Brandon's Notebook (A TMMM Bonus Material)

Journal 6: Charlotte-Caused Contradictions

A/N: Hello everyone! I know it's been a while. Sorry for the delay. Lots of things going on for me and I also spent the last month mostly editing TMMM. You have no idea how labor-intensive editing can be. It's not as fun as writing a story from scratch but it's necessary. And despite all the work you put in it, it's still never perfect. 

Anyway, here's another entry from Brandon's journal which covers TMMM's Ch. 5. Another reminder, it's not going to read like a normal scene in a story because it's a 'journal'. Also, I can't add dialogue to this because they would be exactly the same lines in TMMM for the same scenes. Enjoy!

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I had my first real kiss at twelve with a girl from my class named Michelle. We stole into the greenhouse after Math and she let me kiss her. 

I've honestly lost track of the number of girls I've kissed since then. I've lost track of their names, their faces and the memories of those kisses. 

The kiss with Charlotte—wrought with panic when I realized I couldn't stop the one thing I shouldn't have done in the first place—has quite possibly been branded into my memory forever. 

It's been replaying itself in my head so much that there's just no way to ever forget about it now.

I'm good at shaking off distractions though so after a restless night rife with fantasies I shouldn't be having, I went to work early, determined to exhaust the image of Charlotte's dazed blue-green eyes and moist pink lips from my mind.

I made it to nine in the morning before I gave up. 

I called Marissa into my office. 

Other than her efficiency, her incredible restraint at asking too many probing questions is one of her best qualities. 

When I first told her I was getting married to Charlotte, she didn't utter a single question when she knew my schedule like the back of her own hand. If I'd been seeing Charlotte, even for a short time, she would've known. It would've struck her as curious at the very least, especially since she'd been ordering the flowers being sent regularly to Simone and making arrangements when we had plans to go out. 

I didn't want to tell Marissa the truth behind my marriage to Charlotte but I needed her help so I had make sure that she at least understood most of the situation. So I told her I'd met this great but wise-cracking girl but that she's going to need some help because she's not from my world and my world isn't always very friendly to strangers. 

Marissa only broke out of her ever-professional expression when she smiled a little after I told her that Charlotte was a little spitfire who could incinerate you before you could run because you'd be too busy trying to keep up with the litany she was heaping over your head, stupidly hoping that somewhere in the rush of insults you'd find something that could redeem you with her.

I quickly realized after my rant that I had actually ranted but it seemed to have amused Marissa. 

She whipped out her notepad and outlined a list of things Charlotte would need, including a small staff of her own: a personal assistant, a stylist, a personal shopper, a driver, a body guard, etc. 

I dismissed the idea then as ridiculous but after the incident with Barford, I wanted to make sure that Charlotte was armed as best as she possibly could be so that no one would ever dare diss her just because she wasn't packaged up like a merchandise window display at a luxury brand store. It infuriated me that some people would remain careless but if I could limit their numbers to a small margin, the better. Charlotte probably wouldn't have any difficulty handling them on her own—she probably ate her critics for breakfast—but her battles are now mine too.