I've linked Bastille's Coachella performance of "Oblivion" in the sidebar. It's my favorite Coachella performance that I've seen so far this year, and I listened to it on repeat while writing.

Only about three or four chapters left!

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Charlie doesn't try punishing me for not giving him an answer to his invitation. He doesn't pout, or become aloof. He doesn't even seem irritated by my lack of enthusiasm, like I might be if the roles were reversed. But with my hesitance weighing down on him, I can't imagine that his cool will last long.

Unless, of course, he sees what I see for him - a future that could be limitless if he can avoid the natural restrictions that come with the feeling of being relied upon.

For now, we walk hand in hand down a street that I of course don't recognize. Having left early enough, he doesn't hurry me along. He lets me take in my surroundings at my own pace: the parents who call after their children who'd been distracted by holiday displays in shop windows, the changing billboards and signs for shows and brands, the smells - the good and terrible. When he isn't watching me, Charlie studies his surroundings too, and while one part of me wishes to ask him his thoughts on living here, the other part is afraid to inquire about such thoughts if I can't reciprocate with my own.

Chris sits with his friends at the back end of the restaurant, where the table is somewhat hidden by long, heavy curtains. I only focus on the atmosphere of the restaurant for a moment - stark, modern furnishings juxtaposed with classic paintings and romantic lighting, - before focusing on the party at the table.

Three men, including Chris, and one woman sit together. While Charlie and I are dressed nice, in a more similar fashion as the rest of the restaurant goers, Chris' friends are all dressed in full suits.

"Ah, there you two are! We all came a bit early for a round - busy day for us. We deserved it," Chris beams welcomingly, motioning for Charlie and me to sit.

"Charlie and Stella, everyone," he introduces, "This is Kate Stein, we've just started working together again, since she's been in Brussels for two years," he motions to the woman who now sits next to me, and she smiles and mouths a hello to Charlie and me, and the men follow suit at their introductions.

"Kurt Vaughn, master of detail. He likes to correct me when he thinks I'm not listening. Morgan Keyes - he's the charming one, when I'm unavailable. And lastly, Keith Spank. I only keep him around because his last name is Spank. Also, his dad makes really good moonshine."

"Well, it's nice to meet you all," I say with a smile, unfolding my napkin into my lap.

Kate Stein begins to question Mr. Spank about his father's moonshine operation just as Chris leans across the table, beckoning me to lean towards him as well, "It's so much nicer for me now that Charlie's told you about our plans. I could tell you suspected something, and I'm not very good at keeping secrets, so it was quite painful for me."

"No secrets now," I say, anticipating a question of whether or not their "plans" will involve me.

"I know you aren't telling them lies about me already," Morgan warns Chris.

"Actually, I was just about to tell Stella about your connections at NYU."

"I'm sleeping with the dean of Tisch," Morgan pretends to whisper towards me, though I can tell that he cares little who hears.

"That's the school of the arts, right?" I ask him.

"Yes, my partner doesn't try very hard to defy stereotypes," he raises his brows and takes a drink of whatever liquor fills the glasses at the table. "He can get you in any program though, I'm sure. Are you a grad student?"

"No, I'm undergrad - only a freshman."

"Ah," he says, and the others at the table nod.

"Are you going to come with Charlie right away then, or wait until you're done with your undergraduate work?" Mr. Vaughn asks, his brown eyes staring intently at me from underneath his heavily rimmed glasses.

"I might wait. I haven't had much time to plan," I answer ambiguously, much to the irritation of the "master of detail," I'm certain.

He responds with something of a "Hmph," before returning his eyes to the menu.

"Well, you have some time. When did we decide you'd come, Charlie, next fall was it?" Chris does his best to take the pressure and attention off of me, thankfully.

"At the earliest," Charlie says shortly.

Chris repeats Charlie's words, "At the earliest," and winks at me when he knows that his nephew is looking down at his menu, as if to let me know that yes, Charlie had in fact agreed to move come fall; and yes, he was already starting to question his own decisions based on my uncertainty.

"I'm just glad that he's finally admitted to himself that he wants to be just like his uncle," He says, patting Charlie's shoulder.

I am relieved to know that by Chris' behavior, he has identified me as an ally in getting Charlie to move on with his plans, rather than a clingy, controlling little girl who isn't fond of the thought of herself or anyone close to her leaving home.

"Will all of you be working here, once the offices are finished?" I question the table.

"I'll be here," Kate answers with a smile, "I've been all over the world for the last four years, but I couldn't wait to get back to Manhattan. I work in design, mostly - I know Chris finds our actual positions too dull for introductions," she smiles across the table at Chris as he motions to the waiter for another round, "Sure, other cities may be cleaner and more romantically designed, but nothing competes with the progress that people are willing to make here."

"I agree with that," Morgan says, with a wave of his finger, and Mr. Spank nods.

"Morgan lives here, so he'll be in the office a lot," Chris adds, "Spank will go back and forth between New York and Atlanta for a while, and Vaughn will see that the offices here are organized properly, and then he'll start focusing on plans for the West Coast. He's my brain - the left side, at least."

Through the dinner, Charlie becomes more and more talkative, but I can tell that he tries to remain neutral under the encouraging excitement from his uncle and future coworkers.

Boxing isn't mentioned. But as we rise to leave - before the others, who are staying for more drinks - Chris wishes Charlie good luck, and says that he wishes he didn't have to leave in the morning so that he could be in the crowd. The others wish Charlie good luck as well. I assume that Chris has shared his nephew's current profession with them sometime before, like he apparently has with their plans to work together next fall, since it all seemed to be known fact at the table.

"Thank you again for dinner," I smile. Chris had kept everyone's meals and drinks on his own tab - and I wondered to myself if Charlie had developed his generosity from watching his uncle.

Chris waves to me, "Remember, Stella, if something is holding you back that I can help with, let me know." His usual smile isn't present as he speaks to me, and he continues to stare while Morgan agrees, mentioning something else about school.

I only wish that the cause of my hesitation was school or money or connections, but I know it's something more.

As we step out onto the sidewalk, I shiver at the air and tiny droplets of cold rain that blow at my hair.

"Do you want to take a cab?" Charlie asks.

"I'm okay to walk if you are," I say with a yawn, stretching my arms low in front of my stomach and clasping my hands together for warmth.

"Okay, but if you get too cold, stop me and I'll get us a cab."

He reaches for my clasped hands, cupping them in his while we walk and bringing them to his lips, where he warms them with his breath.

"Thank you," I say when he lets go. He keeps hold of only one of my hands and tucks it into his coat pocket with his own.

"Are you mad at me?" I ask simply.

"No," he laughs, "I understand why you wouldn't want to come here, but I wish I didn't."

"I'm not even sure I understand my hesitation fully, so I'd love for you to enlighten me."

He doesn't answer, so in order to stop the silence that speaks for him, I continue.

"I mean, I think that any school here would be more than my parents could afford, and I wouldn't be able to contribute enough even if I found a job - which who knows if I could. But-"

He interrupts me, "Stella, you know I've already considered how to pay for things. My uncle would help by giving me advancements to start out. I've saved some, and I would be selling my house in Clemson. Even if you have to get loans, once I'm working, I will be able pay them off very quickly."

"Eh, no," I say it with unintentional disgust.

"That's it, there," he gestures towards me with the hand that doesn't hold mine in his pocket.

"It's not just about money. That's what I was getting to," I start.

"No, it's that you don't want to rely on anyone."

"Yeah, I don't, Charlie. I'll only be nineteen next month, I've just graduated and left home. I'm finally learning to live on my own, and I don't immediately want to become dependent on someone else," I raise my voice, but quiet it when I remember that we're still walking down a somewhat busy street. Luckily, no one takes notice.

"That's sort of the point of relationships, Stella. Everyone is relying on each other for something."

"I don't think that's true," I say childishly, turning my head away from him. Before Charlie responds to my refuting, the toe of my shoe catches on a crack in the pavement and I start to fall forward, but Charlie releases my hand and grabs my shoulders in an instant, steadying me.

I turn towards him with a huff and I'm almost irritated to find him grinning, mocking me. I shake my head and laugh a little.

"It's not the same. These little things that you do for me and the things that you would be doing if we lived together here, they are so different," I say as we continue.

"It's all the same to me," he shrugs, collecting my hand again, "Sure, to most, there is a steep difference in the value of me keeping you from falling on the sidewalk and wanting to pay for a place for us both to live, but I do all of those things because I love you. It's been that way since the day that I met you - really met you - so I see no difference."

I look at him with a raised brow and shake my head again, "You're hopelessly illogical sometimes."

"And you analyze things to a fault. I don't care if you keep notebooks full of receipts for things that you owe me - I want you to move with me," he stops and forces me to turn towards him on a part of the street that is quiet.

"You wouldn't be very open to the idea of me paying for you a place to live, Charlie."

"It isn't the same," he bites his lip, knowing what's coming.

"How very chau-" His hand covers my mouth before I finish.

"You're a student. I would be moving here with a well paying job and my school courses would be paid for."

"If the roles were reversed entirely," I add.

He shakes his head, "Don't say it."

"Chauvinist!"

He pulls me forward and kisses me to silence my accusation, laughing against my lips.

"You have to be the only girl in the world who would run away from this," he says quietly, his face still extra close to mine. "I want to be with you - really be with you. I want you to rely on me. I don't care how young we are, and I don't even mind if you call me a chauvinist," he laughs lowly, staring down and searching for my eyes.

I keep them cast down, watching my hands on the front of his coat.

"Charlie," I say sadly.

"I won't come here without you. I'll keep boxing and training people until you're ready," he says firmly.

"No," I look up into his eyes, "You have to come here no matter what. I want this for you, I just don't know that I want this for myself, not yet."

Charlie wakes me on the day of his fight before the sunrises - like the day before. This time though, I get to stay comfortably in bed while he makes a trip to collect the Isaacs from the airport.

Though once deemed "a healthy escape," - a time that he could spend with his family, - it had since been decided that an extended trip to New York City offered too much temptation for Mark. It was even debated that he not come at all, but essentially he, his wife, and Charlie all agreed that he should at least be here for the fight.

"We'll go to breakfast when I'm back. Okay, baby?" He asks as he pushes the sheets away only slightly to kiss down my back.

"Mm hmm," I mumble, "Be safe."

We say "I love you," and Charlie leaves. I give myself a generous bit of time to lie awake in bed before getting up to shower ready myself for Charlie's return with the Isaacs.

I call my parents while I wait, knowing that they'll likely be awake, despite the early hour. I haven't mentioned Charlie's plans to move to the city to them, or his invitation to bring me along. Although I consider it for a moment, I decide to keep quiet about it for a while longer.

I've tried to predict their reactions, but truthfully, I'm unsure of what they will think. Of course, I will probably lead into the news with saying, "I'll stay at Clemson of course, but-" rather than allow them to think that I would really ask them to pay extra tuition and sit by silently while I move to New York with a boy whom I've not known for a year.

Not that me moving here would be a complete shock to my parents - I hadn't mentioned it last night at the dinner table, or anytime after, but I'd already been accepted to NYU as a senior in high school.

I applied, thinking that a more drastic change was just what I needed, and also considering all of the possible opportunities that I would have in this city that South Carolina couldn't offer me.

I'd opted for the safer option, of course, and looking back now, I can't remember how my parents had even reacted to my decision. I'm sure they were somewhat relieved that I would be close, but beyond that, I can't recall.

I'm sorting through my luggage when Charlie reenters the room.

"Hi," I greet him with a smile as he approaches, wrapping his arm around my waist and kissing my forehead.

"Would you mind going to breakfast with Mason and Casey? Mark wants to micromanage me for the day - try to have some last-minute control over my diet and go over a few things at the gym. We should be back by early afternoon, and maybe we can rest for a while before we head to the venue."

"Alright. I'll be fine doing whatever. You do what you need to," I assure him.

"They're staying a couple of floors down. They'll be up in a minute," he tells me as he pulls his sweater over his head and begins to change into his workout clothes.

I hear him exhale sharply when his side twists as he pulls on a fresh white t-shirt. I look warily at him, but his expression stops me from enquiring further. He looks somewhat defeated in the moment, and I know that he is nearly as nervous as I am for him to be competing, having just been injured.

Instead of speaking, I go to stand in front of him, taking the thin, black headband from his hand and rising to my tiptoes so that I may reach his head. He rests his hands on my hips, leaning forward a bit and allowing me to pull the band down over his head. I push the front back then, positioning it in his hair where he normally wears it. I let my heels fall back to the floor and fix his hair on the sides, so it is not held so tightly away from his face.

"You know I'm reliant on you now too, don't you?" He pulls my attention away from his hair so that I look into his eyes. His expression is serious - painful. "Have I not told you enough that you help me all the time?"

We were fine last night, and before he left this morning, but I know that Charlie won't find resolve in our conversations until I give him a definite answer - more likely, he will not feel resolved until I say yes. Until then, I cannot be upset with him every time he wants to talk about it.

"I know you're trying to find a reason as to why I haven't immediately agreed to move with you, Charlie, but I don't want you to blame yourself. I'm not as good at this - at being with you, as you are with me. I just need time, and I'll figure out what's wrong with me," my voice breaks at the very end, though I don't start to cry. But I bite my lip, in case. "I mean it. There isn't anything you could do better. It's just me, I'm just not-"

The knock at the door stops our conversation, but to my surprise, Charlie leans down and kisses me, lingering long enough that there is a second knock before he pulls away and says, "Come in."

"Hi, Stella," Casey enters happily, coming forward immediately to give me a hug. Mason follows her and smiles at me, but his lips are pursed and he seems hesitant. Mark does not hug me, but says hello, and mentions that he made sure to start my car once before they left, to keep me from having problems when I return.

"I'll try to remember to start it again before you get back to Clemson, but it should be good in Charlie's garage."

"Thank you, you didn't have to do that," I tell him, and he shifts uncomfortably and nods.

I find it ironic, really, that Mark has helped me find an internship and makes sure to check on my car while I've only known him for a couple of months, but he knowingly put his family in danger. I try not to judge him too harshly, of course, but I do find it interesting.

When we sit down for breakfast in the hotel restaurant, Casey immediately comments on how nice our suite is, "Charlie's uncle must be a very generous man. Or he is just making up for the fact that he can't make it to support him tonight," she laughs.

"His parents are upset, too - his aunt and uncle, I mean. They try to travel and watch him when they can, but something came up with a program that his uncle sponsors at the college where he teaches, I believe. You haven't met them yet, have you?"

"No," I respond, "But I will be going to stay with them for New Year's, I think."

"Oh, of course, Charlie told me that," she smiles contently. "I'm sure his aunt and uncle are pleased with you already, then. He usually rushes back to Clemson to start training again after holidays. They'll be happy that he's staying for a couple of weeks."

Just after the waiter takes our order, Casey excuses herself to the restroom, leaving Mason alone with me.

"Are you excited to be here?" I ask him, taking a drink of my orange juice, "Maybe we could all go out tonight and look at Christmas lights."

"Maybe," he says, finally smiling more genuinely.

"Do you remember the night that we watched TV together? I fell asleep on the couch. It was the night that my mom and I had to stay with you and Charlie."

"I remember, of course," I answer him.

"Well, do you remember when I asked where you would live, and I made you promise that you wouldn't leave Charlie?"

"Yes," I say, wondering if Charlie has put Mason up to this. I nearly laugh aloud at the thought - Charlie bribing a child into making me feel guilty.

"Just because he is the one moving doesn't mean you shouldn't stay with him. You promised," he says, looking down at his lap as he finishes.

"I did promise. What did Charlie tell you exactly?"