Year 18

-Chapter 11-

Charlie and I meander through the party, doing our best to keep to ourselves, our hands clasped together, our heads ducked low. Nothing between us is certain right now except for the fact that maybe we both don't want to be here. Charlie runs his thumb up and down my knuckles as we walk, servers again offering us champagne. This time Charlie and I both turn down their offers. I look around at the many party goers who are so intoxicated they have had to leave the dance floor for the haven of chairs or benches. Some are still dancing, though the dancing has gone from waltzes to random sluggish movements.

  "Thank you for sparing me that embarrassment," Charlie says, also surveying the room.

  "It was your doing, I just offered a suggestion," I shrug, offering up a small, probably less than convincing smile.

  "In my book, your suggestions are law."

  We keep walking, doing our best to avoid the elbows of the dancers on the dance floor as we walk by them. Much like the last time we were here, the dancers, the longer they are here, are starting to dance more sluggishly, their dancing more loose than it was during the waltz. One woman to my right falls to the floor, laughing hysterically, and this ignites the room into a flame of laughter. Charlie gives me a look, only further proving his gratitude. He looks embarrassed for the woman, probably remembering his own actions when we were here before, the way the champagne had loosened his tongue, clouded his mind.

  I feel a hand slip into mine, expecting it's Charlie's until I notice him ahead of me, stopped by a woman who is laughing, telling him something she finds to be humorous. I pull my hand away before even looking to see who has grabbed it.

  "A woman such as yourself shouldn't be left on her own," It's Paul, his eyes jovial, the glass in his hand empty, and tilted as though it's heavy, or as though he's had too much to drink.

  "I think I can handle myself," I scoff, upset that I can't escape, upset that I don't have the option to run off and just be alone for a few minutes. To be able to relax for just a few seconds. "And what is that supposed to mean, a woman such as yourself?"

  Paul is less leering as he puts a hand on my shoulder and despite my body screaming to pull away, I don't. Deep down I still hope that the Paul that has been there for me the past few weeks was real. That it wasn't all just for show. "You're viewed as a criminal for one, and look at you tonight. You look beautiful, Felisha. I know I'm probably the last person you want to hear that from, but it's true and you need to hear it."

  "Thank you," I can't bring myself to smile, "I think that I'll be alright. I'm here with Charlie."

  "Charlie, who is off talking to other women?"

  I look to where Charlie had just been a minute ago and see he's not there. I follow Paul's gaze and see Charlie across the large room, talking to a group of women, all more than a little intoxicated.

  "He's trying to fill a void," Paul says, "and if that's how he chooses to do it, so be it. We're all just trying to figure life out right now. And isn't that what everyone's trying to do? Fill the emptiness, the gaping holes that have formed over time? I don't know, maybe Charlie has the right idea."

  I roll my eyes, "Paul, he's just hurt, mainly by what I said. And he's smarter than we give him credit for sometimes, he'll make the right decision."

  "We, huh? We're still a we Felisha?"

  I clench my jaw. "A habit. I still want to be able to trust you Paul. I wish you'd give me a reason to."

  "Well, maybe this will be a start." Paul walks away for a moment to a group of Agents that have formed nearby, one breaks away and walks over, removing his helmet. Cullen. Paul smiles, and then walks away, the other Agents following him.