The One Where I Made the Call (And She Pretended It Meant Nothing)

Charlie

I stared at my phone for what had to be the tenth time that hour.

No missed calls.

No new texts.

No angry voice note screaming at me for being a piece of shit.

Nothing.

Carly Dorrington had mastered the art of silence, and I was cracking under it.

I hadn't planned to call. Hell, I didn't even plan to think this hard about what happened. But here I was, sitting in my office like a man who had committed a war crime—not just invited a brunette with touch-me tits and suck-you-dry eyes to his place.

What the fuck is wrong with me?

I finally hit call. It rang once. Twice.

Three times—

"Hey, Charlie," Carly's voice slid through the line like a warm smile I didn't deserve.

I sat up straighter. "Hey… I—uh—about yesterday—"

"Oh," she cut in, her tone as breezy as spring air. "Yeah, I had something urgent to take care of. Had to leave quickly. Sorry about that."

She lied. And she was so smooth about it, it actually hurt.

"…Right." I scratched the back of my neck. "But… why'd you go home?"

There was a short pause. I could practically hear her thinking.

"Oh, I made up with my dad. Figured it was time, you know?"

Another lie. One that sounded way too rehearsed. She could go home anytime she wanted and we both knew it. But here she was, pretending she didn't walk into my penthouse and see another girl's panties on the floor.

"I texted your mom," I said, trying to sound casual. "To check if you got home safe. Mrs. Dorrington—uh, Amanda—said you were sleeping."

Of course she had lied to her mom too. Amanda Dorrington loved to gossip. If she knew what really happened, I wouldn't even be having this conversation.

"Mhm," Carly hummed. "Yeah. Got in, knocked out right away."

More silence.

I could hear her breathing. Soft and steady. And for some reason that made me want to punch a wall.

"Okay," I said, because I didn't know what else to say. "I just… wanted to check in."

"Aww," she said, light and chipper. "Thanks. That's sweet of you."

And then she hung up.

No dragging it out. No giving me a chance to apologize. No yelling. No tears.

Just a chirpy thanks and the dial tone.

I stared at my screen, heart crawling up my throat.

She was fine. Completely, perfectly fine and somehow… that made it worse.

I wanted her to scream at me. To ask who the hell that brunette was. To call me a dog, a whore, a jackass. Anything. Something.

But Carly Dorrington had chosen kindness.

Kindness.

The exact kind that cuts deep because it means she saw everything—and decided I wasn't even worth a reaction.

And now? I didn't know what the hell to do.

Because the guilt?

The guilt was fucking eating me alive.

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To be continued...