Page 72 of Sex Positive
“The same could be said of you,” she replied with too much bravado while trying to keep her mind from running wild with visions of him pressing her against the wall and kissing her while he looked like a secret agent in an action movie.
Gesturing now between Charlie and Emilia, he says, “Rogers, this is my little sister, Emilia. Emmy, Charlie Rogers.”
Emilia grins, and Charlie sees the startling resemblance. Their smiles are the same, warm and bright, their dimples a matching set.
Emilia gives a mock curtsy. “The more prestigious and attractive Quinn child.”
Wes scoffs, but his lips twitch. “Have you introduced her to Mom?’
“No.” Emilia grimaces. “I’m avoiding that situation for now. But Charlie got Betsy’s card.”
“Perfect.” Wes squeezes Charlie’s elbow before dropping his hand. “I was hoping that would happen. Maybe she’ll perform at the expo.”
Charlie’s pulse riots, a thrill of excitement settling through her. Betsy’s business card feels like a golden ticket, another step on her way to making the expo a reality.
She smiles. “Maybe.”
“So,” Wes rumbles in her ear. When she turns her head, he’s so close she nearly brushes her nose against his. “Do you want to meet my mother?”
The excitement from her interaction with Betsy ebbs, uncertainty rising to overtake it. She pictures Senator Rebecca Belvedere-Quinn standing up for her constituents, standing up to callous politicians who spit hateful lies and cruel, misogynistic remarks.
Courage, Charlie, she tells herself. For one night, she’s not just a college senior from the Midwest. She’s an intelligent young woman with the LSAT scores to prove it who will do anything to save the clinic that once saved her.
She returns Wes’s grin. “I’d love to.”
Wes guides her across the room, his hand on her low back once more. She uses this as reassurance, standing straighter in a way she hopes conveys confidence and poise.
“Mom?” Wes taps a petite woman with a short blonde bob who’s dressed in a glittering long-sleeved black dress. She turns, flashing her son a warm smile. “This is Charlie Rogers.”
“Charlie!” She holds out a hand, and when she smiles, it is Wes’s smile Charlie sees again, complete with the same dimple—a family trait. “So wonderful to finally meet you! Wes has shared so much about you.”
Charlie shakes her proffered hand, unable to keep from glancing sidelong at Wes. He doesn’t look at her.
“All lies, I’m sure.” Charlie smiles. “It’s wonderful to meet you, Senator Quinn.”
Wes’s mother laughs. “Call me Rebecca. Wes mentioned that you’re the girl who’s going to revolutionize sex education. God knows this country needs more people like you.” She places a hand on the arm of the well-dressed man standing beside her. “Have you met my husband, Gabriel?”
Gabriel Quinn, clean-shaven and dressed in an immaculate black tux, is holding a tumbler of amber liquid and speaking quietly to a silver-haired gentleman. At his wife’s prompting, he pauses, turning his attention to her.
“Briefly,” Charlie says, a hard knot forming in her gut at the memory of the last—and only—time she met him. “When Wes gave me a tour of his firm a few weeks ago.”
“Ah.” A flicker of faint recognition appears in his eye. “Yes. Carly?”
“Charlie,” she corrects quietly.
“Rogers and I are studying for the LSAT together,” Wes cuts in, and she commends herself for not shooting him a look at the slight fabrication. Clearly, he still doesn’t want his father to know she’s tutoring him.
Rebecca rests a gentle hand on her forearm. “Now, where are you from, Charlie?”
She feels the full weight of her attention, this woman who is so well known for boldly speaking her mind in Congress.
“I grew up in Indiana,” Charlie replies.
“And your parents? What do they do?”
Charlie’s stomach twists at the mention of her parents; she still hasn’t answered her mother’s text from last week. “My mother is a receptionist for her church, and my dad manages a bank.”
Wes’s father returns to his own discussion while Charlie fights to remain confident and collected.
