The Society | Completed

Part 36

"Charlotte, I broke my vow," Conrad splutters down the phone.

"No, you've said that twice, and I still don't know what you're talking about," Charlotte yawns, curling her hair.

"I slept with him," she whisper-yells, and Charlotte almost drops her curling iron.

"Who? Carlos? Or Atlas? Who, Conrad, you need to explain," Charlotte shouts frantically, her jaw dropping open.

"Carlos, I slept with Carlos," she squeaks, leaning against the back door with one hand to her head.

"Where the hell is he? Why did you do it? I thought you were doing your weird celibacy thing," Charlotte gawps, and Conrad groans aloud, going over to where the kettle is boiled.

"No, I was, I have been for almost, what? Two years? Goddess, that's a long time," Conrad breathes, pouring the water into two separate cups, the smell of coffee filling the room from the grinder beside them.

"Why did you sleep with him? Why him, again? How did he make you break your little vow?" Charlotte groans, completely lost.

"I don't know! He didn't expect me to; I think that's why I did it. Jane is so shocked she hasn't spoken in twelve hours," Conrad hisses into the microphone, cursing under her breath as some of the water spills onto the counter.

"Goddess, she must be doped. Was it that good?" Charlotte laughs, and when Conrad remains silent, Charlotte gasps.

"You bitch! Seriously? I am so jealous," Charlotte groans, and Conrad rolls her eyes, wiping up the spilt water.

"Hey, I'm allowed to. I don't have a mate," Conrad points out.

For once, she doesn't feel the twinge of sadness in her stomach or chest, which causes a smile to spread across her face when she realises.

She catches sight of herself in the window reflection and gasps, nearly dropping her phone.

"What's wrong?" Charlotte asks in concern.

"My neck! It's covered in hickeys," Conrad whimpers, hurrying to the mirror in the hallway.

Her hair is a total mess, she's dressed in just his pyjama top, and her neck is purple.

"Yeah, okay? He probably felt like a teenager again, sleeping with someone he shouldn't. You'll live; just put ice on it," Charlotte shrugs, trying not to laugh at Conrad.

She had always been the more sexually conservative of their group, something they all respected. Conrad was picky with who got inside of her, and it was a running joke that she was going to die celibate.

"Marcy will lose her shit; she had a bet that you'd have cobweb vagina until you were at least twenty-eight," Charlotte crows, a grin on her face.

"Charlotte, don't joke about that! It's not funny! He's my boss, in case you've forgotten," she whispers, walking back into the kitchen.

"Con, it's just sex, relax! If you regret it, that's okay. But you're allowed to have sex with whoever you please," Charlotte lectures, and Conrad smooths the space between her eyebrows with her fingers.

"I don't regret it. That's the problem," Conrad groans.

"Why is that a problem? I wish you could explain your brain, because I don't get it," Charlotte complains, shaking her head as she continues doing her hair.

"Because I genuinely like him! I don't want to fuck it up; he's my friend and my boss," Conrad tries to explain, getting frustrated as she does.

Before Charlotte can reply, Conrad tucks some of her hair behind her ear, pouring milk into the coffees.