Betting on You

I was in the middle of laughing my ass off—while singing—when I saw it happen.

One minute Charlie was giving me a funny grin and singing along to “All Too Well,” and the next his face completely changed.

His smile disappeared like a door slamming shut, and his Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed. I looked back at the couple who’d just walked in behind him, and—holy crap—it was her. The gorgeous girl from the movie theater.

Charlie’s ex-girlfriend.

Just as fast as his face had changed, it changed back. Charlie turned his attention back to me and smirked, but it didn’t touch his eyes. I was glad the song was ending, because I didn’t want to sing it anymore.

It felt like the worst possible accompaniment to seeing your ex with her new boyfriend.

“Thank you very much, Omaha,” Clio said into the microphone, grinning at me as she added, “And I pray to God we won’t be back up here again this evening.”

She dropped the microphone, and we jumped down from the table to a smattering of applause.

“That was awful,” Eli said, slow-clapping and smiling from his spot next to Charlie on the sofa. “But ten out of ten, would recommend.”

“Gee, thanks,” I replied, but my eyes were on Charlie as he looked uncomfortable. He was all cool with his ankles crossed and his arm resting over the back of the couch and lips turned up into a smile, but his discomfort showed in the tightness of his jaw and the dullness of his stare.

Just as I sat down beside him, Becca and her boyfriend walked up.

Shit.

The guy grinned down at Charlie and said, “Sampson—how’s it going?”

The guy—like the rest of the world—seemed genuinely happy to see Charlie.

Charlie’s ex-girlfriend did too. She smiled. Warmly. Like he was an old friend. It was a happy, kind, entirely unaffected smile, and I imagined that smile, coupled with her fingers linked between her boyfriend’s, had to feel very super shitty. I couldn’t help but feel bad for Charlie.

“Your mom knows,” Charlie said, a smirk on his face that told everyone he was kidding and they were buddies and ha-ha-ha it’s a “your mom” joke. “Ask her.”

The guy started cracking up and Charlie’s ex smiled, and I was surprised that I seemed to be the only one who could see his words for what they were. Everyone thought Charlie was hilarious, but he used humor and snark as a total defense mechanism.

All the time.

I guess I’d already noticed it whenever he talked about his relationship with his parents, but suddenly it was clear that it was his go-to move in any situation.

Of course, if I told him that, he’d probably mess up my hair and mock me for trying to be Freud, but, God—it was textbook.

And now that I’d seen it, it was all I could see.

Which is the only way to explain why I smiled up at the new boyfriend and said, “I’m Bailey, by the way. Charlie’s… friend…?”

I looked at Charlie, my head tilted just a little, as if sharing an inside joke about whether or not I could be called his friend. His dark eyes moved over my face for a split second, and then he got it, his mouth sliding into a slow, flirty grin that actually made my stomach do a little dip.

Holy shit, Charlie could be sexy when he wanted.

It was something about the squint of his eyes, the way he looked at me lazily, mischievously, almost as if he wanted to steal me away for multiple uninterrupted hours.

Ahem—wow.

I brushed away that unwelcome awareness because the bigger thing was that his eyes were alive again. I don’t know why I hated seeing him unhappy so much, but for some reason, I did.

“I’m Kyle and this is Becca,” the guy said, and I smiled and nodded and tried my best not to stare at her.

But it was impossible.

Because I was trying to reconcile her with Charlie. More so, I was trying to reconcile the idea of someone who Charlie liked enough to have a hard time getting over.

Because he might’ve brought me along under the guise of appearances, but I wasn’t an idiot; this was all about her. Charlie was one of those rare people who genuinely didn’t give a shit about what people thought of him, so the fact that she made him care mattered.

“You just missed ‘All Too Well,’ ” I said, trying to play the part of a laid-back party girl, when in reality I hated chatting with strangers because I was awkward as hell.

“Oh, we caught the end of it,” Becca said, talking to me even though her big blue eyes kept bouncing between Charlie and me. “You didn’t phone-a-Charlie?”

That made her and Charlie share a smile, and there was something about it that I did not like. Memories were being shared in that gaze, recollections of interwoven moments, and my stomach knotted as I witnessed the fleeting second of something.

I don’t know why, but I really hated that something.

It probably had to do with the fact that, against my better judgment, I didn’t like the thought of him being sad.

Surely that was it.

“Bay’s too stubborn to ask for help,” Charlie said, and then he kind of leaned into me. Like, technically it was just a shoulder-nudge, a bump, but it spoke of an intimacy that Charlie and I did not have in real life. “I believe her exact words were that she’d rather sing on a table than let me be right.”

That caught me off guard, and I laughed, surprised he remembered what I’d said. I shrugged, and I don’t know what came over me, maybe it was this bizarre need to protect him from emotional scars, but I snaked my arms around his left biceps and squeezed.

Yes, I gave him an arm hug as I said, “I stand by my decision.”

Charlie looked at me, the tiniest crinkle between his eyebrows the only sign of surprise, and then he said, “Hold up, you have an eyelash.”

My breath stilled as his face moved marginally closer and his free hand came up and softly touched my cheek. It was only a split second, but it felt like a freeze-frame as our eyes met and held.

What is happening? I took a deep breath and felt a little unsettled, my heartbeat skittering in my chest as his gaze swept over me from point-blank range. Brown eyes held me like a spell, a hex that rendered me incapable of looking away as his jaw flexed and unflexed.

But then, as if a switch were flipped, the freeze-frame ended. The noise of the party returned, Charlie straightened, and we were back to chatting with his former girlfriend and her new man.

Only, instead of dropping his hand, he let it come down to rest on my thigh.

And not passively, but almost in a grab, with his thumb and forefinger applying the slightest pressure.

I looked down at his long fingers and wondered why my stomach was going wild with butterflies. Why was the sight of Charlie’s hand on me causing utter chaos to my insides?

What. The. Hell?

Realizing that I was looking down at his hand, I quickly brought my gaze back to his face. Charlie was giving me a totally normal smart-ass grin, and I realized that I’d been getting a little caught up in the fake game.

It’s Charlie, you idiot.

Only, I could still feel his fingers on my thigh.

Ahem.

Becca looked directly at Charlie’s hand, then raised her eyes and said, “Do you know where Brittany is? She was bringing our beer.”

“In the kitchen when we got here,” he said, and I couldn’t help but notice the way his eyes seemed to drink her in when he looked at her. Did he have any idea how much of his heart was in his gaze when he looked at her?

And why did I find it a little annoying?

“Britt,” she yelled, grabbing her boyfriend’s arm as she headed for the kitchen. “Where you at?”

As they walked away, I let go of Charlie’s arm and did anything but look at him. I wasn’t sure how to deal with whatever strange things had been afoot between us. I knew that I’d just gotten a little caught up in our game of pretend, but would he know that’s all it was?

“Glasses.”

“Hmm?” I said, trying to look casual as I raised my eyebrows as if interested in what he was going to say. “What?”

When I dared to meet his eyes, he was giving me a funny look. It was… sincere, maybe? He let go of my thigh, cleared his throat, and said, “You went above and beyond. Thanks.”

“No problem.”

“Come on, Clio,” Charlie said, following Clio out the front door. I shut it behind us as he tried to get her to listen to him. “Be a good girl.”

“I’m fine,” she said—well, yelled, smiling as she stepped off the porch and into the front yard.

“Nope.” Charlie jumped off the porch and landed in front of her. He bent his knees, so his face was at her level (he was like a foot taller than her), and he said, “I’m not going to be able to sleep tonight if I let one of my favorite humans get behind the wheel when she’s clearly buzzed. Please let me drive you, because I need my fucking beauty sleep.”

The way she beamed at him made me smile, because what else was there to do?

The jerk from the airport was ridiculously charming.

Actually—that wasn’t it.

It wasn’t charm that was melting Clio and me, it was kindness. The jerk from the airport clearly cared about his friend and was committed to taking care of her.

Dear God, it was almost too nice, like sunshine on a spring day. So completely wonderful that you want to stare and soak it up, but that only results in burned corneas and impaired vision.

We got Clio loaded into the back seat, and when we were buckling our seat belts and he started the car, Charlie said, “By the way. My friend Eli asked me if he can ask you out.”

What? I knew to be cool and act like I’d been there before, but what I really wanted to do was say Are you sure? and Did he get me confused with someone else?

Not that I didn’t think I was worthy of interest, but I hadn’t really engaged with Eli, aside from a few random sentences.

“Why would he ask you?” I said, mainly to sound cool as I worked through my shock that he’d noticed me at all. “What are you—my dad?”

Charlie put the car in drive and pulled away from the curb. “I’m his friend, and he just wanted to make sure I wouldn’t care. Settle your ass down.”

I peeked back at Clio, who looked like she was asleep sitting up, and tried to determine how I felt about this turn of events. Charlie’s friend was cute and seemed nice enough, but he also wasn’t Zack.

“What’s Eli like?” I asked Charlie, deciding not to shut it down entirely before I had all the facts.

“Oh my God, I love Eli,” Clio said with her eyes closed. “He’s hot and super nice.”

That made me grin at Charlie.

“I think you’d like him,” Charlie said, looking into the mirror before switching lanes.

“You do?” I looked over, for some reason surprised, and his face was unreadable in the dashboard lights. “Really?”

“Sure,” he said, his wrist casually draped over the steering wheel. “I mean, I like him, he’s a handsome guy, and you’re not into anyone else, right?”

“Right,” I said, looking out the windshield into the darkness and picturing Zack.

But I must’ve made a face, because his eyes got big and he said, “Holy shit—who? Who are you into?”

“No one,” I lied, but Charlie wasn’t buying it.

“Oh, come on, Glasses,” he said, his eyes twinkling with mischief. “I don’t know any of your dude friends, so you can tell me. Is there some new guy that makes your little heart go pitter-patter?”

“Oh, it’s nothing like that,” I said dismissively, so far away from pitter-patter that it wasn’t even funny.

“Wait,” he said, shooting me a quick glance before returning his eyes to the road. “Are you still hung up on your ex?”

“No!” I said, way too defensively. I glanced into the back seat and then repeated in a much quieter voice, “No.”

“Holy shit, you are,” Charlie said, his eyebrows rising all the way up his forehead. “I can tell.”

“How can you tell? That’s ridiculous,” I said around a little fake laugh, trying to play it off.

“I just know.” Charlie glanced at me for a split second, and his face went kind of serious, the curve of his mouth flattening, and he gave a shrug as if to accentuate that he couldn’t explain it.

“Because you’re still hung up on Becca,” I said, in almost a whisper.

He didn’t agree, but he didn’t deny it either as he stopped for a red light. Charlie held my gaze before asking, “So do you guys talk? What’s the deal?”

For the most part, I didn’t discuss Zack and me.

For multiple reasons.

I didn’t want to hear opinions on how I needed to move on or opinions on Zack’s character, and I definitely didn’t want to be judged as a clinger because I couldn’t let him go.

I would probably say those things to someone else in the same situation, to be honest.

But the thing about relationships was that no one else knew the quiet, tiny moments that belonged exclusively to you two. Those were the things that made you hold tight because you were the only one he’d shown that side of himself to.

No one else knew.

The time we goofily whisper-sang all the words to “A Groovy Kind of Love” together when he snuck me up to his bedroom and then I was stuck because his mom wouldn’t go downstairs; the way he got actual tears in his eyes when I told him about the way my parents used to fight all the time; his propensity for kissing me when I was midsentence because he said he couldn’t bear to wait another second; and U2’s Rattle and Hum album—which he bought when we went to Homer’s together, and said that Bono surely wrote “All I Want Is You” for us.

A thousand inside jokes stood between my heart and closure.

But I knew those thoughts made me sound like a lovesick child, so it was easier to just keep it all in my own head.

Which was why it was really strange that at that moment, it felt safe to share with Charlie. I gave a half shrug and said, “No. He’s seeing someone else now.”

I would’ve expected Charlie to snicker about how pathetic I was, but he didn’t. He gave a little nod as the light turned green, and instead said, “So why aren’t you over him?”

“I don’t know,” I said defensively, irritated that he sounded just like Nekesa.

“No—I’m not being a dick.” He held up a hand as if trying to reframe his words. “What I mean, um, is that most of the time, if a couple has a normal breakup, even if there are still feelings, they each move on. So if a smart girl like you can’t move on, there’s usually a reason. An extenuating circumstance.”

I narrowed my eyes, wishing I could see into his brain. “What do you mean?”

“Take me,” he said, looking embarrassed and lowering his voice. “Bec still texts me all the time—only as a friend—but sometimes it feels a lot like when we were together, and it’s a bit of a mindfuck.”

“Oh, shit,” I said, picturing Becca’s face, wondering if she was playing games with him. I’d met her for only a minute so I had no idea, but I hoped she wasn’t intentionally keeping him on the line, keeping his heart tied up with her so he couldn’t move on.

“Right?” He half smiled, but it wasn’t happy or amused. It was self-deprecating, as if to say I am a stupid man. “So I was just wondering if there is a reason for you to still be hanging on.”

I looked at his pain-in-the-ass Charlie face and thought how strange it was that this was more of an emotional conversation about the breakup than I’d had with Nekesa or anyone else, for that matter. I took a deep breath and said, “With us, the breakup was a mistake.”

He raised an eyebrow.

“I know—that sounds like a typical ex-girlfriend thing to say. But it’s true.” I went on to tell him about how I’d broken up with Zack when I was mad, fully expecting we’d get back together, but Zack had taken it as the final death knell for our relationship and started dating. As Charlie pulled the car to a stop in front of a house—Clio’s, presumably—I said, “So I kind of feel like we aren’t done.”

“Ah.” He looked like he wanted to say something but was holding back. His eyes moved over my face as he asked, “And you’ll take him back if he asks you to?”

That… was a good question. I felt like it was a yes, but Charlie’s question made me realize that I still had some issues with the way Zack had been able to just move on from me. If he cared about me even half as much as I cared about him, shouldn’t it have taken a little time? Shouldn’t he have tried harder before giving up?

“Probably,” I admitted, knowing it was the wrong answer while also knowing I meant it. “What about you? Would you take Becca back if she asked?”

“Here!” Clio popped forward, leaning up between our seats, and said, “We’re here! This is my house.”

“That is correct,” Charlie said to his tipsy friend, but his eyes stayed on me. He gave me a little closed-mouth smile, like an acknowledgment of our shared heartaches, before pulling the keys from the ignition and opening his door. “Let’s get you inside, Miss Clio.”