Chapter Three

Chapter 3

"Charlie? Charlie! Get up!"

Charlie groaned as the roughened voice of her roommate, Angela, pierced the lovely dream she had been having. It involved black curls and blue-green eyes.

"What do you want, Angie?" Glancing at her bedside clock, her eyes narrowed. "It's two in the morning!"

She heard the girl grumble through her door. "I'm doing you a favour, you git. You told me to wake you every two hours. For your concussion, remember?"

Charlie groaned again as her head hit the pillow. The concussion. Of course.

"Right, yes thanks for waking me. Sorry for snapping at you. I'm fine. You can go sleep now."

She grumbled again. "Yeah, I'll be back at four. Night."

"Night."

She closed her eyes again, eager to return to her dream, but sleep wouldn't come. She hated when this happened. It seemed that whenever she wasn't allowed to sleep, her body would surrender itself to the beckoning arms of unconsciousness, but when it actually had the chance to rest itself, it went and did things like this.

Huffing in frustration, Charlie closed her eyes, imagining sheep jumping over a low fence. She counted them as one by one they escaped their confinement, curious if this actually worked for people. When she reached one hundred and four she gave up.

Growling at her inability to sleep, she sat up and rubbed her eyes, flicking away the tendrils of hair that had escaped her ponytail and had gotten into her face. This was going to be a long night. At least Benedict would be happy to know, if she ever got the chance to see him again, that she wasn't slipping into a coma. God, quite the opposite.

She groaned out loud. Words weren't necessary, as no one was around to listen. She flopped back onto her pillows, sighing as a slight pain whistled through her brain. The headache hadn't disappeared, despite the heavy painkillers. Benedict had insisted that she take two as soon as she reached her flat.

Benedict Williams.

Now that had been an interesting addition to her life. Not an actual physical addition per se, but an interesting memory to have. Closing her eyes, she thought that she could smell the scent of the innocent baby if she concentrated just enough.

# # #

Earlier that day

"Where did you say, again?" Benedict asked, confirming her residence.

"Barking, if you don't mind," Charlie said, cringing at what he must think. Of course she would be living in Barking out of all places. Yes, it was better than other parts of the city, but it wasn't Mayfair or Hyde Park. Not that she could even dream of staying in such posh parts—the rent would cripple her.

Speaking of rent, Charlie now had no job. No job equalled no money to pay, and how she loved her apartment.

Renting it had been a decision full of desperation and a cry for independence in her I-have-successfully-reached-proper-adulthood phase almost two years ago. Turning twenty-one had seemed so fun then.

The two-bedroom flat had been miraculously available at a reasonable price, if she could get someone to room with her. Lucky for her, Angela, with whom she had schooled, had also decided to fly the coop, so to speak. There had been no looking back after that.

Benedict leaned forward to confirm the address with the driver and waited for him to start the car before leaning back. The movement snapped her out of her thoughts and she sighed at the way the car purred under her making her sigh in contentment. It was such a luxury compared to the tube that she normally took.

Snuggling her nose into Michael's curls, she pondered her situation. She was being driven home in a luxurious Beemer, with a baby in her arms and a gorgeous man next to her but it was such a fairytale that she wanted to cry. She had lost her job, her body was wracked with aches and she was sure that she'd look like a kickboxing participant the next day. She had nothing to smile about today, yet her mouth tugged at the corners.

Apparently noticing her twitchy lips, the actor, eyes still on the road in front of them, addressed her. "What's so amusing?" he asked.

A half-sob, half-laugh escaped her lips. "Nothing." Seeing his raised eyebrow, insistence slipped into her tone. "Honestly, nothing. In fact, everything is so not amusing that I should be crying!"

"Yet you want to smile," he said, admiration clear in his voice.

It wasn't a question. It was a statement, as if he knew what she was thinking, which he obviously didn't. She didn't owe him any explanations, so she kept silent.

Sensing her discomfort, Benedict changed the subject, saying, "Thank you again, for Michael. I feel like I need to thank you over and over again until you and I both get sick of it and even after that."

Blushing, she closed her eyes and snuggled deeper into the warmth that was Michael.

"Please don't thank me. I reacted on instinct. It could have been anyone."

"But it wasn't, was it? It was you. I feel like I owe you an explanation for what hap—"

"No!"

Startled at her outburst, his gaze swung to look at her.

"No?"

"No. I mean, you don't need to explain anything to me. He's a child, Mr Williams, and they tend to do things like run around and ignore the adults around them."

"Call me Benedict, please. My kid is only two. He's not my grandchild you know. Mr Williams is my dad."

She smirked at the line. "Yes, I know."

He threw a quick smile at her before saying, "Where exactly in Barking?"

"Minter Road."

He nodded and watched the driver turn right, the ease with which the car moved thrilling her.

"I'm sorry about your job."

"It's not a big deal, really," she lied.

"Liar," he said, a frown etched into his forehead. "What job did you lose, anyway?"

"I was a waitress at Coffee etc," Charlie said mournfully. It was never a thing to be proud of and her parents used to harp on at her to get a real job, but it paid the bills and that was what mattered.

He nodded and asked, "How long had you been working there?"

"Almost three years now. Before, when I was still in university, it was just part time but when I graduated the year before last, I started full time. Study loans, you know?"

He nodded as if he understood, and for a second, she wondered if he really did. He couldn't have always been rich and famous, right?

"What did you major in?"

She sighed, remembering the fun that she'd had studying. Studying in itself was not fun, but when one did what one loved...

"Writing and publishing."

He glanced at her in surprise. "Really? That's fantastic. Creative then, are you? Not so different from me."

She laughed. "Oh, hardly. I'm currently unemployed, fired from a job that had nothing to do with what I wanted and struggling to make ends meet. You, on the other hand, are successful. Directors are probably throwing themselves at your feet, begging you to accept their offers. Plus, you're doing what you love. I do not see any similarities."

He chuckled, his eyes twinkling with mirth as he glanced at her for a split-second before his tunred to look out the window.

"It wasn't always like that you know, Miss Adkins." His tone was far off and slightly sad.

"Charlie," she muttered, trying to bring him back from whatever memory was pulling at him.

"Sorry?"

"If I have to call you Benedict, you have to call me Charlie."

"Not Charlotte then?"

Her head whipped to face him, causing a twinge of pain. The baby in her arms moved around a bit before settling back in and quietening down.

"How did you even know my name anyway?"

He smirked, as if she was being obtuse. "Really, Charlie? It's called ID. When you got knocked, the first thing the paramedic asked for after bundling you into the ambulance was your identification. Your wallet has your licence and Uni card."

"Yeah but—"

"Charlotte Rosalie Adkins, born in Denver on the twenty-first of September in 1990. Female, obviously, no eye sight issues. British resident. Nice picture, by the way. And why do you still have your Uni card?" All said in one breath, recited as if it had been imprinted in his brain.

"What the—"

"Sorry, couldn't help remembering. A sharp memory helps in the film industry, you know?" The amusement in his voice was doing a good job of calming her down.

"I cannot believe that you saw my Uni card picture. Currently it has placed number five on the ugliest pictures to be taken. Ever!"

"Only number five?"

She gasped in indignation as he burst into a fit of laughter, rocking forward before leaning back again.

"Just kidding. It really wasn't that bad. I've seen worse. At least you looked like you'd only lost two nights of sleep and not a week." He broke into laughter again as she huffed out a breath in ire. It should have been mortifying; this strange man who she knew yet didn't, joking about her horrid weed day. And yes, she had been high for what would be the first and most definitely the last time in her life and she had been without sleep for a few days before she'd had her picture taken. It was better not to speak about such times.

Before she could reply however, they turned into her street. "Oh, you live in the Leslie Hitchcock house. A friend of mine used to live here." The car rolled to a stop in front of her building and looked up at it. "Not a bad place. Safe. That's good."

She peered up at him, wondering what was going through his mind. Michael wiggled in her arms, interrupting her study.

"Da'y?"

The little whimper escaped from the child's lips as he opened his huge eyes that shone just as blue-green as his father's.

Benedict leaned towards her, a smile bright on his face, his love for his son shining in his eyes. "Hey, kiddo. You all right?"

The child looked at his father drowsily before turning his head to look at the woman holding him. His eyes opened wide and he lifted a small chubby hand to her face.

Charlie's heart stopped. The innocence in his gaze gripped her heart and she was finding difficulty in breathing. She kissed his pink palm as it touched her lips, then slipped her tongue out to tickle the middle of it. Her baby cousins used to love when she did that.

Michael whipped his hand back with a squeal of laughter before stretching his hands out towards his father to take him. Benedict was so close that his male scent was invading her senses. What with the child in her arms and the handsome actor so close to her, she was surprised that she still held on to her consciousness.

The man scooped his son up and hugged him to his chest, almost squeezing him, before dropping a kiss onto the child's forehead, much to Michael's delight. He settled in contentedly, fists tight in his father's shirt and pulled at the already taut buttons.

Yanking her gaze away from the man's chest, she blinked up only to find him already looking at her.

"So I guess you're home?"

She nodded numbly before unclipping her seatbelt and opening the door.

"Thank you for the drive."

She was about to step out, her face heating up in embarrassment for how she had been staring, when she felt a burn on her arm. Glancing down she saw that the actor had leaned over again and had stopped her by touching her elbow. Touching, that was all! And she felt like he had branded her.

"Look after yourself, yeah? Take two pills as soon as you get in and have a long nice rest. Demand that your flatmate wake you every two hours please. For your own health?"

He looked like he was begging her and that was so odd. She would probably never see him again in her life, except in films obviously, but he looked as concerned as one of her friends would. It was thrilling.

She smiled and got out of the car, letting his arm drop to her seat. "Yeah, of course I'll take care. Just pray that I get a job soon or some company responds to my CV or something, yeah?"

He nodded at her and smiled, white teeth flashing even in the weak January sun.

"See you around then?"

He said it like a question but leaned back into his own seat without waiting for an answer. He was still watching her though, his gaze so serious, as if he was searching for her soul's secrets. She nodded dazedly and closed the door before turning around and dashing into the foyer of the building, his stare burning into her back the entire time.

# # #

See you around?

As if they even moved in the same social circles.

As if she was going to pop up at one of his fellow actor's house parties and she'd see him and he'd come over and greet her with a, "Long time no see."

She scoffed. What a ridiculous thing to say. See you around.

Why was she getting her knickers in a twist about it anyway? It wasn't like it mattered. What mattered was that her excitement quota for the year, nay, her life, was accounted for and now she could to return the normalcy of what was really The Diaries of now-jobless Charlie Adkins.

She sighed and turned her head into her pillow, breathing in deeply and wondering how long she'd have to hold the pillow over her face before she died of asphyxiation. Before her thoughts could turn more morbid, she heard a knocking.

"Charlie, wake up."

Was it four already? Glancing at the clock, she realized that it was and almost cried in frustration.

"Yeah I'm up, Angie. Thanks again."

"You're doing my washing for the next two weeks. I don't need your thanks. Night."

"Night," she replied, smiling, despite the fact that yes, she'd had to bribe her roommate to wake her every two hours.

The things people did for health.