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Married Before Midnight

Chapter 78: The Walkman Confession

Maplewood University’s campus was alive with the golden hues of autumn, leaves crunching underfoot as Charlotte Carter hurried toward the theater building, her Walkman clutched tightly in her hand. The cassette inside—Jameson Blackwell’s mixtape—had been playing on loop since their movie date, and she still hadn’t listened to Side B.

Every time she pressed play, her fingers hesitated, as if uncovering the second half of the tape would unravel something she wasn’t ready to face. She rounded the corner and nearly collided with a familiar figure leaning against a lamppost, his smirk as infuriatingly charming as ever. “Running late, Carter?” Jameson Blackwell drawled, pushing off the post with effortless grace. His dark hair was tousled from the wind, his leather jacket open over a fitted Henley that made more than one passing girl do a double-take. Charlotte scowled, tucking the Walkman into her bag. “Stalking me now, Blackwell?” “Call it strategic positioning.” He fell into step beside her, hands in his pockets. “You never called after our date. I was starting to think my charm had finally failed.” “Or maybe I just have better things to do than entertain a spoiled trust-fund brat.” Jameson laughed, unfazed. “Ouch. And here I thought my mixtape would’ve melted that icy exterior.” Charlotte’s fingers twitched toward her bag. “I haven’t even listened to Side B yet.” He stopped walking, eyebrows shooting up. “You’re kidding.” “Why? Is there some earth-shattering secret on it?” Jameson’s grin turned sly. “Maybe.”

Before she could retort, her acting professor, Mr. Langley, called from the theater doors. “Charlotte! We’re starting warm-ups. And Mr. Blackwell—unless you’re here to audition, this is a closed rehearsal.” Jameson gave a mock salute. “Wouldn’t dream of interrupting, sir.” He turned back to Charlotte, lowering his voice. “Listen to it. Then meet me at the diner tonight. Seven o’clock.” She rolled her eyes. “Or what?” “Or I’ll serenade you outside your dorm. And trust me, my singing voice is tragic.”

Charlotte groaned, but the threat was effective. “Fine. But if Side B is just more of your terrible taste in music, I’m throwing this Walkman at your head.” --- That evening, Charlotte slid into a booth at Benny’s Diner, the Walkman placed pointedly between them. Jameson lounged across from her, sipping a milkshake like a man without a care in the world. “Well?” he prompted. She exhaled sharply. “You recorded a confession on Side B.” “Guilty.” “You said you—and I quote—‘might be annoyingly, irrevocably into me.’” “Also guilty.” His tone was light, but his gaze held hers, uncharacteristically serious. Charlotte crossed her arms. “Is this a joke? Because if it is—” “It’s not.” Jameson set down his milkshake. “Look, I know my reputation. And yeah, I’ve earned most of it. But with you… it’s different.” “How?” “Because you don’t care.” He leaned forward. “You don’t care about my name, my money, or the stupid rumors. You call me out on my bullshit. And for some insane reason, that makes me want to be better.” Charlotte’s pulse stuttered, but she forced a scoff. “Smooth talker.” “I’m serious, Char.” The nickname slipped out, soft and unexpected. “Give me a chance.

One real date. If you’re not convinced after that, I’ll walk away.” She studied him—the earnestness in his eyes, the way his fingers tapped nervously against the table. For the first time, Jameson Blackwell looked… unsure. Finally, she smirked. “Fine. But I pick the place. And if you embarrass me, I will murder you.” Jameson’s grin returned, bright and relieved. “Deal.” As the diner’s jukebox played a cheesy love song in the background, Charlotte allowed herself a small, secret smile. Maybe—just maybe—Side B had been worth the wait.