CHARLES

They talked.

They actually, really, totally talked in real life! They had a conversation! Their second ever! Charles was over the moon, practically skipping down the hallways. And bonus, Lucas looked extra adorable that day. He was wearing an oversized fleece hoodie that looked so soft, Charles had to physically restrain himself from running his hands over it, paired with black jeans that hugged his hips just right, and his Doc Martens. It was a look Charles realized he liked on Lucas quite a bit.

Lucas looked that cute, and Charles managed to talk to him.

Okay, so he got two words out. And they were a little gruff because he was nervous and embarrassed. Maybe he looked like an idiot. Oh, God, did he? Did he say the right thing? And he hadn’t apologized for lying to Lucas, either, back when he said he wasn’t gay.

Not that he was ready to admit it out loud, anyway.

Charles kept replaying the conversation over and over in his head. The next time, though, he ran his fingers over Lucas' sweater. He stepped closer and whispered sweet nothings in Lucas’ ear that he would never have the confidence to say in real life. He imagined those Doc Martens—soft and powerful, and what it would be like if Lucas stepped on—

“Aughts! Hey, Aughts! Wait up!”

And like clockwork, the fantasy was gone in a poof of shame and regret. Charles stopped walking, letting Motts catch up.

“Hey Motts. Haven’t seen you all day. Who is the unlucky lady?” Motts and Jazmine had split already, which wasn’t surprising to Charles in the slightest. But, whenever Motts disappeared from Charles’ side, it was usually due to a girl. Though Motts wasn’t exactly a fan of the serious thing, his flings never seemed to last long.

Motts blushed. “No one! I’m offended. Do you think the only thing I think about is girls?” He hid his face momentarily, and something in his tone was off, but Charles let it drop because Motts didn’t seem too keen on sharing.

Charles shrugged. “Yeah, pretty much.”

“Well, I resent that.” Motts tilted his head to the side. “You good there, bro? Your face is doing something weird.”

“My face? Is there something on my face?” Charles touched his cheek as if he could feel whatever was making him look weird. How long had it been there? Was it there when he talked to Lucas? He would have to crawl into a hole and die if that were true.

“No, you’re smiling.”

Charles clamped his mouth shut and pressed his lips into a thin line. He huffed and turned away, continuing his path to fourth period. Damn, Motts got him all worked up over nothing. “What, I can’t smile now?”

Motts rushed to catch up. “It’s not that, but it’s rare.” He paused. “Do you have a girl?”

Charles sighed and shrugged again. “Not really. I guess. I don’t know.” There was no harm in telling the truth, right? Motts was his best friend, after all—and pretty much the only person he cared about on this Earth. It didn’t feel right lying to him, even if Charles did keep some details to himself.

“You guess? So, there is someone?” Motts jumped a little excitedly, swinging his arm around Charles’ shoulder and pulling him close. “I can’t believe it! After a year and a half of single life, you’re finally getting back out there! I’m so proud!”

Charles shoved Motts away, frowning. “Don’t be all happy yet. I was rejected.”

Motts’ face twisted in confusion and disappointment. “Oh. Then why do you look so happy?”

Charles sighed and awkwardly raised his shoulders. “Well, I guess we’re still talking. As friends. It’s… nice.”

Motts let out a surprised half-laugh-half-scoff. “Oh my god. You’re whipped. The famous Charles Aughtly is completely whipped. How did she manage to do that?”

Charles gave Motts a shove. “Fuck off. I am not.”

Motts grinned, not even budging at the shove. He was built like a brick house, so that wasn’t surprising. “You so are, dude.”

Charles fell silent, huffed, and pushed past Motts to keep walking. Was he? Was he whipped? He did like Lucas a lot. Like, bordering on more than simple crush levels of a lot. But it wasn’t like he could act on his feelings, ever. So maybe he wasn’t? He didn’t know.

Charles walked past one of the classrooms, a simple sign catching his attention from the corner of his eye. He paused, glancing at it swiftly to take in the bold lettering: FIRST GSA MEETING TODAY @ LUNCH!

There was one way to know for sure.

One way to find out how far Charles’ feelings had grown.

To: luckyinlove666@gmail.com

From: charcharbinks@gmail.com

Subject: Whipped

Lucas,

My friend thinks I’m whipped.

Respectfully Yours,

Binks

To: charcharbinks@gmail.com

From: luckyinlove666@gmail.com

Re: Whipped

Binks,

Whipped? Why? And I keep telling you to call me Lucky.

Respectfully Yours,

Lucky

Charles huffed a laugh at his phone, walking down the empty hallway to his destination. He would be missing one of his classes, but whatever. He would make up the work later, and it wasn’t like his teacher would call him out–given who his father was. It was eerily silent as Charles moved through the lockers and snuck past the classrooms with teachers yelling at their students to settle down.

To: luckyinlove666@gmail.com

From: charcharbinks@gmail.com

Re: Whipped

Lucas,

He caught me smiling earlier today. I don’t smile.

And I can’t call you that. I haven’t earned it.

Respectfully Yours,

Binks

To: charcharbinks@gmail.com

From: luckyinlove666@gmail.com

Re: Whipped

Binks,

He thinks you’re whipped cuz you were smiling? That’s kind of hilarious. Who made you smile like that, oh mysterious Binks?

It’s only a nickname, babe. You don’t have to earn it.

Respectfully Yours,

Lucky

Charles’ breath caught in his throat, and his heart did one of those little skips. Babe? Babe? Did Lucas really, seriously call him babe?

Charles’ mind flooded with questions, buzzing with excitement and dread that couldn’t be separated.

On the one hand, it felt like flirting, which was crazy. On the other, it felt like flirting, which was terrifying.

Charles had stopped moving in the hallway, and it took a minute to shake himself off. The few minutes he had spent emailing Lucas felt like an entire lifetime–and Charles could almost see a future that ended with them together.

He started walking again.

To: luckyinlove666@gmail.com

From: charcharbinks@gmail.com

Re: Whipped

Lucas/Lucky,

I’ll give you three guesses, and the first two don’t count.

Respectfully Yours,

Binks

To: charcharbinks@gmail.com

From: luckyinlove666@gmail.com

Re: Whipped

Binks,

Just Lucky, darling. None of this Lucas/Lucky stuff. We’re friends.

Was it me?

Respectfully Yours,

Lucky

To: luckyinlove666@gmail.com

From: charcharbinks@gmail.com

Re: Whipped

Lucas/Lucky,

You should feel lucky you’re getting this much from me. And, of course, it was you.

Respectfully Yours,

Binks

To: charcharbinks@gmail.com

From: luckyinlove666@gmail.com

Re: Whipped

Binks,

Did we talk today? Where? When? Are you finally telling me who you are? I’m dying to know, Binks, dying.

Respectfully Yours,

Lucky

Charles bit his lip, finally looking up to gauge how close he was to the classroom. Maybe this was a bad idea. Maybe he shouldn’t go to the meeting. Maybe he should have gone to class, but then again, the class he had after lunch was taught by the GSA's advisor. So, he would just be getting to class really early.

To: luckyinlove666@gmail.com

From: charcharbinks@gmail.com

Re: Whipped

Lucas/Lucky,

Hell no. It’s my secret little moment. But we shared it, and, at the risk of sounding corny, that’s all that matters to me.

Respectfully Yours,

Binks

Charles made it to the classroom, but there was still some time before the first bell. He pressed his back against one of the concrete walls and took a few steadying breaths. His phone buzzed, and he used Lucas’ email to ground himself.

Lord knows he needed it.

To: charcharbinks@gmail.com

From: luckyinlove666@gmail.com

Re: Whipped

Binks,

Meanie :P Don’t worry, I won’t push you. But keep up the corny, half-assed flirting, and you might get somewhere.

Respectfully Yours,

Lucky

To: luckyinlove666@gmail.com

From: charcharbinks@gmail.com

Re: Whipped

Don’t tease me, Lucky.

Respectfully Yours,

Binks

A hint of a smile played on Charles’ lips before the ringing sound of the first bell cut through the air. The door swung open, and a flood of students rushed out. Getting into the classroom felt like swimming upstream.

Only after he managed to get into the classroom did he realize what a stupid mistake he had made.

How was he supposed to be anonymous in person?

Charles looked around desperately for something–anything–that he could use to hide. His eyes caught on a flash of red in the back of the classroom, and he spotted an abandoned hoodie in the back row of the room. The teacher, Mr. Hernandez, hadn’t noticed him or the hoodie, so it seemed like a good bet.

People would be streaming in any minute, and the clock's ticking weaseled its way into Charles's head, so he rushed to the back of the classroom, pulled on the hoodie, and grabbed his headphones from his backpack.

Maybe if he looked like he was sleeping, no one would question his true motives for being there.