Betting on You(49)

“Thank you.”

“And terrifying,” I added. “I know you’re Charlie, but doesn’t the thought of just showing up make you nervous?”

I expected him to say no, but he didn’t.

“Of course,” he said matter-of-factly. “But I also know that they’re not going to want to throw away their mountain retreat, so they’ll decide to deal with it for the sake of preserving the weekend that Scott has already paid for.”

He’s right. His confidence bolstered mine, so much so that I heard myself say, “Okay, so maybe we should do this.”

Did I just squeal?

Holy shit, I couldn’t believe we were going to do this.

“Atta girl.”

“Shut it.” I felt mildly relieved that I’d made the decision, but immediately my brain switched into planning mode.

“Wait—what about your mom? Do we need to ask her if it’s cool for you to run off for a few days?”

“Nah.” He cleared his throat and said, “She trusts me.”

“For multiple days? Out of town?” I asked, shocked. “That’s a whole lot of trust for a kid in high school.”

“One of those divorce things,” he said, sounding tired on the other end of the phone. “She’s so busy with the boyfriend and my younger sister that anytime I’m not in her hair, I think she breathes a sigh of relief.”

“Bullshit,” I said, feeling a bit of a gut punch for him in that moment. Whether it was true or not, it made me sad that he felt like his mom didn’t want him around. “I’m sure that’s not true.”

His voice was quieter than usual, a tinge more serious, when he said, “You’d be surprised.”

I didn’t know Charlie’s mom, so I tried to assume this was just what she was like and not a sweeping generalization of single parents.

But I’d be lying if I said that a tiny part of me heard his words and didn’t think, What if that eventually happens with my mom and me?

“It doesn’t matter, though,” he said, his voice louder and more stereotypically Charlie. “Know why?”

I rolled onto my side and asked, “Why?”

“Cuz I’m going to the mountains tomorrow.”

“Have you been before?” I liked the excitement in his voice. He sounded like he was genuinely looking forward to the road trip, and it sparked something in me.

I felt a little excited.

“Not in Colorado, but in Alaska,” he said.

“Duh,” I replied, picturing the White Mountains. “I forgot your cousins live there.”

“Duh, indeed,” he agreed. “I miss the mountains. Don’t you?”

“Yeah, I do,” I said, but I didn’t let myself think about home anymore. I’d spent so many hours closing my eyes and picturing my old house, and the only thing it ever did was make me sad.

It was better to forget. I asked him, “Do you ski?”

“No.”

“Do you want to try?” I asked.

“No.”

“I’m so happy to hear that!” Nekesa had been all about the skiing, but I just wanted to walk around the mountains and drink coffee at charming little shops. There might’ve been a time when I wanted to learn, but not while Scott was offering to teach me. “I don’t want to either.”

“Because of your clumsiness?”

“I’m not clumsy.” I laughed, grabbing the remote and turning on the TV. “Why would you say that?”

“You just have that I could fall over anything look about you.”

“Lovely,” I said, shaking my head. “Thank you.”

“I don’t mean it in a bad way,” he said, his deep voice teasing over the phone line.

“How could that ever be said in a good way?” I quipped.

“I just meant that with your skinny legs and big feet, you sometimes remind me of a puppy.”

“Oh my God.” I laughed. “This just keeps getting better and better.”

“What?” he said with a smile in his voice. “Puppies are cute. Puppies are adorable. People loooooove puppies.”

“Uh-huh,” I said, clicking into Netflix.

“Did I annoy you enough to make the nerves about Colorado go away?” he asked.

I leaned back against my pillow. “I can’t believe you’re going with me. It’s a little surreal, to be honest.”

Wildly, absurdly, overwhelmingly surreal.

“I know. I’m excited for Colorado, but I’m not sure about road-tripping with you.”

“What?” I found You’ve Got Mail under Romantic Comedies and clicked it on. “Why? I’m a dreamboat road-tripper.”

“I’ve traveled with you before, remember?”

Of course I did. He knew it. I knew it. Even if it felt like a lifetime ago.

I said, “Which is why I’m dreading this. Me, though—I’m a fantastic traveler.”

“Come on, Glasses,” he chided, and I could almost see his teasing smirk. “I bet you have every stop timed out, snacks packed in little baggies, and playlists created specifically for where you are on the map.”

It was a little jarring, how well he knew me.