildly imperfect when it comes to other things.

Taking a deep breath, I turn around and carry the two mugs of coffee over to the couch.

"Here." I pass him his mug, our fingers brushing slightly in the transfer. Mm. I'd like to feel the warmth of his hands on my skin.

"Thanks." His eyes meet mine for a moment, but then I quickly look away.

"Okay, let's start by going over the basics." I take my seat a cushion away from him. "We need to make sure we have all of that nailed down. Likes, hobbies, pet peeves — anything to make us seem like a real couple."

"We already went over those."

"And we need to go over them again." I pin him with a hard look. "And then add from there."

He nods, and it gives me faith that he's not trying to argue my methods.

We spend the next hour exchanging facts about ourselves. I learn that he loves classic rock music, has a secret talent for cooking, and absolutely despises slow walkers. In turn, I share my love for hiking, my obsession with iced coffee, and my aversion to people who talk during movies.

As we dig deeper, we begin constructing a false story about how we met months ago, long before I became his agent. We decide that instead of dating right away, we remained on the outskirts of each other's lives, intrigued but hesitant to take the plunge.

"Then, when I needed new representation, you offered to step in," Charlie adds, a mischievous grin forming on his lips. "And that's when we realized our feelings for each other."

"Exactly," I agree, returning his smile. It's a solid story, and I feel confident that it'll be convincing enough for the upcoming meeting.

With every detail we add, the tension in the room seems to shift. I notice how Charlie's eyes seem to linger on me a little longer than necessary, and I find myself doing the same.

The hours fly by. We order room service and quiz each other on details as we pace around the room. We laugh at stories from our college days. We even share a few awkward silences, our eyes meeting in a way that makes my heart pound and my cheeks flush.

Charlie's laugh is infectious, his smile genuine. His warmth fills the room, oddly comforting in an environment that's supposed to be all business. He's much more than I initially thought — more than just a pretty face and a talented athlete. There's depth to Charlie Elwood; there's surprising softness.

"I hate cilantro," he says abruptly from the other side of the room, breaking our silence.

I laugh, taken aback by the random confession. "Okay. It tastes like soap?"

"Yes." He grins. "How did you know?"

I chuckle again and make a mental note of it, despite how unlikely the topic of cilantro will come up during our meeting tomorrow.

But then, as twilight seeps into the room and fatigue paints shadows under our eyes, we find ourselves side by side on the couch again. The laughter dies down, replaced by a quiet understanding that we've done a good job today. It's strange how draining pretending can be.

Looking at Charlie almost feels intimate now, his expressive eyes holding my gaze and then looking to my lips. His hand rests next to mine on the couch: close but not touching. The possibility of contact sends goosebumps up my arm.

For an illusion, it feels terribly real.

I lick my lips and search for something distracting to talk about, something that has nothing to do with the butterflies in my chest.

"What are your favorite movies?" I ask.

"Movies?" He seems surprised by the question but plays along. "Hmm, that's tough… Okay, I have a top three. The Godfather , Rocky , and… The Princess Bride ."

" The Princess Bride ?" I burst out laughing. "You're kidding."

He shakes his head, defending his choice. "What? It's a classic."

In the dim light, his eyes twinkle with mirth, and my heart does that annoying flutter again. I swallow it down and feign seriousness.

"I didn't peg you as a fan of romantic comedies," I say.

"Well…" He shrugs nonchalantly. "I guess it doesn't pay to judge a book by its cover."

I chuckle at that. It's a simple statement but somehow profound coming from him. Charlie Elwood, the star athlete, the man who always looks so brooding in photos, loves The Princess Bride .

As our laughter subsides, our conversation lulls and our eyes meet once more. The air between us crackles again like a live wire. All of a sudden, I notice how close we are now — close enough to close the distance if either of us dared.

"What about you?" he asks. "Favorite movies."

"Me?" I tap my finger against my chin, buying some time.

His question has scattered my thoughts. A tame attempt to locate their fragments leaves me staring at his lips.

"Julia Roberts," I answer, forcing my gaze back to his eyes. "Anything with Julia Roberts."

He chuckles at my vague reply. "That's not a movie."

"But it's an answer," I retort, giving him a playful shrug.

Silence follows, but it's a comfortable one. The kind of silence that speaks volumes on its own, without the need for words or sounds. His gaze shifts from my eyes to my mouth, lingering for a moment before moving back up again.

"And why Julia Roberts?" He continues the conversation smoothly, as if he didn't just inspect my lips like they were made of gold.

"Because she's amazing," I state. "She's strong and she's real, and she can be anyone she wants to be."

Charlie nods thoughtfully, admiration in his eyes.

"Strong and real," he repeats softly. Then after a pause, adds, "Like you."

My heart skips a beat. Or maybe it stops altogether — I can't feel it anymore.

The room is dense with unspoken words and unsaid feelings hanging between us like fog. The heat from his body radiates towards me, making me shiver despite the warmth.

Somehow, my rational voice comes to the forefront. It reminds me what's really at stake here. If I make things complicated with Charlie, I'll be risking it all.

"More coffee?" I pop to standing and grab both our mugs.

Is that disappointment on his face? I can't tell, and I don't want to know. If I've just missed an opportunity at something wildly passionate, then I'm okay with ignorance.

"It's kind of late," he says.

"And we still have hours of work ahead of us." I make my way to the coffee pot. "We haven't even gotten to the serious stuff yet."

"Sure. Thank you." He stretches his arms above his head. "What's next?"

"Family history." I start a fresh pot and turn around to face him.

He makes a face. "Okay."

"I know," I say sarcastically. "Super fun stuff."

"What should I know about you?"

"Let's start with the basics." I take a deep breath. "My parents are still married, living in Lake Forest. They met in college and have been together ever since."

Charlie remains silent, listening intently. The tension in his shoulders betrays his unease about this topic. But we must continue.

"I also have an older sister named Jenna," I continue. "She's a lawyer, married with two kids. We're close, even though she lives halfway across the country. I try to visit as often as I can." My voice trails off, leaving an opening for Charlie to chime in with his own story.

He hesitates, running a hand through his hair before looking down at his lap. His reluctance is understandable, but if we want to pull off this ruse, we need to know each other inside out.

"Charlie," I coax gently. "We need to do this right. I won't judge you, I promise."

He looks up at me, his eyes filled with a vulnerability I haven't seen before. After a brief pause, he finally starts talking. "You're right. We need to do this properly."

"Thank you."

"Growing up, my family was… complicated." His voice wavers slightly. "It wasn't always easy, but we managed."

"Tell me more," I encourage, wanting to understand the man beneath the tough exterior.

"My mom was a nurse," he says, staring off into the distance. "She worked long hours, but she always tried her best to be there for me. I appreciate that now, even if I didn't back then."

"Sounds like a strong woman," I comment, imagining the sacrifices she must have made.

"Yeah, she is," he agrees, a hint of pride in his voice. "But it wasn't easy on her, especially after… well, things changed."

"Changed?" I prompt, curious about the story hidden behind his words.

"Let's just say my family dynamics shifted when I was younger, and it wasn't for the better," he admits, his voice barely audible.

My heart aches for him as I see the pain etched across his face. He's clearly struggled with this part of his life for years, and I feel privileged that he's chosen to share it with me.

"Okay." I nod, not wanting to push him.

I do need to know this, though. We're supposed to be in love. I'm supposed to know him more intimately than anyone else.

He releases a long breath, and his eyes appear glassy for a moment, but he blinks it away quickly. "My parents had a loveless marriage," he begins, his voice low and strained. "For ten years of my life, they were together, but not really. Just… existing. And then one day, my dad walked out and never came back. I haven't seen him since."

I'm shocked by this revelation, my heart aching for the young boy who had to endure such pain. A lump forms in my throat as I try to process the information, knowing I must've judged him too harshly before.

"Charlie, I'm so sorry," I say softly. "That must have been incredibly hard for you."

"It was." He shrugs, his tough exterior returning. "But it also taught me a valuable lesson."

"Which is?" I ask, genuinely curious about how such a devastating event could shape his perspective.

"I push people away because I don't want to go through that kind of pain again," he explains, swallowing hard. "It's easier to keep everyone at arm's length than risk getting hurt."

As he speaks, everything starts to make sense. The walls he's built around himself, the aloof demeanor, even the relentless pursuit of his career — it all stems from a deep-rooted fear of abandonment.

"Thank you for sharing that with me. I appreciate your honesty."

He nods. "You're the first person I've ever told about that."

"Then I'm honored," I reply softly.

As we sit in the dimly lit hotel room, I sense a growing connection between us. We've both revealed our true selves to each other, and it's something that neither of us takes lightly. I realize now that my initial judgments of Charlie were wrong, and that beneath his tough exterior is a man who's just trying to make it through life, like the rest of us.

Knowing that, I can be a better agent for him. Unfortunately, it makes my personal feelings that much more complicated and that much harder to keep at bay.

But I can do it. Just like Charlie, I have to keep my eye on the prize. Keep my head in the game.

As hard as that might get, I know that in the end, the prize will be more than worth it.