22 ⦿ in which i have an almost

Life has a way of throwing a spanner in the works when you least expect it, but Wolfram popping up is just about the King Kong of spanners - enormous, intimidating, and wrecking everything in its path. My feelings on his reemergence in my life aren't something I want to dwell on. Not that Brett gave me that luxury. No sooner had he left then she burst through the door, giving me the evil eye and demanding answers.

Warding off her nosiness was just as exhausting as going for a 10K run in Central Park - it left me winded and irritable. After dealing with her interrogation, I had an uneventful and thoroughly boring afternoon of a salad lunch, calling Dash back with Liza's details, and dealing with two other anxiety-stricken clients who hadn't yet found love - and wanted to blame me for it.

Luckily, grocery shopping calmed my nerves down, and after leaving work early, I had stopped to pick up the week's produce at the market. Arms weighed down with two large shopping bags, I had to do some serious juggling in order to pull my keys out of my purse.

Headache sufficiently obliterating any further thoughts on Wolf, I jimmy my keys into the doorknob and give it a little twist. With a sharp pop, the door unlocks and I enter the two-bedroom apartment I share with my roommate. Overlooking Central Park, 820 Fifth Avenue is not an address I would have been able to afford had it not been for my roommate's generosity in letting me stay in the spare bedroom.

"Honey, I'm home!" I call out, sarcasm ringing through my words. I kick my shoes off in the foyer before heading straight for the kitchen. Before the ice cream can melt, I start stocking the refrigerator with leafy greens, sugary dairy goodness, and cage-free, vegetarian-fed eggs.

"Hey, need a hand?"

I turn, smiling at the man in the doorway. Sparkling, ocean-blue eyes, golden lashes, and a head of hair that would make any Hobbit jealous - Levi looks no different than he did five years ago, except for the wire-rimmed reading glasses perched on the end of his nose.

"Nah," I say, sliding the half-gallon carton of milk into the fridge before sliding the door shut. "I'm done." Then, because I can't resist, "Harry Potter."

"I happen to like these glasses," he defends, scowling at me, but his lips quirk upwards at the corners nonetheless. He snaps his book shut and slides his glasses up his nose. "How was work?" Levi asks, tucking the novel under his arm.

"Um..." I hesitate, not sure how to describe today's level of crazy. "A headache-inducing cesspool of financial quandary."

"That bad?" He chuckles warmly. "C'mon, I'll give you a head rub."

"Levi, you're already letting me live here—" I start to protest, but he's already pulling me towards the living room with determination.

"You're one of my best friends. Was I going to let you be homeless?" He lifts an eyebrow at me, gesturing for me to sit on the square-armed, white twill sofa.

The horror, I think, suppressing a shudder as I sit down and tilt my head back against the stiff sofa cushion. I owe Levi more than I can repay, from his unstinting friendship ever since I left the Netherlands to his generosity in letting me stay with him until I got my living situation sorted out.

"You should at least let me pay rent," I murmur, closing my eyes when I feel the sofa dip next to me. His fingers begin to work their magic on my forehead and temples, easing the day's frustration away with soothing, circular movements.

"You already buy groceries and cook me hot meals even though I keep telling you we can just go out," says Levi, a note of reproach in his voice.

"A girl's gotta earn her keep," I tease, the tension in my forehead fading with each gentle press of his fingers on my skin. "If painting doesn't work out for you, you have a great future ahead of you as a masseuse."

"So droll," he teases right back, fingers falling away.

I open my eyes to find him scrutinizing me. "What?" Self-conscious now, I scooch myself into an upright position.

"Is the money situation with Charlotte's Web really that bad?"

Averting my gaze, I sigh. "Levi."

"I know, I know! You won't accept anything from me, but,"—he shakes his head—"at least let me cover rent this month."

"I had to give up my apartment in order to make rent on my office space," I point out. "I have a perfectly good sofa in my office I could sleep on—and would have continued to sleep on—had you not intervened and moved all my stuff to your place. I'm not going to let you take care of me any more than you already have."

Levi's eye soften. "I really don't mind."

"I do." I stand up, Levi mirroring the movement. "I'm just going to change into something more comfortable and then I'm going to start dinner."

"Fine," he concedes, but I can tell from the twitching pulse in his jaw that he's not happy about it. "Want me to open some wine? A beer?"

"Just water with lemon, please!" I call out as I head out of the living room and beeline it straight for the wide staircase that leads to my bedroom.

By the time I emerge ten minutes later, I'm wearing comfy gray sweatpants and an oversize oatmeal-colored sweater. Levi's sitting at the kitchen counter, glasses squarely on his nose again, reading. He pauses in the middle of his page turn, watching as I scoop my hair into a messy bun at the top of my head. "Need any help, Char?"

"Sit tight, it shouldn't take too long," I reply, grinning. I walk to the fridge and rummage for a moment before fishing out Ziploc bag with a triumphant aha!

"Brown goo in plastic is what's for dinner?" He looks unimpressed.

"It's steak," I inform him, rolling my eyes, muttering brown goo under my breath in exasperation. "It's been marinating since last night." I set the bag on the counter in front of Levi and smooth the meat out so it all lays in a flat line. "See?" The steak flank has absorbed some of the soy sauce, but the dark, sweet liquid still pools around the pink meat. The steak is liberally sprinkled with ginger paste, minced garlic, and a honey-sugar mixture. "Teriyaki steak."

I flick the oven to broil and as it heats up, I carefully remove the meat and set it on a broiler pan. After washing my hands, I pop it into the oven and lean over the counter, watching Levi read while I sip the water he poured for me.

"Did you go to a will reading today?"

His head jerks up and I see his eyes widen behind his glasses. "What?"

I repeat the question, watching his reaction.

"Um, yeah." He lay his book face-down on the counter, his eyebrows drawing together in consternation. "I went before going to the gallery. How did you know that?"

"I saw your brother today," I admit.

"Wolf?" is said with such a tone of surprise that I wonder how many other brothers he thinks he has.

"Yes," I confirm, cupping my chin between the palms of my hands as I rest my elbows on the counter.

"Wait. So he...he came to see you"—he sucks in a deep breath—"about the will?"

"Yup."

I can sense that he knows where this is going, but I want to draw it out of him, partly because I'm perverse, and partly because I'm annoyed he didn't even warn me.

"And he's asked you to,"—Levi looks pained—"marry him?"

"Yup."

"Charlotte! Quit it with the monosyllabic answers." He closes his eyes, looking defeated. "What did you say?"

I know what he wants me to say, but I can't oblige him. Levi is the only person who knows the true extent of everything that happened in the Netherlands. I've never been able to tell Xander what I overheard Graeme and Wolfram saying about me. How it shattered any illusion I had about my friendship with them. Mostly because I knew that it would shatter his friendship with them. And I couldn't do that to my best friend.

I spent the rest of Christmas Eve and all of Christmas Day avoiding the both of them, sticking to my room or Levi's. Those long hours spent with him, learning how to ice-skate on a frozen pond, drinking spiked hot chocolate at the local pub, and lobbing snowballs at each other in the garden set the foundation for a lifelong friendship. There were some traumas you couldn't go through without becoming friends at the end of them. And Wolfram van der Waals was one of those traumas.

After I left on December 26th with Xander to see London and Paris before returning home in the first week of January, I stayed in touch with Levi. Like me, his faith in his brother and sister had been crushed after what he'd heard them say - and I didn't blame him for it.

"I said yes," I admit, chewing my lower lip.

Scandalized, Levi's eyes fly open. "You didn't."

"You know what a total disaster my love life has been since then," I argue. "I need to get him out of my system."

"Your love life hasn't been a disaster because of him," Levi says, his face twisting into an unhappy frown. "It's a disaster because you always find some fault with the guy. Some reason to give up on him."

"Levi, you don't know what it's like!" From behind, the oven timer dings. The steak is done. We both ignore it. "You have no idea what it's like to not feel even an iota about anyone else the way I felt about one person. As much as I hate it, Wolf is that person for me. He's that ridiculous measuring stick against which all boys are measured."

"It must be a pretty short stick," he says, scowling. "He wasn't so upstanding to you, Charlotte, in case you've forgotten."

"I've dated so many guys, Levi, and each time, it takes me a half-dozen dates to feel even lukewarm for them. With Wolf,"—I take a deep breath—"even from that first moment we met, it was scorching."

"Yeah, whatever. Girl meets boy. Boy glares at girl. Girl thinks boy hates her. Such chemistry!" says Levi, sarcasm coating every syllable.

Gritting my teeth, I turn my back and open the fridge. Instantly, the cooling effect calms me down. I exhale, trying to imagine all the negativity leaving my body. Pulling a bag of fresh green beans from the crisper, I dump it on the counter without ceremony.

"Sorry," Levi mutters. "That was harsh."

I don't reply, instead getting a colander out of the cupboard. I pour about half the beans into the colander and run it under cool water in the sink to rinse off any dirt or grit.

"I'm just saying, what happened during Christmas five years ago?"—Levi's eyes beseech mine—"that sounds like the end of the story, not the beginning of one."

"Maybe. But it's just something I need to do." I pat the beans dry and place them on a pan, drizzle some peanut oil over them, and lightly toss the vegetables while turning the flame on. Instantly, the pan heats up and the beans sizzle. "Pass me the sesame seeds?"

"Charlotte," Levi tries again as he gets off the barstool, "have you talked to Xander about this? Or Brett?"

"No way."

"Because you know they'd tell you that you're being an idiot," he says, pulling the little bottle of sesame seeds off the spice rack next to the oven. He presses the bottle into my outstretched hand as I scoff in reply.

"You are," he insists. "I did the same thing. I tried so hard to get him to like me. But at some point you have to realize that nice guys don't win." His lips crack into a smile, but his eyes still look worried. "Or in your case," he adds gently, "girls."

"I know you think I'm a glutton for punishment, but I promise, the second I think I'm in over my head, I'll get out of it," I promise.

He meets my eyes for a long moment, as if trying to figure out if I mean it or not. Satisfied, he finally drags his gaze away, looking at the oven instead. "I'll get the steak."

"Levi, wait," I begin to say, but it's too late.

"Fuck!" he exclaims, clutching his hand against his chest.

"It's hot," I say, realizing how belated my words are. Taking him by the wrist, I maneuver him to the sink and flick it on, sending a steady stream of cool water flowing. "Here," I murmur, taking his hand gently and holding it underneath the water.

"I thought that it would have cooled down by now," says Levi, his voice pained. "Wasn't thinking."

"Don't play with fire, you'll get burned," I mutter under my breath. I know I should release his hand, but I don't want to. Suddenly, I am aware of every breath I take, of how close he's standing to me, of the fact that I can feel the rise and fall of his chest brushing against my back. My heart stutters and I grapple with the impulse to look at him.

Making the decision quickly, I reach out and turn off the flow of water. I'm still holding his hand, which feels warm and solid in mine. Levi's real. He's not the figment of ever-after which I've been carrying around for five years. He's not his brother.

"I could say the same for you," he says.

His voice nearly makes me jump. "What?" I manage to say, watching as his fingers close over mine. I half turn so I can look at his face. It's a face I've seen every day for almost six months, a face which is almost as familiar to me as Xander's and Brett's.

We've had so many almost moments before, but one or both of us always deflected or took a step back before it got weird. Before it went somewhere we wouldn't be able to ignore anymore.

"Playing with fire," he whispers, and my mouth runs dry. "Isn't that what you're doing with Wolf?"

I can't blink, can't look away. "I don't know." Transfixed by the seductive pull of his husky voice and his hand still holding mine, I'm frighteningly honest.

The doorbell rings, piercing into the foggy mist of our almost moment. "I'll get that," I say quickly, pulling my hand out of his. "Put a bag of peas on your hand."

"Yeah," he says, his hand experimentally forming a loose fist before relaxing. "It feels fine now. Thanks."

It feels weird taking the out I've been given, so I hesitate, not sure whether I should answer the door or stay where I am. When the sharp, shrill trill of the bell sounds again, I turn and head for the door.

"I'm coming, I'm coming," I grumble under my breath. "Geez."

Since we aren't expecting anyone and we live in New York, I should probably have looked through the peephole before answering the door, but since I'm still distracted, I swing it open without giving it a second thought.

It feels like everything is crashing down around me.

Wolfram van der Waals is standing right in front of me, shock written all over his face from the small "o" his lips have formed and the widening of his gray eyes. "Charlotte?" he says, his voice losing the composure I've come to expect from him. "I..." he trails off, trying to peek behind me into the apartment, "I thought Levi lived here."

"He does." My voice is hoarse.

"He does?" Wolf tenses.

"Charlotte, the beans are starting to burn!" I hear Levi call out. "Who's at the door?"

Wolfram's face darkens, but he forces a smile to his face anyway. It looks out of place, and I feel my awkwardness redouble. "Domestic harmony, huh?"

"Something like that." I frown at his icy words.

"Well," he says, squaring his shoulders. "Aren't you going to invite me in?"

Author's Note: I can't even begin to tell you guys how much I adore Levi and how much he reinforces my obsession with fictional characters. *dreamy sigh* Okay, Nik's love for Levi aside, I hope you guys really like this chapter, because I sure did enjoy writing it and it maaaay be a little controversial for anyone who is a hardcore Wolflotte shipper, but I hope you like it anyway. :)

I'm zipping my lips about what's going to happen with Charlotte's relationships with Wolf and Levi - but any of you guys have theories? Anyone think Charvi (omg that sounds awkward) will sink Wolflotte's ship?

On another note, I am so close to 6K reads, which I am so excited about! Thank you all so much for reading. Every vote and comment really brightens my day and gets me even more excited to keep writing this story. xox