Betting on You(13)

I saw his Adam’s apple bob around a big swallow, and his gaze shifted just past my shoulder, like something behind us was in need of his eyes. For a second I thought he wasn’t going to respond, but then he said, “No, we broke up.”

“Oh. I’m sorry.” I slowed my bounce and looked at his face, and for some reason it mattered that the sadness was still there. I could feel the ache in his eyes; his melancholy was familiar, a friend we had in common. “I am really, really sorry, Charlie.”

His eyes came back to me as he shrugged and slowed as well. “What’re you gonna do, right? It had to end sometime. What about you? Are you still with Mr. Skintight Shirt?”

I pictured Zack’s hand on Kelsie’s lower back as she ordered coffee that morning, and my stomach got tight. I still couldn’t believe he shared grins and the sound of milk steaming with her now. I was fine with him moving on, but why did our moments have to move with him? I sighed before sliding into a Who cares grin and saying, “Nope—we broke up too.”

“Must be something going around, huh?” he said, and I could tell by the rigid set of his jaw that he was over this mindless small talk that pressed on his wound.

“I guess,” I murmured, unsure of what else to say.

“You two aren’t jumping!” The DJ sounded like he was eating the microphone as he called out Charlie and me.

I rolled my eyes and Charlie kind of smirked, but we both started jumping again. He put his hands into the pockets of his flight suit and said, “And the parents? How’s the divorce thing going on your end?”

“My mother is seeing someone now, so that’s fun,” I said, unsure why I was actually answering his question. He was obnoxious Mr. Nothing, a stranger I didn’t know or particularly care for, yet I kept going. “And my dad seems to be losing his verve for buying expensive plane tickets, so God only knows when I’m going to visit him again.”

“Their dating is the worst, isn’t it?” He gave me another one of those looks that spoke volumes, like the one he’d given me for a split second on the plane three years ago, and he said, “My mom has a boyfriend who pretty much lives with us right now, and I can’t tell you how much I love it when he eats my Pop-Tarts. Like, just the sight of him at the table in the morning puts me in a murderous rage.”

I laughed at that, a genuine, feels-good-to-the-core laugh, because I felt seen. Someone, even if it was just Charlie from the plane, knew exactly how I felt. “For me it’s soda. He drinks gallons of regular Coke, but then I can’t—”

“You can’t make your halfsies,” he interrupted, his mouth turning up in a small smile.

A startled laugh escaped me. I was shocked that he would immediately remember the soda and get it. “Bingo.”

Also—wow—was that a genuine smile?

The music stopped and the DJ was back to deep-throating the microphone. “All right, squadron, let’s bounce on out of here, grab ourselves a doughnut, and head to the Milky Way for launch.”

“I’m assuming that’s a training room?” I muttered, disappointed that our parental-horror-story exchange was over before it’d begun. I couldn’t explain it, but our fleeting moment of commiseration had felt good.

It was nice to have a partner in suffering.

God—how weird was that, that I actually wanted to talk to Mr. Nothing?

Maybe I was coming down with something.

“Or they’re slingshotting us into orbit,” he said, looking at the deep-throating DJ with an expression so disgusted that it made me want to laugh. “Either way, it’s probably gonna be painful.”

“Probably,” I agreed, and Nekesa joined us as we exited the trampoline area and were ushered down the hall.

Once we got to the Milky Way, we were split up into four groups: Red Dwarfs, White Dwarfs, Protostars, and Red Giants.

Charlie asked without raising his hand, “Because we’re all stars. Seriously?”

I could hear people snickering, but the perky lady in charge of our training class gave him a wide Miss America smile, totally unfazed by his snark. “You got it, hon. We thought it would be real excitin’ to use the stars for our four teams.”

He put his hands into the pockets of his pants and looked down at his feet, almost as if he was working hard to keep his sarcastic thoughts to himself.

That’s new.

Although, to be fair, Charlie actually seemed like he’d completely changed from the last time I’d seen him.

He was taller, but not in a typical he’s-grown-a-little-in-the-past-couple-years way. No, Charlie had to be, like, at least six foot three now—he was big.

Not only that, but his face had changed. The dark eyes still twinkled with trouble, but the face they were set in had popped from boyish softness into chiseled edges.

He had that whole contradiction thing going on, I supposed. Boy and man. Mischievous and intense.

The promise of multitudes.

Yeah, Nekesa was right—he was very attractive.

Not to me—God, no—but objectively speaking, he was a handsome guy.

I pulled out my phone—no messages—and after a brief perusal of the crowd, my eyes went back to Charlie.

Who was listening to the speaker like an interested new employee.

Wow—he really had changed.