Page 77 of The Charm Offensive
He knows why he agreed to this overnight date. After screwing things up with Megan and Delilah, this is the least he can do to appease Maureen and make Dev look like a good handler again. Looking at Daphne, seeing her body language, he isn’t sure why she agreed.
Her thick blond hair is mussed in the back from their performance, and the sleeve on her blouse has fallen off her shoulder. He almost reaches out to fix it, but he can tell by her body language she’s nervous, so he doesn’t touch her. He studies her from three feet away.
She is so lovely. Her blue eyes sparkle in the dim light of the room and her pale cheeks are flushed from kissing. If he’s honest with himself—if he lets himself acknowledge the secret compartment of his heart that has always wanted some form of companionship—Daphne is the kind of person he imagined himself with. For one awful second, he indulges that fantasy. He thinks about how much easier this would all be if he’d come on this show and fallen in love with Daphne Reynolds instead.
The thought churns his stomach. He’s mad at Dev, but even thinking about Daphne feels like a betrayal. Not just of Dev, but of himself, of who he really is and what he really feels in the secret parts of himself. Maybe things with Dev were never real, maybe he’s off hooking up with his ex right now, but Charlie knows nothing can happen with Daphne off camera. Now he just has to find a way to tell her.
“I don’t think we should have sex!”
Conveniently, it’s Daphne who blurts this in a blind panic from the other side of the bed.
“I just… I’m not ready for… sex,” she fumbles. “I… I hope you understand.”
“I understand.” He puts his hand on the bed between them, an invitation for platonic closeness she can take or leave. “I don’t think we should have sex either.”
They are, however, trapped in this hotel room together until dawn without cameras. And she still seems uncomfortable about something.
“Daphne?” he tries. “Can I ask you something? Why did you come on this show?”
“For love,” she says, almost too automatically.
“Yeah, but you don’t love me, and you’re still here.”
She narrows her eyes at him. “You think I don’t love you because I won’t have sex with you?”
“No, I think you don’t love me because you don’t love me.”
Quite frankly, he isn’t even sure if she’s attracted to him. He could feel it in every stiff touch earlier, every passionless kiss. Now that he has a point of comparison, he realizes he’s not the only one who has been faking. Kissing Daphne is like kissing himself. The version of himself he’s always been with everyone but Dev.
“I should be falling in love with you,” she says after a tense silence. “If I’m ever going to fall in love with… It, uh, it should be you. You’re perfect.”
He snorts. “I am so far from perfect.”
“Well, okay. Sure. No one isperfect. But you’re perfect to me.”
“Perfect looking, you mean?”
“Well, no, actually.” She gestures to her shoulders. “Muscles don’t really do it for me. I meanperfect. You’re the smartest person I’ve ever met, and you’re so sweet, and you make me laugh.”
“Laughat me?”
“No.” She finally reaches out for his hand. “Charlie, you’re so clever and witty. I wish I were as funny and comfortable with myself as you are.”
Well. Now he’s crying in a sex suite in Franschhoek.
“Oh, hey. What’s wrong?”
“Your perception of me is what’s wrong. Daphne, there is so much you don’t know about me.”
“Like what?”
Since he can’t saylike hooking up with my producer, he says, “I have OCD.”
And all she says is, “I know.”
“What?”
“I mean, I figured.” She shrugs. “I thought maybe it was just severe anxiety.”
