The Other Woman |Charlie Barber x Reader|

~The Hotel~

You hated having to lie to Ophelia. Naturally, she was curious when she asked you to come over for movie night and you had to reject her. Ophelia being, well, Ophelia, had practically interrogated you, insisting that she knew you were going somewhere with a man because of the 'look on your face.' Though she would be correct in assuming so, you had to lie to her nevertheless.

It was surprisingly difficult having to explain where you were going that would require a suitcase and two nights of travel. Eventually, you settled on telling her that an old friend from high school needed some help moving. A pitiful lie, but you had panicked at the time and just blurted out the first thing that came to mind.

She had helped you pack, to your dismay. Clothes, a swimsuit, pajamas, undergarments. You were forced to shove a few lingerie sets to the bottom of your bag while she was digging through the bathroom. By the time she returned, you had stuffed everything else inside and hastily zipped it up. Ophelia didn't question you when you insisted on taking a cab; she had no more reasons to be suspicious, in your opinion.

So here you were now, heart pounding in your rib cage and palms sweaty, leaving Ophelia behind as her figure grows smaller and smaller. The taxi driver winds through traffic, his recklessness doing nothing to aid your untamable nerves.

You fiddle nervously with your purse from the back seat, eyes roaming over your surroundings as you fidget. The very idea of sneaking around with a married man behind his wife's back was enough to put you on edge. Now you were going to have to face him in a hotel room just meant for the two of you. So much could go wrong. What if someone saw you? What if Nicole miraculously found out?

She was far away on the other side of the country in LA; you should have had nothing to fear. Yet, you couldn't stop your leg from bouncing. Your nerves seem to be infectious. The taxi driver glances through the rear view mirror, his suspicions spiking as your head moves on a swivel.

"Everything okay, miss?"

He was stunningly friendly for a cab driver in New York. They had seen enough shit go down in their back seat; it was kind of him to take notice of your jittery limbs.

"Yeah," you give him a weak, unconvincing smile. "Just nervous, I guess."

He nods stiffly. "Meeting someone special at the hotel?"

"You could say that."

The driver doesn't question you further. You didn't know whether or not you wanted him to. Perhaps you just needed something or someone to help put your mind at ease. Someone that wasn't Charlie Barber. Yet.

Images of the city glide by as the taxi maneuvers through traffic and busy intersections. From the back of the cab, you nervously play with your hands in your lap. You silently wonder if this interaction with Charlie would be different than the rest. Saying the two of you got along perfectly was a lie, but perhaps it would be a little different now. No obstacles or barriers. No tension.

A part inside of you couldn't help but feel guilty about all of this.

You have to remind yourself that you weren't taking him from his family; he was staying behind no matter what. For work and for leisure. The inner therapist within you figured he desperately needed a break from it all. You didn't blame him. Family life was tough. Especially in the midst of a crumbling marriage and a young child beginning to understand the world around him.

The taxi swirls to the side and comes to a sudden halt at the sidewalk, coaxing you from your daydream-like state. You hastily thank the driver and slide his cash through the slot in the clear screen. You scoop up your overnight bag and take a deep breath, willing yourself to calm down.