The Last Virgin Standing

Chapter 22: Swinging with the Enemy

Dedicated to Samsam_Maynard for winning the Beckett Award in the one-shot competition.

Chapter 22: Swinging with the Enemy

Since I cut Emma and Luke off, I realized that I really have no friends. Sure, there were those people that you talk to at school if no one else is around, like they're better-than-acquaintances-but-less-than-friends, but I had no one to actually hang out with. I still sat with the same people, aside from Luke, who sat with his other friends. Emma and I just didn't make eye contact; or rather I just avoided it. She made a few attempts to apologize, but I told her that I just needed time to think about it and let it sink in.

I spent my weekends and free nights (which was basically every night because I really had no life) either alone, texting Ian, or lounging around with my dad. Tonight, Ian said he was going "out," but I suspected that he was staying in because little Ian was getting lonely without some action. So I spent the night with Dad watching reruns of Full House.

"Uh...Charlotte?"

I looked up from watching the ceremony of Stephanie and Harry's wedding. "Yeah?"

He nodded towards the table where my feet were perched. "Either our coffee table is possessed or someone's trying to call or text you."

I laughed and glanced at my phone vibrating and shaking the table in tiny trembles. Flashing on the dimly lit screen (I liked to conserve my battery) was a picture of Tyler in poor quality. It was slightly blurry because his hand was moving in to cover his face. Getting that picture almost cost me my life. Apparently Tyler didn't like his picture taken. Ever.

"Aren't you going to answer that?"

"Uh...yeah." I picked up the phone and held it to my ear. "Hello?"

"Charlotte?" His voice was strained and slightly husky.

"Yeah, that's who you called."

"Can...I was wondering if you wanted to talk?"

"You...you want to talk?" I've never heard of a guy who just wanted to talk over the phone. It was usually them asking if I wanted to hang out and then we would. Texting, Facebooking, actually any kind of social interaction that involved typing was usual, too. But verbally over a device that wasn't webcam? Now that was nearly obsolete for people our age.

"I...sorry," he mumbled. "I knew this was a stupid idea. It's just that you said that I could call whenever I needed to talk—" He was babbling now, I could tell.

"Tyler, that offer still stands. What's wrong?"

"Well...it's just that...you know how I told you that my mom left me?"

I nodded, but then realized that he couldn't see me.

"Charlotte? Are you still there?"

"Oh, sorry! Yeah, you told me."

"She...she didn't leave us willingly," he said softly.

"Did your dad scare her off?" I returned in an equally soft voice. I felt like I was walking on eggshells.

"I guess you could say that."

"Tyler, why are you calling me instead of your mom? Don't you have her number?"

"No..."

"I bet we could get a hold of it. I'm sure she's in the phonebook—"

"Charlotte, they don't have a number for heaven!" he interrupted. His voice was quiet, yet powerful all at the same time. I wasn't sure if it was the tone he used to silent me or if it was the news he brought.