The One Where Her Door Was Still Open (Barely)"

Charlie

I felt like a douchebag.

Oh wait—

I was a douchebag.

Certified. Engraved. Shiny gold plaque and all.

No amount of pacing in my overpriced penthouse or drowning in guilt on my thousand-thread-count sheets was going to fix this. And I knew it. Amanda Dorrington knew it too—and she didn't even try to be polite when she told me what to do.

"Go fix this, Charlie. Now."

She didn't say please and frankly, she didn't have to.

I stood in front of Carly's house—our childhood house—with my heart in my throat and a knot in my chest. I shouldn't have driven here. I shouldn't even have the nerve to show my face after everything. But there I was. Knocked anyway.

Three short knocks.

Then silence.

Then footsteps.

Then the creak of the door.

Her voice came soft, weary, laced in exhaustion I had no right putting on her.

"Mom, I'm really not hungr—"

She froze.

"Oh. It's... you."

Fuck.

I deserved every ounce of that shock in her tone. Every bit of it. Her eyes widened, then narrowed, and then softened—like even she didn't know what face to wear when I was the one standing at her door, all broken and desperate and full of apologies I should've said sooner.

"Can I come in?" I asked, voice low.

She didn't answer. Just stepped aside.

Her room hadn't changed. Still the same familiar scent of vanilla and something warm I couldn't name. Her desk was tidy. Bed made. Except for the pillow—slightly puffy like it'd been cried into.

And above it all, that ceiling—

The same one with the glow-in-the-dark stars still stuck up there from when she was ten.

Little constellations of comfort. Frozen in time.

Just like everything else I'd taken for granted.

Damn it.

"I'm sorry," I said.

Then silence, the quiet heavy kind.

"I'm serious, Carly. I know you don't want to hear it, and you're pretending you don't know what I'm apologizing for, but—"

"I really don't," she cut in, arms folded, her voice almost breezy. Too breezy. "You brought a girl home. That's not new. Why apologize for being... you?"

Ouch.

"I didn't think you'd come back so early," I muttered, rubbing my neck.

She blinked. "Oh. That makes it better."

"No—I mean—ugh." I sat on the edge of her bed, head in hands. "Carly, I didn't mean to hurt you. That's the worst part. I didn't think. I was being stupid, and selfish, and... scared."

"Scared?" she asked.

I looked up at her. Really looked at her. Her eyes were puffy. She wore an old hoodie I'd once left behind in college. Her fingers were clenched like she was holding herself together one knuckle at a time.

"Yeah," I breathed. "Scared. Because you know me. I flirt. I mess things up. I don't commit because I'm afraid I'll ruin something good. And you, Carly—you're the best thing in my life. And I thought if I just... kept you in that friend box, I'd never lose you."

Her throat bobbed.

"But now?" I said. "I'm ready. Or at least, I want to be. I want to try. With you. If you'll give me another chance."

Her eyes welled. She blinked fast, trying to hide it but I saw.

God, I saw.

She didn't rush to hug me. Or kiss me. Or forgive me. She just stared, voice hoarse.

"If I say yes," she whispered, "you don't get to hurt me again. You don't even get to look at another girl."

I nodded, fast, desperate. "Never. You're it for me, Carly. Always have been."

Her shoulders dropped like she'd been holding the weight of us for too long.

She sniffled once. Then again. Then stepped forward, eyes glinting.

And then?

Punched my arm.

"That's for making me cry, asshole."

I laughed. Choked, actually. Because I think I was crying too.

But then she smiled—brightly, tearfully, that kinda smile that makes you believe in second chances. She crawled into my lap like we hadn't wasted days avoiding the ache between us. Her arms wrapped around my neck and her lips brushed my jaw, soft, forgiving.

"I missed you," she whispered.

"I never stopped missing you."

And for the first time in days, we both exhaled.

Maybe this wasn't the end of the storm.

But at least now, we were in it together.

---

To be continued...