sweet baby jesus this book has like no conflict at all it's basically just a piece of fluff rolling around and around in a puddle of filler chapters, and I feel like there's no proper character development or anything at all, don't mind me I'm just whining.

also I totally suck at kissing scenes, I'm so awkward.

Also this is dedicated to CutiePieAmy because she made me a wonderful cover that totally blew my head up like a balloon! :) thanks bb (she made me like ten billion and they're all adorable)

Chapter 36: Sour as the Grinch

I didn't have time to even react the words Lottie had said before she sprang off my lap and held her hands to her mouth, looking horrified. My eyes widened in confusion. She didn't say that. She couldn't have said that. "Pardon?" I asked.

"I-I...uh, I'm-ah-" She restarted her sentence too many times to count, and then frantically back-pedalled, moving to the door.

I got to my feet, and felt my heart plummet to my feet. She was in love with me? Then why did she look as if she wanted to throw up?

"Lottie," I said. I started to walk towards her, but she held up her hands. I stopped abruptly. A flicker of hurt pricked my chest.

"I'm sorry," she whispered. She rubbed her face and looked at me with forlorn eyes. "York is a lovely place and I'm very glad for you. Plus, Uni of York is a really good school," she continued. "Don't mind me." A proud smile grew on her face, and it irritated me because the one time somebody ever looked proud of me was the one time I didn't fucking want it.

I furrowed my eyebrows. The muscles in my arms tensed in complete and utter annoyance. How exactly was she able to look so genuinely happy for me, but at the same time look like I had just fucking stabbed her through the heart?

"You turned off the cooker, right?" she asked when I didn't respond.

"Yes," I said through clenched teeth. I heard the blood pump in my ears, and knew that my expression was growing steadily darker.

Lottie didn't notice, because she'd turned her back to me and ran away. What was she doing?

I stalked out of her room with my back flat as a board and my hands shaking from the effort I was going through to not punch the nearest thing I saw. I stopped at the entrance of the kitchen, slightly out of sight, and spotted her leaning against the fridge. She had her eyes tightly shut, and then took a deep breath and stood upright.

I edged back and leant against the back wall, tipping my head back. She could bounce back so easily when I couldn't. I felt like there was a spidery, metal-fingered hand wrapped like a band around my chest, making it hard to think.

Did she even love me? The doubt started creeping into my mind.

Fucking fuckity fuck fuck.

How could I claim I loved her when I questioned her like that? She was just being regular, selfless, considerate Charlotte Carter.

And I had never hated it more.

I wanted her to be selfish. I wanted her to ask me to stay, because by now, I'd do anything for her. I didn't want to go to York. I liked my classes at Manchester. I liked my apartment and I liked being near Clark. Mrs Wallace needed me to take care of Queenie. I wouldn't be staying just for her, but I needed some push.

I stepped quietly into the kitchen, where Lottie had her head down, quietly peeling potatoes on the island counter. I swallowed and strode over to her, slamming my hands on the counter opposite her. She jumped and glanced at me. Her eyes didn't have that sparkle in them, but she still managed a smile.

Fucking Lottie. Jesus Christ.

"Tell me what you want," I said, staring at her. Her eyes crinkled at the corners and she looked away.

"I want to finish making this chicken pie," she said primly.

That just pissed me off even more. "Tell me what you want, Lottie," I said in a quieter voice. I saw panic in her expression, and I frowned. I had just told her my entire life story. I thought she'd understand that I couldn't handle any more abandonment. I thought she'd understand that what I wanted was her.

"I want to finish making this chicken pie," she repeated, not meeting my eyes.

I blew out in frustration. "Lottie," I said, just short of a plea. Could she hear my underlying message?

Did she want me? Or did she want me to leave her?

She bit her lip. "I want you to go wherever makes you happier," she said quietly.

I watched carefully as she gathered up the peeled potatoes and dumped them into a pot of boiling water, and then as she grabbed a box of puff pastry from the fridge. I looked at my hands and swore under my breath. She affected me so much, and she didn't even realise it.

Lottie looked so small standing near the stove with her shoulders hunched like that, and it made me deflate. "Ask me what I want," I dared loudly.

She paused. "What?"

"You told me to do what made me happy, but you never asked me what I want." I walked towards her as I spoke.

Her shoulders slumped even more. "Look, Ben, I know I'm not that great, but that's kind of a mean thing to ask me to do, you know?"

I took her by the shoulders and gently turned her around. "Ask me," I said.

She sighed, and it took her longer than normal to cover up the sad look on her face. I didn't like that I'd put that sadness there. "Ben, what do you want?"

Instead of answering, I moved my hands to cup her face, and I bent down, kissing her. She stilled for a moment, and then I moved one hand to her curly hair and she melted. Her hands held tightly onto my hips, and I felt the spatula she'd been holding press into my skin.

I moved her away from the stove and pushed her against the island counter, wrapping my arms around her back and pulling her closer. She squeaked into my mouth, and every sane thought flew out of my head and I lost it, and all I knew was that I was kissing Charlotte Carter. I could feel her heart rocketing around in her chest just like mine, and it made me happy because I wasn't the only one affected.

"I love you," I mumbled in between kisses, but it was faint and garbled and I didn't think she heard me.

She finally broke it off and rested her head against my chest. I heard her heavy breathing, and the sound made me smile smugly.

"I don't want to go," I whispered. "And you should've known that."

I felt her shake in my arms, and I tightened my grip. "I shouldn't have said anything, I'm sorry," she cried. "I'm sorry, please, just go, I know you want to!"

I leant my chin on her head and internally cringed at her behaviour. She shouldn't have said she was in love with me? Was she serious? "I don't want to," I said flatly. "I literally just told you that, so stop questioning me."

"But it's such a good opportunity," she said. "And your dad-"

"I don't give two shits. He'll get over it. I'm starting to think you don't want me around." I frowned. I hoped she wasn't just trying to get rid of me in the nicest way possible. It was Charlotte, after all, letting down men in a way that they couldn't even tell.

"That's not it," she whispered, and I believed her. She hid her face against my chest, so her next words came out muffled.

"What did you say?" I asked.

"I love you," she said shyly, hesitantly. It made my heart ache - the good kind of ache.

"Can you look at me and say it?"

Lottie peeked up at me. "Do you promise that you don't want to go to York? Do you promise that your dad won't act like a...thing anymore? I don't want to be the reason you hold back," she said. Her eyes were big and curious and guarded.

I could see her reserved excitement, and that excited me. "Yes I promise. I'm not sure about my dad, but he'll get over it. Archer's the one who's into the whole business scene." She searched my face for a minute, her eyebrows furrowing in concentration. I knew she was trying to figure out if I was lying or not. I wasn't lying. "You're not holding me back, Lottie, you nutcase."

Lottie's hands let go of my waist, and she tossed the spatula behind her. Then she looked at me long and hard, contemplating something. "I love you!" she exclaimed, jumping up to hug around my neck. Like before, her legs wrapped around my waist and I gripped her tightly. She laughed bashfully, the sound warm and light and happy, and I couldn't help but grin.

I made her happy, and the feeling of that was indescribable.

"I love you," she said again, and laughed some more. "I am in love with you." Every time she said it, a little thrill shot down my back. Not to be arrogant, but quite a few girls had told me the same, but they never meant it. But with Lottie, sincerity seeping out of her tone, it made me feel different.

But fact that she was almost one hundred percent willing to blow me off just because she thought I'd be happier without her slightly worried me. Lottie would never fight for me if it meant making me happy, but she made me happy. I didn't think she knew that, though, but she always thought she knew best about what made people smile the most.

"Don't assume what will make me happy, Lottie," I said firmly. "You always choose the thing that isn't you."

She looked up and smiled, and the dead look was gone. Her thousand-watt beam was back, and I couldn't help but bend down to kiss her again. I loved kissing her.

So...what did that make us?

Had I even told her I loved her yet?

Wait, did I?

Oh fuck, what must she be thinking?

"Lottie," I started, but then stopped at the sound of splashing water and hissing.

Lottie's eyes widened and she let go of me. "The potatoes!" she cried, running over to turn off the heat.

I scowled and crossed my arms. Those fucking potatoes.

She used a hand towel to take hold of the pot of potatoes and drain it in the sink, and then grabbed this weird spoon thing that wasn't really a spoon but was some sort of mashy thing. I'd seen Clark use something like it before. "Do you want to mash the potatoes while I make the pie?" Lottie asked hopefully. She didn't even know how impossible it was for me to say no when she scrunched her nose like that and squinted her eyes.

I took the mashy spoon thing from her hand and stared at it while she fumbled around in some drawers for a pie dish. There was a little metal grid at the bottom that I assumed was for crushing the potatoes. "How do I...?" I muttered to myself, twisting the thing in my hand. Was I just supposed to go for it?

Lottie popped up from behind the counter and watched me with confused eyes. "What are you doing?" she asked.

"I have no clue, to be honest."

She stood up and showed me how the weird spoon mashy thing worked. "It's pretty simple. Make sure there's no lumps, okay?"

"Okay."

I held onto of the pot handles and slowly pulverised the steaming potatoes, my hands becoming wet from condensation. My eyes were trained on Lottie, however, as she bustled around and assembled the pie. I badly wanted to tell her how I felt, but I really didn't know how. As cheesy as it sounded, I'd never felt anything this before for anybody in existence. There was just something about her that had sunk deep into the holes in my chest and filled them up - however fucking weird that sounded.

It was a strange feeling, and I didn't know what to do with it. I didn't even have the excuse of rejection. She'd already said she loved me.

Cue stilling of heartbeat.

I thought back to the cake nestled in the icebox in my car. Tomorrow was her birthday. I could give her the cake and the other thing I'd gotten for her, and maybe figure something out for that?

Lottie peeked at me from over her shoulder, and her smile softened when I winked at her. "You doing alright, Ben?" she asked.

I looked down at the contents of the pot and nodded. "Yup, looks pretty mashed to me."

She abandoned the pie without folding the puff pastry on top and came to admire my work. "Sweet!" she said happily. "Lemme just put in the milk and butter, and then we can put salt and pepper."

I watched as she dashed some milk into the pot and then grabbed a stick of butter from the fridge. "How much should I put?" she mused to herself. She cut off a decently sized chunk and threw it in. "Now mix it, Benny!"

I obeyed while she cracked some black pepper and sprinkled salt into the mashed potatoes. My stomach growled and I frowned. "I'm hungry."

Lottie spooned out some of the potatoes. "Try some," she urged, offering the spoon to me.

Instead of taking the spoon from her like she implied, I bent down and let her feed me. My insides glowed when I saw her amused expression. "More pepper," I said.

"I'm home!" we heard, and I stood upright. Lottie jumped and moved away from me just as her dad came wandering into the kitchen.

She waved to him. "Alright, Papa?"

He nodded, and when his eyes turned to me, I smiled politely and asked him how he was.

"Well, dinner smells lovely. Thanks for helping Charlie out, Ben."

"It wasn't an issue."

We both looked over at Lottie, whose face, for some reason, had turned bright red. I raised my eyebrows, and she coughed awkwardly, avoiding our eyes.

Mr. Carter smirked. "I take it I'm not wanted here? Don't worry, I'll just be watching some footie in the living room. Call me when it's time for supper!"

Oh sweet baby Jesus, now my face was red. "What's wrong with you?" I asked her, wondering what exactly was going on in her mind.

She ignored me and finished making the creases in the pie shell, and then put it in the oven.

I rolled my eyes. "Do you want me to lock you in the loo?"

Lottie laughed. "Don't be stupid, it locks from the inside."

She just called me stupid. Lottie had just called me stupid. "Rude," I muttered, hiding my amused smile. I watched her for a while, and for just a moment, her lighthearted expression dropped. I frowned. "What's wrong?"

Lottie didn't reply, just smiled reassuringly at me. I didn't feel reassured. I wished she wouldn't do that.

I took her hand as she walked by to grab the potatoes. "Would you please stop doubting me?" I asked. I spilt my whole heart to her, and she still didn't believe me?

"I'm not doubting you," she argued. "I just don't want to be the reason you don't go to such a good school and fix things with your dad."

She really was too good for me.

I tugged her gently towards me and wrapped my arms around her in a bear hug. She pressed her face into my chest and breathed deeply. "As lovely as you are," I said. "You're not the only reason I'm staying. Should I feel responsible for giving you a big head?"

She laughed this cute, embarrassed laugh that warmed me to the tips of my toes. "Sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry," she apologised in quick succession. "I didn't mean to, I just-"

"I know," I said quietly. I knew why she did the things she did and said the things she said. Because she wanted the best for everyone but herself.

But I wanted the best for her too.

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gaah this was so...look, I don't even know what I was writing. forgive me.

and I hate you guys ahaha whenever I use the word "head" you have to take it sexually, go bathe in holy water or something looool