Enemies to 🔥Rom com
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Charles Winston Mayer-Chaz-is your typical trust fund, never gonna grow up playboy. His carefree bachelor existence is filled with women, money, and limited responsibilities in NYC is interrupted by the untimely de...
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I can't deny feeling some pity for him, knowing myself exactly what it's like to desperately wanna get away from where you're from. Sick of the labels people slap on you because of your upbringing. Turns out rich kids feel it the same as poor kids... I guess.
I had moved from the West Coast all that time ago—two years after I left my alcoholic and neglectful parents. One's who couldn't have given a damn if I passed or failed in life. If I went to college, ever became anything. When I'd turned eighteen and could sign a lease, I was out.
But then, the day I got that call, I headed for the East Coast.
I never looked back.
I do my best to conceal the look on my face. I hate that shit. Chaz and I are fairly similar in that way. He didn't bring me here—didn't tell me this—so I'd be sorry for him. He did it to let me into his life, giving me more and more insight into him.
Trusting me.
And I trust him, but...
There are just some things I can't tell him. I can't tell anyone.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
I didn't meet William—Bill, to me—until Blaze was a couple of months old. That chance encounter at the diner where I had worked changed the entire course of my life. But as long as I'd known him, he never once seemed the type to be about younger women, or really anyone—except for maybe Alice. It was hush-hush.
His wife died prior to our meeting. I was drowning, busting my ass, struggling to make ends meet, trying to care for a baby when I was only twenty. College wasn't in the cards for me—nothing was.
Bill had become a regular, always requesting the same order, consistently giving decent tips. We got to know each other. When he'd asked about my plans for the future and I admitted I didn't have any, he told me about his company's scholarship program.
Knew some people, pulled some strings. I wasn't the type to take charity, didn't need him to feel bad for me. I chose the situation. You make your bed; you lie in it. Bill had reassured me that sometimes people simply want to do nice things, that there doesn't always have to be a hidden agenda.
He had only wanted to help.
And the rest is history.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
We sit out by the river, watching the water flowing—making me completely forget about the hustle and bustle of the city right behind us. I'm in between Chaz's straddling legs. His arms wrapped tight around my waist while his chin lies on my shoulder, stubble prickling through my shirt.
It's relaxing. Nice. Normal.
As if the world has stopped for a little while. I never thought I'd feel this way about someone, especially not him.
