Today was supposed to be a good day. Wednesdays have always been her good days. Wednesdays were when the sun shined, when the birds sang, when everything was right in the world. So you can imagine Charlie's paranoid frustration when she's forty five minutes late to class, and she's still scrambling to get to campus. She was on the freeway when she realized that she left her final project at Mitchell, her boyfriend's apartment. She makes a U-turn while simultaneously calling his cell phone. When he doesn't pick up, she decides to leave a voicemail, praying that he'll get it.
"Hey, babe. You're probably in the shower, or something, but I left something on your couch. I'm heading back to your place. I'll see you when I get there. I love you." She hung up, and checked to make sure there was no police around to pull her over for speeding.
When she gets to his front door, she sighs tiredly. There was no boyfriend waiting for her. There was no garment bag hanging in the hallway. She knew that Mitchell really hated when she just barged into his apartment, even when most of her stuff was here. Given the circumstances, she thought her actions were justified.
Two seconds into Mitch's front door, she finally understood why he never liked surprises. He was too busy worrying about her stumbling upon the spare girlfriend he kept in the closet.
"Shit, Charlie, what the fuck are you doing here?" Mitch pushed the unfamiliar girl out of his lap.
"I-"Charlie stopped. What does one say when they catch their boyfriend dry humping a large-breasted (probably fake), blonde (definitely fake) who had legs that would make the Human Spider jealous? Charlie told herself to stop admiring the girl; she was the ugliest human being in the world.
"Baby, I can explain-" Mitch started.
"Lemme guess: 'it just happened." Charlie nodded, sarcastically. "Or was it more along the lines of 'it was accident'? Let me tell you something, Mitchell. No one accidentally cheats!"
"Charlie, just list-" Mitchell tried to say again, but Charlie wasn't going to have any of it.
"Fuck. You." Charlie stomped to Mitch's bedroom. She grabbed her overnight bag, and shoved all the clothes she had kept here.
"Charlie, what are you doing," he demanded.
"What does it look like?" Charlie snarled back, as she tried to push past him. Mitchell caught her arm, and Charlie could feel the intense pressure he usually reserved for when he's drunk. Well, at least the blonde had the brains to leave while she could.
"You think you're breaking up with me?" He asked rhetorically. Charlie yanked her arm away.
"Not think. Know." She was two steps away from the door when he pushed her up against the wall.
"Look. Baby, I'm sorry. Let's just work this out. I can, I'll make you feel better. I'll make you even forget about the girl. Baby, please," Mitchell kissed down her neck, and pulled at the waistband of her jeans. It was meant to turn her on, but it only made her angrier.
She shoved him away. "That is the last time you'll ever touch me. I've put up with a lot of your shit, Mitchell! This, this was the last straw. Don't ever fucking come near me again. I never want to see you again."
Even halfway to the stairs, she could hear the crashing of chairs, a coffee table, anything that could be thrown, being destroyed. All the time she was driving way, she was thinking of just how relieved she was. Free.
She was free.
"He could've killed you, Char!" Carrie exclaimed, while struggling to hold onto her squirmy daughter. Charlie shrugged, and continued to drink her whiskey.
"If he did, then, hey, you can have my Jimmy Choos. They're from Ebay, but they're authentic."
"Carrie's right, Char. Mitch can be dangerous when he wants to be," Lawrence, Carrie's fiancé, chimed in from behind the kitchen island.
Charlotte gave him a look, "Laurie, you're a bartender: they're supposed to listen, not talk."
Lawrence stuck his tongue out at her, and Charlie reciprocated. Carrie pursed her lips, and shook her head.
"What, I'm still alive, aren't I?" Charlie raised her hands, in a what-can-you-do way.
"Char, you are so crazy," Carrie exclaimed, but smiled. Over the years, she's learned that if she takes it nonchalantly, everything that Charlotte did that makes her worry doesn't seem so bad. She's still not sure if that's right, though.
"Enough about me," Charlie smiled, "how's the planning going?"
Carrie smiled happily. "Good. Lawrence and I have decided that we don't something to big. Just a small-ish ceremony. The maximum amount of guests we want is about one hundred, but it's probably not going to be that much."
Charlie nodded, "Have you picked out your dress yet?"
Carrie suddenly got a funny look on her face. It was a cross between guilt and excitement.
"Yeah, about that. I was wondering if I could ask you a favor."
"Of course, you can! I'm your maid of honor." Charlie exclaimed.
"Okay, so I was thinking… I would like to wear one of your designs." Carrie ended her sentence with a questioning tone.
Charlie's stunned look turned into complete affection. "Really?"
Carrie nodded excitedly. "Absolutely! You know I've always loved your designs. Besides, you'll give me a discount, right?"
Charlie pretended to think about it. "Well, I don't know…"
A flying ice cube hit her on the cheek, and she laughed. "So have you decided which one you wanted?"
Carrie smiled shyly, and nodded. "The Laswell."
A/N: Okay, so that was the first chapter of my story. Hope you liked it. Rate, review. Do whatever you'd like.