Out of My League

{21} The Plan

Charlotte's POV

"Time's up!" My professor called as I reluctantly placed my pencil on the desk. Despite the crazy night before, the test had gone way better than I'd expected. My developing love for psychology was mostly responsible for that. Months ago I'd decided that a future in medicine was a little too hard to handle, but a major in psychology seemed very appealing at the moment.

"Charlotte?" my professor called. "You going to stay here forever, because I'm ready for a break right about now." 

I laughed, embarrassed to realize I was the only one left in the classroom. "I'll be right out sir."

As I was packing up my textbook and papers a familiar figure materialized in the doorway. "Lemon?" I asked incredulously.

"Howdy Charlotte!" she called. She was sporting a pair of blue sunglasses with two drinks in hand. "I got you a pumpkin spice latte, your favorite."

"How in the world did you find me?" I asked, taking the drink gratefully from her.

"There's only one psychology department in Columbia, and I got a little help from Chloe," she admitted, wincing as the bell rang loudly. "I figured you could use a pick me up after your big test. You're welcome by the way."

I laughed. "Thanks Lemon, you're sweet. But don't you have class right now?"

"Nope, maybe in 3 hours," she replied. "But I've got to talk to you about something crazy."

"I like crazy."

Lemon rolled her eyes. "Do you know of any places to eat nearby?"

"In the middle of New York City? I think so."

...

We sat together at a local cafe, Lemon munching on a chocolate muffin. I tried not to think about what she confessed to me yesterday in her dorm. She was clearly not in the right state of mind then for me to be taking her words seriously. 

"What are you thinking about?" she asked, gazing at me curiously.

"I was wondering why you didn't get the lemon poppy seed muffin," I teased.

"I missed your jokes," Lemon said. Honestly, I couldn't tell if she was being sarcastic or not.

"And I missed your unfaltering optimism," I shot back.

"Thanks, it's my specialty." She smiled at me genuinely, making her freckles dance across her face. Then she shook her head as if to push away a thought and cleared her throat. "I thought about what you said last night about that butt-head hurting someone else."

"Still trying not to swear, after all this time?" I teased.

"Shut up," she said, failing to conceal the faint smile forming on her lips. "The reason I'm meeting with you out of the blue like this is because we can't let that happen."

"I agree," I replied. "But without Skylar's help, I don't know how we'll accomplish it."

"I know," Lemon said, sighing. "But things are still a bit shaky between us, and I don't want to mess it up more."

I nodded. "So what exactly are you thinking?"

"I was thinking, if we can't get someone to testify against he-who-must-not-be-named, then we just need to create our own."

"I'm lost," I admitted.

"Okay, so right now it's just my word against his," Lemon explained. "But what if we could make it his words against his?"

"Like a recording," I continued, realization creeping into my voice. "You want to record him hitting on somebody else."

Lemon nodded in confirmation. "And I think it should be you."

"Me?" I asked with disbelief.

"Yes you," Lemon continued. "You're calm under pressure and you definitely would make a good candidate for his new client."

"Lemon, I crack under pressure. You know that," I protested. "And what makes you think I'd make a good candidate?"

 "You're kind of pretty, okay," she shot back.

I sighed in surrender. "Fine, I'll do it. But only because I want to watch this perv go down. And you got me a latte."

"Awesome," Lemon said, smiling widely. Her smile faltered slightly as she remembered something. "I'm sorry about that voicemail I left. I honestly don't know what I was thinking. I still want and need you in my life, even if we're just friends. Us Washingtonians have to stick together, right?"

"Of course," I replied. "Don't worry about it."

"About last night, did I say anything noteworthy?" she asked, her eyes filled with apprehension.

"Not at all," I reassured her.

Lemon's POV

Stepping into Charlotte's apartment, I was reminded of the first time I'd entered her house in Washington. It was spotless. Any evidence of her past struggles was completely gone.

"Impressive, huh?" Charlotte asked, laughing.

"Definitely," I answered. She smiled at me appreciatively.

"Just so you know, there's soda in the fridge if you want," she offered. "Or lemonade."

"What even?" I said, rolling my eyes in annoyance. "I think it's time you dropped the puns and put your writing skills to the test."

"Me, writing?" Charlotte asked in confusion.

"We need a reason for you to meet with he-who-must-not-be-named, don't we?" 

"I know," Charlotte continued. "But I haven't done creative writing since the third grade. I'm awful at it. Why can't you?"

"He's an experienced publisher. Despite his nasty and immature behavior, he's studied writing for decades. He'll be able to decipher my language and style at a glance. That's why you have to do it," I explained. Charlotte agreed reluctantly. 

I watched as she opened her laptop, staring absentmindedly at the screen in front of her. "You got this Char," I encouraged her. "I'll be back in a bit," I said, wanting to give her some space.

As I walked around the block, I realized how insanely crazy my plan was. I had every confidence that Charlotte could do her part flawlessly, but what if he found out? He wasn't stupid, and I could be putting her in imminent danger.

When I finally entered Charlotte's apartment, she was waiting for me, laptop in hand. "I have something, it's not much though," she admitted.

I took the computer from her hands gently, and began reading the freshly-typed words. 

All I can see are those eyes. Those blank, unseeing eyes. They remain ingrained, written in permanent ink on my mind. They haunt my dreams and are present in my waking thoughts. I run, I hide, but I cannot escape the damage her death has caused me. Like a magnitude 10 earthquake, the immensity of her death strikes, and there will be no survivors.

I felt my heart race as I read the rest of the emotional narrative on the death of her mother. Pain, suffering, and hope within every paragraph.

"Wow Char," I said in amazement. "This will work."

"Yeah?" Charlotte asked, her voice full of emotion.

"Yeah."

Charlotte looked at me, a determined expression on her face. "We got this."

I nodded in agreement. "Archibald Stevens here we come."

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A/N: I wanted to thank all of you for supporting me and my writing. I just realized I am currently at rank #1 for lesbian stories, and honestly I'm still in shock. I'm still 99% sure the guys at Wattpad had a calculation error because that's crazy. Of course, I couldn't do it without you! :)

-Emily