Betting on You

When we finally pulled into Breckenridge, the town all lit up with twinkling lights in the darkness, we devised a plan. I was going to go into the condo and tell my mom that Charlie was with me, not Nekesa, and he was going to wait in the car for five minutes. Hopefully my mother could lessen the initial blow to Scott, and we could get on with the weekend.

Shit, shit, shit. How on earth was I going to tell her? It occurred to me at that moment that we’d all been idiotic teenagers to think this was a good idea. They were going to freak that I’d brought a boy, and they were going to double-freak that the boy was Charlie.

What in God’s name had I been thinking?

And I was a dick. I was a total dick for tricking my mom. Because messing with Scott’s happiness was whatever, but messing with my mom’s was something else entirely. We were a team, just she and I, and we’d never snuck around and lied to each other.

Shit, shit, shit, what the hell have I done?

“Relax,” Charlie said as he looked for a parking spot. “I can almost hear your internal freak-out.”

“Because this was a terrible idea,” I said loudly. “What the hell was I thinking?”

“Breathe,” he said, and when I glanced over at him, something about the reassuring look on his face made me calm down just a little. “It’s going to be fine.”

“I doubt it,” I said, nodding, “but I’m going to go with that.”

As he drove in the direction of the condo, I realized that Charlie—Charlie Sampson, Mr. Nothing—had made me feel calm. Yes, we were becoming better friends, but certain moments felt bigger somehow.

He found a parking spot across the street from the condo, and after ten minutes of panicked breathing, I unbuckled and got out of the car.

“Wish me luck,” I said, my hands shaking.

“Good luck,” he sang in a silly voice. “Don’t fuck it up, Glasses.”

“Shut up,” I sang right back.

After I walked around to the back of the building, I found their door—unlocked—so I pushed it open and stepped inside. “Hello? Mom?”

I walked through what appeared to be the laundry room and into the kitchen, which was all unfinished rustic wood, and I couldn’t believe my eyes.

The condo was incredible.

The living room had high ceilings with big wood beams, and one entire wall was a stone fireplace that happened to have a fire burning inside of it that very minute. The furniture was brown leather, and the place felt like a ski chalet.

I loved it.

“Bay?” I heard my mother yell from upstairs. “Is that you?”

“Yep,” I yelled back, my momentary distraction giving way to the nervous fear that’d been there first. “We just got here.”

“That was fast,” she said, and I heard her feet coming down the stairs. “I can’t believe you’re here already.”

She hopped off the last step and grabbed me in a hug, and I could almost feel how relaxed she was. Guilt washed over me like a wave as I realized I was about to ruin that, and I rambled, “We actually left earlier than planned because we didn’t want to do the mountain roads in the dark.”

“Good idea.” She glanced behind me and asked, “Where’s Nekesa?”

“Yeah, um,” I said, grabbing her elbow and pulling her closer so we could talk quietly. “About that. There was a slight change of plan.”

“What happened?” she asked, looking worried.

God, I was such a piece of shit, because my mother looked super concerned about the welfare of everyone when I was about to spring an unwelcome surprise on her. I looked at her raised eyebrows and big blue eyes and hated what I was about to tell her.

“Well, um, Nekesa got grounded last night and couldn’t come. I didn’t want to drive here all alone,” I said, so nervous that every word was hard to say, “so I brought a different friend.”

“Oh?” She still looked happy and chill. “Who?”

Clearly she was waiting for me to say someone who was a girl and also not her boyfriend’s least favorite teenager.

I swallowed and forced myself to say it.

“Charlie,” I said, keeping my voice low as I looked behind her for any sign of Scott. “I brought Char—”

“Charlie?” Her eyes got huge and she said, “Are you freaking kidding me?”

“I didn’t know what to do when Nekesa canceled,” I replied, talking fast. “I didn’t—”

“Oh, no, you don’t,” she said, pointing her finger at me as her voice got higher and louder and her mouth tightened. “You have a phone—that I pay for. You should’ve called me. Don’t pretend this was somehow your only option!”

I tried talking in a calm voice. “But Charlie’s my friend and has a reliable car. Is it really that different from Nekesa?”

“Yes!” She crossed her arms and started pacing. “It’s bad enough that you brought a boy—any boy—with you. You’re too smart not to know that would matter. But not only did you bring a boy, you brought the boy that Scott hates on Scott’s vacation—are you kidding me with that?”

“I know,” I said.

“That is seriously rude,” she said, almost yelling. “In addition to everything else that’s wrong with this plan, it is rude and entitled. Oh, I guess they’ll just have to go along with what we want. How can you be so okay with behaving like that?”

My cheeks were hot and I felt like total garbage, because she was right. “I’m so sorry.”

She shook her head fast, pissed off. “Save it for Scott.”

“Where is he, by the way?” I asked, realizing that if Scott were there, her yelling would’ve brought him to the room.

My mom stopped pacing and chewed on the corner of her lip. “He ran to the market.”

I watched her face as she tried working through it, and I hated the twisting guilt I felt at the sight of her jaw clenched.

“I mean, he’s here now—can’t we find a way to make it work?”

She gave her head another angry shake, like she couldn’t believe this was happening. “File that under things Bailey and Charlie were counting on.”

Not wrong, I thought.

“Okay.” She dropped her arms to her sides and said, “Here’s the plan. You’re going to get out of here, and I will tell Scott when he gets back.”

“So… do you want us to just wait in the car, then?” I asked.

“Bailey, I don’t care where you wait,” she said, mom-glaring me so hard that I felt her stare in my guilty soul. Her teeth were clenched as she said, “Do you know how mad I am at you right now?”

“I know, and I’m sorry,” I said lamely, wishing there was a way for her not to get hurt by this.

“That means nothing today.” Her eyes roamed all over the condo, like she was looking for an answer, and then she said, “Just go drive around or something.”

“We can do that,” I said, nodding, anxious to please her.

“And then I’ll text you when you’re good to come back,” she said. “Not that I’m looking forward to that enjoyable reunion.”

“I’m so sorry,” I repeated.

“Spare me,” she said, still looking mad but intent on her plan. “Now get out of here.”

I wanted to cry—seriously—because I hated her being mad at me.

Especially when I knew I deserved it. I left, feeling like a trash human, and Charlie was standing behind his car with the trunk open when I crossed the street.

“Hey,” I said.

He looked up and smiled. “Hey.”

“My mom is so pissed,” I told him, my stomach heavy with dread and guilt as I kept seeing her angry face.

Ugh—her disappointed face.

I walked over to where he stood, and after he closed the trunk, his big, warm hand found mine.

My eyes shot up, jolted by the feel of his fingers linking around mine, and he stepped a little closer. “I was thinking. It’s probably time we start this whole charade, right?”

Everything else faded away as I felt the skin of his palm press against me. My breath was shaky as I gulped down cold mountain air and thought, Ohmygod.

A car pulled into the lot, but I barely noticed because I was flustered by the intimacy of Charlie’s hand. The slide of his big fingers around mine, the heat of his skin; it felt far more risqué than just holding hands.

This was Charlie, and this was pretend, but the racing of my heart and the butterflies in my stomach meant a tiny part of my body had apparently missed the message.

“This is a little jarring, don’t you think?” I asked, looking up into his brown eyes under the golden glow of the streetlight. “It feels like I should be smacking your hand and telling you to knock it off.”

“Totally.” He laughed, and I liked the way the corners of his eyes crinkled when he grinned down at me, like we were the only two people in the world sharing this absurd joke. “I kind of thought you might junk-punch me out of habit.”

“I’ve never junk-punched you,” I said around a smile.

“I’ve never tried holding your hand before, though, so…”

“Fair,” I agreed, and it occurred to me at that moment that I wasn’t emotionally prepared for this… electricity. My head knew we were going to be pretending all weekend, but I hadn’t anticipated the sparks that would go off when he smiled at me like that.

This would take some getting used to.

“So what exactly did your mom say?” he asked.

Move on, Bay—this is Charlie.

“She was pretty heated.” I told him what she said, but instead of driving around, we decided to walk to the cute coffee shop we’d seen when we pulled into town. We grabbed our jackets out of the back seat and strolled, and even though it was a little chilly, it was one of those perfect autumn nights where as long as you were moving, it was comfortable.

“I’m starving,” Charlie said as we sat down at a table. “Maybe we should get food before we head back.”

“No. My mom said after they booked the trip that the kitchen would be fully stocked and we can make whatever we want.” I took off the lid to let my mocha cool and said, “I don’t need to do something else to piss her off, so let’s just eat their food when we’re allowed to return.”

He wrapped his big hands around his cup and muttered, “Okay.”

“You’re not stressed about Scott, are you?” I asked. “I’m sure it’ll be fine once the shock wears off.”

“I’m not worried,” he said, unzipping his coat. “I just hope he’s not the level of asshole who ruins your mom’s vacation by being a pouty dick.”

“See, that’s what really stresses me out about our plan.” I slid the cup sleeve down as I tried coming to terms with the fact that there was really no way for us to disturb Scott without it affecting my mother’s trip too. “I don’t want my mom to be unhappy, and if my plans work, she’ll be unhappy in the short-term.”

“But,” he said, lifting his cup off the table and giving me a serious look, “if she’s happy, you’re not. Look out for number one, Glasses.”

I rolled my eyes. “You sound like a mobster.”

“Thank you.”

“Not a compliment.”

“Says you.” He took a gulp of his coffee, set down his cup, and said, “Let’s talk about our fake dating.”

“Yeah, I suppose we should,” I said, nerves fluttering in my stomach at the prospect. I sipped at my drink and asked, “Do you have a plan?”

“Not a plan, per se,” he said, “but an idea.”

He leaned closer, and it occurred to me that Enthusiastic Charlie was one of my favorite versions of him. His eyes were practically dancing as he said, “Here’s what I’m thinking. When Scott accepts that I’m here, we return to the condo. Shortly thereafter, when he’s dealing with the unfortunate existence of my presence, we hold hands. That will send up all the what-the-fuck flags, and that’s probably good for tonight.”

I was horrified, and terrified, but he somehow managed to make me cough out a laugh as I pictured Scott’s reaction. “I kind of feel bad for poor Scott.”

“Poor Scott indeed,” he agreed, his mouth in a big grin. “Unless—do you think we should do more?”

“More?” I asked, my laugh settling into a smile as I let my eyes drink in Happy Charlie.

“More,” he said, his eyes locking into mine, his mischievous smile morphing into something more intense, “than hand-holding.”

I don’t know what got into me, but I lifted my chin and asked, “What kind of more are you thinking?”

“Bailey Rose,” he said, his voice lowering to a hot rumble as his mouth stayed in a sexy smirk. “Are you asking me to list the types of PDA we can throw at Scotty?”

My phone buzzed, making my heart leap in my chest. Dear God, what in flirtation was that? I pulled it out of my pocket and yes—it was my mom.

I talked to Scott, and he’s okay with Charlie being here IN CONCEPT, but we’re going to have to lay down some ground rules.

Relief rolled through me, relief that they weren’t going to make Charlie drive back alone or stay at a motel by himself for the weekend.

“Look,” I said, holding out the phone, trying to read his mind as he read the text. He didn’t look like anything other than normal Charlie, so perhaps the moment I’d imagined was just him clinically considering our next steps, PDA-wise.

“I almost feel sorry for them,” he said, the smile returning to his face. “They think we’re only friends, but they still need to guarantee—because they’re responsible adults—that we’re painfully aware that we can’t sneak into each other’s bed and bang one out in the Rockies.”

“Oh my God.” I laughed, horrified as always by the shocking pictures Charlie liked to paint.

He was a damned artist that way.

He continued, grinning like a fool. “They’ll lay down those rules, we’ll agree, and they’ll feel great about themselves. And then… dun dun dunnnnn—they’ll witness us holding hands and snuggling on the couch. They’re going to lose their shit.”

I laughed, but snuggling on the couch? The thought of that made my palms sweaty and my stomach light. Charlie’s hands on me? My body curled against his body?

Gah—snuggling with Charlie Sampson seemed dangerous, like an activity I should avoid at all costs.

But that was just me—I wasn’t cut out for fake dating. I was the kind of person who didn’t even like hugging family members, so how on earth was I going to snuggle with Charlie?

“Right?” he asked, looking at me expectantly.

“What?” I realized I’d drifted away into my own thoughts, so I gave a tiny nod and said, “Yes. Right.”

He smirked like he knew what I’d been thinking, which was impossible. He couldn’t have known, yet the glimmer in his eye made me wonder if he’d been thinking about couch snuggling as well.

“Grab your coat, then,” he said, and I realized he must’ve asked me if I was ready to go.

We walked back to the condo, neither of us in a hurry for “ground rules” discussions, and I took a deep breath before opening the door.

“Quit worrying,” Charlie said. “It’s vacation time, Mitchell.”

I looked over at him, seemingly unconcerned about anything, and I let out my breath.

He was right.

I was on vacation, and I was going to have a great time.

Even if it killed me.