Susan Mallery - Summer Nights

“So you wanted to have your way with Shane,” Charlie said. “Big deal.”

“I didn’t,” Annabelle protested, then dropped her fork. “Fine. I did. But I can’t. He’s teaching me to ride.”

“So? He’s a good-looking single guy. Last time I checked, you were single. What’s the big deal? He’s not a relative or your priest.”

“No, but…” She picked up her fork again. “This was easier when I worried he’d been dropped on his head.”

“Excuse me?”

“Never mind.” She took a sip of her iced tea. “All I wanted was to learn to ride well enough to do the traditional dance of the female warrior. It’s not a big dream, I know, but it was mine.”

“You’re still going to learn to ride. Shane will teach you. And if you’re very good, he’ll show you his manroot.”

Annabelle burst out laughing. “His what?”

Charlie grinned. “Okay, better. I couldn’t stand seeing you all depressed. You found a guy who probably thinks you’re hot. You want him. That’s good. Quit beating yourself up over that.”

“Manroot?”

“I read it somewhere.”

“I don’t think I want to ask where.” Her mood restored, she took a big bite of her salad.

Charlie was right. So she found Shane attractive. Lots of guys were. As to the tingles, she would think about them. Sure, he was a little too hung up on his ex, but that was all about passion, right? As long as he was totally over her. Because a man capable of that much feeling was the kind who put it all on the line.

“You’re about to launch into a recap of your pathetic love life, aren’t you?” Charlie picked up her burger. “Not every guy is your ex.”

“I know. No recap, I promise. This despite the fact that I married Lewis. I dated him, I trusted him, I thought I fell in love with him and I agreed to spend the rest of my life with him.”

“Are you sorry you left?”

“No. Of course not.”

Lewis had been older, by twelve years, a somewhat successful, nearly famous author. He’d impressed her with his intelligence, his worldliness. He’d traveled everywhere, had lots of interesting stories. He was always the center of attention, so when he noticed her, she felt special. Wanted.

But she’d discovered that Lewis’s stories were more fiction than truth and that while he seemed to know about many different topics, his information was superficial at best. He’d personified the concept of all flash and no substance.

“It took me a long time to figure out he wasn’t what I thought,” she admitted. “That he never really loved me, he loved what I represented.”

“The trophy wife?” Charlie asked dryly.

“A little. Which is strange because he was always telling me that I was lucky he’d married me. That no one else would want me.”

“Have you looked in the mirror?”

“Not lately.”

“You should.”

Annabelle smiled. “You’re a good friend.”

“I know. You should be sending me gifts and tweeting about my virtues on a daily basis.” She picked up a French fry. “We all have secrets.”

“What are yours?” Annabelle asked, not expecting an answer.

Charlie shrugged. “It was a long time ago.”

Annabelle stared at her. “Want to elaborate?”

As a rule, Charlie didn’t talk all that much about her past. Annabelle knew that her friend hadn’t grown up in the area. That she was from somewhere back east. There had been hints of a difficult mother and a father who had died unexpectedly. But little else.

Charlie took a deep breath and seemed to steady herself before answering. “I was date-raped in college.”

Annabelle’s stomach clenched and the small amount of food she’d already eaten lurched threateningly. “No,” she breathed. “I’m so sorry.”

Charlie shrugged. “It happens.”

“No, it doesn’t. That’s awful.” She didn’t have a lot of experience with the topic and wasn’t sure what to say. “Do you want to talk about it?”

“No. Yes.” Charlie rubbed her forehead. “This is why I don’t usually mention it. It’s done and over. Only I can’t seem to move on.”

She drew in a breath. “I went on a date in college with this really good-looking guy. He played football and was a senior. The whole cliché thing, right? But I didn’t see it coming.”

Annabelle winced. “You thought he really liked you.”

“Exactly. Instead, he was using me for sex. Things went further than I wanted and when I tried to stop him, he raped me. I was a virgin and it was horrible.”

“Did you report him?”

Charlie’s mouth twisted. “Oh, yeah. I went to campus police and they brought him in. I was smart enough not to shower. There was DNA evidence.”

“Then I don’t understand. If you had proof…”

Charlie looked past her. “They didn’t believe me,” she said flatly. “I heard him talking to the cops. He actually laughed and said to look at me, then look at him. Was there even one person who wouldn’t believe I’d have to be begging him before he would put out?”

She returned her gaze to Annabelle. “The police had called my mother. When she showed up and met him, she came and told me it was rude to lead a guy on. And that I shouldn’t lie about something like being raped.”

Charlie’s expression never changed. Except for the tension in her mouth, there were no hints that something was wrong. Only Annabelle could guess the truth. That Charlie had been devastated, as anyone would be. But her pain had been worse because no one had taken her side and those she trusted most had thought it was a joke.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered.

“Yeah? Me, too.” Charlie picked up her burger, then put it down. “I keep telling myself it was a long time ago. That I’m over it. And I am. Sort of. But it’s why I don’t date.”

“You’re afraid to trust anyone.”

“A guy,” Charlie corrected. “I trust my female friends.”

Annabelle raised her eyebrows. “And yet you don’t want to date any of us.”

Charlie grinned. “You offering?”

“No, but I could ask around.”

“I’ll pass.”

“You haven’t dated at all since the attack?”

“A little. But it never goes anywhere.” Charlie’s smile faded. “It’s not like guys are lining up to ask or anything.”

“That’s because you make sure they know you’re not interested.” Annabelle turned the information over in her mind. “So you haven’t, um, you know, done it since?”

Charlie shook her head. “Why would I want to? It was horrible. Everything about that night was terrifying. It’s not like I miss it, right?”

Only her tone was slightly wistful.

Annabelle touched her hand. “You’re the strongest person I know, Charlie. And the bravest. You can’t let that jerk win.”

“He’s not.”

“Yes, he is. You’ve shut off an important part of yourself because of him. Maybe you don’t want to get married and have a family, but at least you owe it to yourself to find out. There are plenty of nice guys out there.”

“Do you see me with a nice guy?”

“At this point, I think it would be a very good idea.”

“He’s not winning,” Charlie repeated, but she sounded less sure. “I refuse to let him win.”

“Better,” Annabelle told her. “Have you thought about talking to a professional?”

Charlie rolled her eyes. “Therapy? Hardly. I’d rather take out my issues on a punching bag.”

“Or the guy in question?”

“He’s not worth it.” Charlie sighed. “You’re right. I’ve ignored what happened for years. I guess I need to work through it or something and move on.”

“How can I help?”

“You’re doing it just by listening. Thanks.”