Betting on You(29)
“Friend, huh?” Charlie said, letting his eyes roam down over Scott’s pajama pants and stockinged feet. “Okay.”
“Let’s get a soda,” I said, practically pulling Charlie into the kitchen. As soon as we rounded the corner and were out of their line of sight, I looked at him with wide eyes.
And then he grinned. He grinned like he was victorious, and I dissolved into giggles that sounded ridiculously high-pitched as I tried to make them quiet.
“You are the worst,” I said, trying to talk and laugh quietly.
“Did you see his face?” Charlie asked, still smiling. “I think he wanted to hit me.”
“Shhhshh—listen.”
My mom was talking quietly, and we both craned our necks to hear.
“Oh, he didn’t mean anything by it,” my mom said in a placating tone, which made Charlie throw an elbow into my ribs.
“Oh yes, I did,” he whispered, sounding crazy-proud of himself.
“Oh yes, he did,” Scott murmured, sounding petulant. “Trust me, I know teenage boys.”
I rolled my eyes and so did Charlie.
“Can you just be nice to Bay’s friend?” my mom asked. “No big deal, just nice.”
My mouth dropped wide open at my mom’s snarky tone, and Charlie raised his hands in the air like he’d just won the match. Oh my God—could his plan actually work?
“I have to go now,” Charlie said, looking down at me with a half smile, “but you’re welcome for the awesomeness.”
“Noooo,” I begged, grabbing his arm and shaking it. “You’re doing the Lord’s work here.”
“Seriously—my mom will freak if I’m late.”
“Fine.” I let go of his arm. “But can we do this more often? Like, will you come hang over here and just be awful?”
“Sounds like a party,” he said, his dark eyes traveling over my face before he stepped around me. “I’ve got to go home and study,” he said, leaning to see into the living room as he called out to my mom, “but it was really nice meeting you.”
“You too, Charlie,” my mom said, but Scott didn’t say a word.
Charlie left, and when I went into the living room, they both looked at me questioningly.
“So Charlie is a coworker, huh?” My mom gave me a funny little smile, like she wanted to pump me for info but knew it was too soon after Zack for her to push romance. She glanced at Scott before saying, “He’s really cute.”
I pictured his face, and yeah—he was really cute.
Really cute and really just so irritating.
“We’re just friends.”
“Thank God,” Scott muttered, and when we both looked at him, he said, “What? I just thought he seemed like a little smart-ass. Which is great for a friend, not so great for a boyfriend.”
“Wow,” my mom said, giving him a confused look with her eyebrows furrowed and her lips pursed.
“What?” Scott asked, his eyes moving from her to me and back again.
“Nothing,” she said, giving her head a shake. “I just did not expect you to be the one in this apartment with hard-and-fast boyfriend rules.”
He set his hand on her knee, made a goofy face, and said, “I am an enigma, don’t you know that?”
“I guess I forgot,” she said, smiling and dragging a hand through her hair. “You know… that you’re an enigma.”
She made an obnoxious face at me, like Get a load of this guy, but I couldn’t laugh or even smile because I was frozen. I was frozen as I watched them happily laugh together.
God, am I too late?
How was I supposed to jump in front of the Mom-Scott train when it was chugging along so well? I desperately wanted her to be grinning and happy, I really did, but I just didn’t want some guy to be the one responsible.
I didn’t want him to be responsible.
Not because I was like some third grader screaming You’re not my dad to every man my mother dated; I was good with her having a social life. She’s my favorite person in the universe and deserves every good thing.
But on the other hand, like, dammit if I wasn’t a twelfth grader who knew exactly how quickly things changed. My father introduced me to Alyssa—a girl he was “seeing”—via FaceTime on a Friday in September, and by the end of that month, he’d completely stopped calling and texting me.
Total radio silence, which, for silence, was overpowering in its utter nonexistence.
How hard was it to send a random text every once in a while, just to let your CHILD know you were thinking about them?
And that was the rub, honestly.
He obviously just wasn’t. Thinking about me.
I saw on Alyssa’s socials yesterday that he and Alyssa had just come back from Hawaii.
So sue me for wanting to slow things down.
“I’m going to bed,” I said, needing to get out of there. “G’night.”
I made a quick break for my room and tried not to dwell on what was happening, but I was unable to put it out of my head as I changed into shorts and a T-shirt and climbed into bed.
What if he moves in?
I knew it was way too early for that, but I couldn’t push the thought out of my head. What the hell would I do if Scott moved in? The thought of someone—anyone—moving into our life made my stomach hurt.