I am not bound to please thee with my answers.. For a long time Charlotte stares at the words on her screen before the light fades and snaps her out of her trance. Closing the kindle application on her phone she pockets it and pushes back the chair she is sitting on to clear her plate from catering. Sometimes she feels almost bad for reading Shakespeare on something so modern and not in an old worn book where time has impressed thumbprints on the sides of browning pages. Sometimes she remembers his plays were meant to be for all and that Sami has mentioned more than once that conspiracy theorists recon he did not even write all the plays anyway. Sami can always be relied on to bring up a random yet fascinating topic of conversation and she's glad they were drafted together.
Either way, Charlotte has been reading The Merchant of Venice as her latest attempt to connect with the classics and the quote stands out. Not for its meaning within context but for the sharpness of it in general. Making her way through the hallways towards the women's locker-room her feet grow heavy as she faces the prospect of seeing her again. Becky. Playing her buddy on TV is fine, easy even. Being around her the rest of the time is harder. They travel together. They room together. They work out together. But everything is different because the last time they were like this they were, well, together. And Charlotte has no idea how to address that.
It was agreed that it was just too hard to do manage a relationship on different shows. Other couples managed it but every couple is different. Trying to keep their relationship together started to destroy their friendship. Charlotte called it off.
Regret has coiled in her stomach every since and a burning desire to try again, try harder. Becky is not receptive and that is what has Charlotte pausing before she enters the locker-room. A quick look shows no hint of bright orange hair so she sighs and moves towards her gear, pulling out her robe and coughing at the glitter that drifts into the air. Charlotte understands. She does. If she would leave once she may leave again and Becky is protective of her heart. She just wants a chance. Those words though. Becky is under no obligation. She offered not to travel with Charlotte so it would be easier but that would be worse than painful. Charlotte will take what she can get and respect Becky's choices. She will keep her head down and pretend she's reading something on her phone when she hears rumours or, worse for her, teasing about ladies leaving Becky's hotel room at night.
"Starin- into space again are ye?"
"I...I guess. Just...thinking. Not in a rush and no one around so taking a sec."
Becky tilts her head and moves forward from the doorway, letting it close with a click behind her. "Ye do a lot of tha- lately."
"Got a lot to think about." Charlotte mumbles before pulling at her tank top and letting it fall onto her bag before grabbing her sports bra and unclipping her regular one which gives her the perfect excuse to turn her back on Becky to change.
"Yeah. Me too. It's fun. You an me."
Charlotte nods a little too enthusiastically and pulls her top on, cursing when the material won't give over her shoulder for a few seconds. She hears Becky chuckling behind her.
"Still can't get dresses huh?"
"Guess I got used to you helping."
Charlotte stills when Becky's cold hands curl around the band of her leggings and tease her hips. "Still need help?"
"Don't. Not...just...I can't-"
"Shhh." Becky murmurs while resting her cheek against Charlotte's shoulder. "Saw your goodreads update. Shakespeare huh? Seems you're a bit too upmarket fer the likes of me. Too much"
Something in Charlotte wilts at the words not said. The meaning. The acceptance. "Nothing is above you. Cept the moon many."
"Da moon? Fancy. I'll compromise and have you though, yeah?"
Charlotte smiles and covers Becky's left hand on her hip with her own. "So if you'll have me. Are you gonna help me finish getting changed."
"Weeell, I can help get the clothes off. On again I'm not so sure about."