Clara Carter

"Going on a date?"

I turn at the familiar voice of Aston. I smile and put my phone inside my purse so I can attend to him. My short pleated black skirt and brown woolen jumper must have given him the impression. My feet encased in black boots, and my hair let loose that reaches my waist.

I shrug. "Yeah, finally found someone who can deal with my mood swings and tantrums."

Aston joins me on the sidewalk while he waits for the traffic light to turn red and I wait for Mr. Date.

I had no idea I liked Monday dates until today. Just finished my work hours at the repair shop and changed into this outfit in the washroom. Punctuality is my thing. . . apparently.

"Who's the guy?" he asks.

"A wannabe rockstar with tattooed arms and pierced eyebrows and lips."

The parting of Aston's lips with shock amazes me to no extent.

"Just kidding," I push him on the shoulder to break his statue reaction. "A junior at my university. Sweet and softie at heart, gentlemen in behavior."

Aston visibly relaxes as I complete my sentence.

Although Mr. Date possesses more qualities like good at sports and mental maths. The only son of one of the riches in the city. A total boyfriend material.

A black roadster pulls in front of us. The dusky complexion, warm amber eyes with light brown hair caressing his face greets me from behind the wheel.

Brett Stanton.

His beautiful ear-to-ear grin brightens my already happy mood.

He steps out and rounds the car to come near me.

"Hey, there." I sigh at his whispery, deep voice as his arms wrap me in a soft hug.

"Hi, Brett." I whisper back.

He spots Aston scanning him from head to toe. I decide to not make it awkward for any of us and quickly introduce the two men to each other.

"Aston, this is Brett. Brett, this is Aston at whose shop I work."

Brett respectfully nods and extends his hand. I patiently wait for them to exchange a few civil words.

"Take good care of her. You'll have to answer me if I see her hurt, okay?" With a gentle punch to Brett's arm, Aston warns him.

"That would never happen." Brett replies. When I turn to look at him, he is already smiling down at me.

I stare at his beautiful face, flashing an even more beautiful smile, and I wonder why a guy like him has a crush on me.

My university friends told me about it-the way he always looks down at his feet before starting a conversation with me, and how his smile never fades when he's with me.

He asked me out two times before this but it took everything inside me to say yes this time.

It is harder to let go of the past than I thought.

"Shall we, Ms. Clara Carter?"

A chill crawls up my skin. Before it could trigger any emotion in me at the mention of my name that way, I say, "Of course."

And that's when I know-I'm never getting over Stefan.

I lock the car and take a close look at it, satisfied with the work I had done with the Mercedes-Benz C class. It's my first time working on a high-priced vehicle. But I am pleased that I completed the task perfectly.

I look around the office and see no sign of Aston, who is probably still out delivering cars. Since the person in charge of automobile deliveries has taken the day off, Aston has committed himself to the task, leaving the entire shop on my shoulders.

I wipe my hands with the cloth and put on my wristwatch as a daily ritual before leaving the office. Today's weather is dark and cloudy, which I've grown to despise subconsciously.

"Excuse me?" Someone behind me calls, "I'm here to collect my car."

My eyes fall on the register on the table in front of me. I quickly scan for the Mercedes-Benz delivery timing and discover it at 6 p.m., which indicates it must be the car owner standing behind me.

"Yes, I know." I take the keys from the hook on the wall, where I had just set them a few seconds before. "We repaired the brake paddle that-"

My words clog in my throat. All air rushes out of my lungs. Those eyes that have always reminded me of a long-lost friend stare back at me.

I bite my lip to stop the flow of memories from escaping through a sob and tilt my head in amusement.

"Hi, bae."

A beautiful grin curves his lips. I run straight into his arms, unable to stop myself.

He hugs me tighter, lifting me off the ground. God, you're heavy."

I slap him on the shoulder and laugh through the tears welling in my eyes. My heart melts with happiness at finally seeing him after so long.

"How are you, Charlie?"

He holds my gaze, revealing every emotion he is feeling. It's no joke to run into someone I had no idea mattered so much to me. I'd forgotten how much I missed his silly smile and laughing eyes.

Charlie looks exactly the same as he did four years ago. The same round face, short black hair, and lean build. He hasn't changed a bit.

It's the clothing style that amazes me. The light-colored T-shirts and ripped jeans are long gone, replaced by tight-fitting grey trousers and a black formal shirt.

"Happy." He answers, sighing as he eyes me up and down. "And you look. . . broke."

That cracks me up. Anyone would believe I'm broke if I'm to go out wearing such dirty clothes. Glad that I didn't ruin Charlie's expensive-looking ones.

"Yeah," I nod, resisting the urge to ask several of the unanswered questions. He waits patiently for me to come up with the words.

"You live here?" I start with the most obvious.

"Not really," he answers, "Opposite side of this part of the city. I own a few clubs there. What about you?"

"Well, I live here-" I motion around, "-in this part of the city."

He doesn't waste any time in asking, "Why? Why did you leave Aerilon?"

"I can ask you the same."

That creates an agonizing silence between us. I'm still not sure what went wrong, or why they had to leave unannounced.

There are no records of Stefan Peirce studying at Aerilon University whatsoever, nor are there any records of Charlie Eastwood.

"Where have you been?" I finally ask, unable to wait for him to speak up.

He stares at me, not feeding my curiosity right away.

"That's not the question you want to ask, Clara."

He reads my mind, so subtly for my own lagging mind to interpret. I look down at my feet.

"Why did you guys go?" I look back at him. "What happened?"

My phone vibrates in my pocket, signaling an incoming call. I suppress my impulse to curse the person who interrupted me after seeing Mom's name flash over the screen. I ignore it and put it back in, not in the mood to talk to her just yet.

I need some answers.

He runs his hand through his hair, betraying the pressure of having to respond. "I shouldn't be answering that."

I frown. "Well, Charlie, I don't see anyone around here who can answer my damn questions."

"Whoa. Calm down, woman," he pursues his lip before adding, "You know whom to ask."

Briefly startled, I take a step back. "What do you mean?"

"You know exactly what I mean."

"No, I don't." I play fool. Charlie doesn't react to my obvious 'play dumb' act.

Am I supposed to agree with the gut feeling I'm having about the person he's talking about?

"He's here?" I murmur, sounding pathetic.

He nods, causing a familiar flutter in my chest.

"He's here." Charlie repeats after getting no reaction of surprise or shock from me, carefully decoding my motionless face. "Want to see him?"