She almost stopped. Her body wanted to respond on autopilot and turn to face him.
But that blissful sense of done made her laugh instead, because of course Ben Mead would track her down at her moment of victory. Anytime she reached for her freedom, her ex-boyfriend could smell it in the breeze.
Charlotte shook her head and kept walking.
“Hey, Thorny! Wait up!”
She heard his shoes behind her on the grass just before he grabbed her wrist. Charlotte planted her feet and pulled her arm out of his grip, but Ben only danced around her to block her path.
The musk of his cologne followed him. It couldn’t hide his stale all-nighter smell. Ben was shorter than she remembered, and he hunched inward like the direct sunlight hurt him.
Charlotte rolled her eyes. “What do you want?”
Ben’s smug mask slid neatly into place. “My, aren’t you looking flushed today. Didn’t get much sleep last night?”
The insult slid past her. She remembered Ben at twenty-one, his face contorting with fury as she collected her things from his bedroom at the frat house. No one will ever love you, he told her.
Roger used that same tone when he called her inessential. Dial it up a few octaves and you’d have her mother’s accusation that she was a disgrace to the family.
It was a pattern. It was all a pattern. She let these selfish, vicious people into her life and she apologized and apologized and apologized.
Not today, Satan.
When she moved to get around him, he stepped sideways into her path again. “Hang on, I want to talk to you!”
She felt no fight or flight, no freeze or fawn. If anything, she felt hungry. She hadn’t eaten since sneaking a bite of Wynn’s leftovers at Acronym. A hot dog at the picnic sounded perfect.
“I have nothing to say to you,” she said, trying one last time to dodge around him.
Ben’s eyes narrowed as he stepped left to counter her. “Well, that’s not very nice. I just want to catch up. Like old friends!”
“No, you don’t,” Charlotte said. “You don’t give a damn about me. You’re either here to harass me, or you want something. So what is it, Ben?”
Surprise took all the danger from his face. He goggled at her like she’d started speaking Swedish.
He really wasn’t that handsome. His precious hairline had begun to recede. A bead of sweat collected at his temples—he must be boiling in that awful jacket.
All trace of smarm vanished as he changed tack. Ben sized her up like a negotiation opponent. “You work at Front End. With Roger Ludermore.”
Not anymore, dipshit.
Charlotte considered correcting him, but her curiosity won out. “So?”
Ben stuffed his hands into his pockets. “I want to come on his podcast. As a guest.”
Whatever she expected, it wasn’t that.
Dear god, her ex-boyfriend was a loser.
“What?”
Ben didn’t look pleased by the laughter in her voice. “I’m expanding my show to cover the economy.” When she didn’t react, he shifted his weight to his other foot. “Our audiences don’t overlap, so we would, you know, mutually broaden our reach and stuff.”
Charlotte’s hair moved loose and wild around her face in the breeze. She grinned. “Aren’t you supposed to be a leftist? Why would you want to talk to a rabid capitalist?”
Ben stiffened, caught off guard by her refusal to play his game. “I mean, it’s all brand building—”
“No.”
God, the look on his face. She’d remember it for years, the delicious shock that swept across his ratty, old-money jaw. No one told Ben Mead no. No one except her, apparently.
“Excuse me?” he stammered.
“No, I won’t help you use Roger’s podcast to build your career.”
That jaw looked decidedly weak as he gaped at her. “What’s your problem?”
Charlotte shrugged. “I don’t have a problem. In fact, I have a lot fewer problems in my life now that you’re not in it.”
She wished she could bottle this feeling. Preppy pink delight, like the dresses her mother wore to the Chevy Chase Country Club.
Ben’s hands fisted at his side. “Excuse me? Who do you think you are?”
She didn’t like the anger streaking through his question, but she wasn’t afraid of him, not out in the open like this. In public, Ben kept his voice low and his malice in check.
“I’m someone who really knows you,” she said. “And I have somewhere else I need to be.”
Charlotte turned on her heel and made toward the quad. Before she could take a step, Ben grabbed her elbow and yanked her backward. Her balance tilted and she nearly lost her footing on the grass.
