Chapter 2 — Behind the Mask
Charlie Bennett
The muffled wail of his phone’s alarm dragged Charlie Bennett from the kind of sleep where dreams slipped through his fingers like sand. He groaned, slapping blindly at the nightstand until his fingers collided with the device. The alarm silenced, leaving only the distant hum of the city filtering through his cracked window. He lay there for a moment, staring up at the water stain on the ceiling that resembled an upside-down map of nowhere. He really should do something about that—not today, though.
Eventually, the demands of the day tugged at him, and he swung himself out of bed, feet hitting the cool wooden floor. His apartment was, as usual, a study in organized chaos. A stack of half-read books teetered precariously on the coffee table, and a pile of clean-but-unfolded laundry had claimed one of the armchairs as its permanent headquarters. The faint scent of last night’s takeout lingered in the air. Still, this place felt more like home than any of the cold, impersonal bedrooms he’d grown up in.
Charlie shuffled into the kitchen, the promise of caffeine drawing him forward. The coffee maker gurgled merrily as it brewed his lifeblood, the smell of dark roast filling the air. While he waited, he leaned against the counter, scrolling through his phone. A weather alert warned of late morning drizzle, and he absentmindedly noted a text from Chris about happy hour later. No messages of substance, but that suited him just fine. He scrubbed a hand over his face, the last remnants of sleep clinging to him, and took a gulp of coffee straight from the mug—scalding, bitter, perfect.
His morning routine—or lack thereof—stood in stark contrast to what he imagined Emily Carter’s mornings must be like. Charlie smirked as he shoved his feet into sneakers and pulled on a slightly wrinkled button-down. Emily was the kind of person who probably woke up before her alarm, meticulously planned her day, and alphabetized her bookshelves for fun. She was polished, driven, and terrifyingly competent. He doubted she had ever been late for anything in her life.
Glancing at the time, Charlie muttered a curse, grabbed his keys, and shrugged into his jacket. The coffee cup came with him—he wasn’t about to waste it.
---
The air outside was crisp, the kind of fall morning that felt like a prelude to something. Charlie zipped his jacket as he crossed the street to his favorite café, the briskness biting at his cheeks. The little corner shop had been a staple of his mornings for months, its chalkboard menu propped against the brick wall outside advertising pastries and overpriced lattes. Inside, the atmosphere was warm and unhurried, a small oasis against the bustling city beyond. The scent of freshly baked croissants mingled with the steady hiss of the espresso machine, and the faint strains of Sinatra played over the speakers.
“Morning, Charlie!” The barista, Lucas, greeted him with a grin as crooked as his curls.
“Morning, Lucas. Just the usual,” Charlie replied, sliding a few bills across the counter. While Lucas worked his magic, Charlie leaned against the counter, letting the café’s warmth seep into him. Outside the window, the city was slowly shaking off its sleep. People hurried by with briefcases and coffee cups, their steps purposeful, their faces set. He watched a woman pause at a crosswalk to adjust her scarf, her expression softening as she glanced up at the sky. Moments like that always caught his attention—small glimpses of humanity in an otherwise mechanical world.
“Here you go, man.” Lucas handed over the coffee, snapping Charlie back to the moment.
“Thanks.” Charlie raised the cup in a mock salute before stepping back into the brisk morning air. His walk to the Downtown Corporate Plaza followed a familiar rhythm, his steps falling in time with the faint strum of a street musician tuning his guitar nearby. The musician looked young, his face half-hidden beneath a knit cap, and for a moment, Charlie felt a tug of something—wistfulness, perhaps, or envy. There had been a time when he might’ve stopped to listen, maybe even joined in, but that was a long time ago. Shoving the thought aside, he adjusted his grip on his coffee and kept walking.
---
By the time Charlie stepped into the sleek, glass monolith that was the Downtown Corporate Plaza, he was, predictably, late. The elevator ride to the 18th floor was accompanied by the faint hum of keyboards and the sterile scent of office supplies. One of his coworkers—Karen? Carol?—gave him a disapproving glance, her lips pursed, and Charlie responded with a lazy smile that only deepened her scowl. When the elevator doors dinged open, he strolled into the marketing department, his unhurried demeanor at odds with the polished efficiency surrounding him.
“Bennett,” a voice called out as he made his way to his desk. Charlie turned to see Chris, one of the IT guys, leaning against a cubicle wall.
“Chris,” Charlie replied, clapping him on the shoulder. “What’s up?”
“Happy hour at O’Malley’s tonight?”
“Wouldn’t miss it,” Charlie said with a grin. Chris nodded and disappeared back into the labyrinth of workstations. Charlie dropped into his chair, sipping his coffee as his computer booted up. His desk was, unsurprisingly, an extension of his apartment—sticky notes clung haphazardly to the monitor, and a half-empty bag of pretzels sat next to his mouse. It wasn’t neat, but it worked.
Across the room, Emily Carter was a sharp contrast to his chaos. Her posture was ramrod straight, her fingers flying over the keyboard with practiced efficiency. Even the way she adjusted her blazer while reaching for a file had an air of precision. She moved through the day like she was auditioning for the role of “perfect employee,” and Charlie couldn’t decide whether he found it impressive or exhausting.
He was still watching her when she glanced up and caught his gaze. For a moment, they just looked at each other. Then her expression shifted into polite disinterest, and she returned to her work. Charlie lifted his coffee in a silent greeting, smirking when she rolled her eyes and turned away. There was something about her—something beneath the polished surface—that intrigued him more than he cared to admit.
---
The morning passed in a blur of emails and half-hearted attempts at productivity. Charlie had just returned from a meeting about a client’s social media strategy when he found himself in the break room, rummaging through the fridge for the sandwich he’d brought. The sound of heels clicking against the tile floor announced Emily’s arrival before he saw her. She didn’t notice him at first, her attention fixed on her phone as she scrolled through what looked like her calendar. Her blazer was slightly rumpled, and a strand of hair had escaped her otherwise neat style. She looked... tired. Human.
“Busy day?” Charlie asked, breaking the silence.
Emily startled, her phone nearly slipping from her grasp. “Oh. Bennett, right?”
“Charlie,” he corrected, leaning casually against the counter. “Glad I’ve left such a memorable impression.”
She sighed, brushing the errant strand of hair behind her ear. “Sorry. It’s been... a long morning.”
“Corporate life,” he offered. “Meetings, deadlines, existential dread.”
That earned him a faint smile. “Don’t forget coffee dependency.”
“Ah, yes. The glue that holds the machine together.” He gestured to her with his coffee cup. “You should try Lucas’s place down the street. Way better than the office sludge.”
“I’ll keep that in mind,” she said, her tone neutral, but the way her eyes softened hinted at a flicker of appreciation.
Before he could say more, the door swung open, and Amanda breezed in, her smile sharp enough to cut glass. “Emily, Mr. Thompson’s looking for you. Something about the gala planning meeting.”
Emily straightened instantly, her expression smoothing into professional composure. “Thanks, Amanda.”
As she left, Amanda’s gaze landed on Charlie, her smile turning smug. “Don’t get too comfortable, Bennett. Some of us actually work around here.”
“Noted,” Charlie said dryly as she exited. He shook his head, amused and faintly annoyed. The office really was a circus.
---
By the time the day wound down, Charlie was ready to escape. He packed up his things and, on his way to the elevator, passed Emily’s desk. Her focus was unrelenting, her brow furrowed as she typed.
“Hey, Carter,” he said, leaning against the divider. She looked up, her expression guarded. “Don’t work too hard. Bad for your health.”
Her lips twitched, almost a smile. “Thanks for the unsolicited advice, Bennett.”
“Anytime.” He gave her a mock salute and headed for the elevator, the faintest hint of a smile lingering on his face.
As the doors shut behind him, Charlie’s thoughts drifted back to Emily. There was something about her determination, her vulnerability, that he couldn’t quite place. Maybe, he thought as he stepped into the cool evening air, there was more to Emily Carter than met the eye. And maybe, just maybe, he wanted to find out what it was.
