Betting on You(69)

“I was hoping you’d reconsider skiing,” Scott said, looking expectantly at me in the rearview mirror. “And go with us tomorrow.”

“Oh.” I looked at his face in the mirror and felt like garbage. He was a decent guy, and I was trying to sabotage him, his relationship with my mom, and his vacation. Guilt gnawed at me as he looked at me like someone who was really trying.

Charlie gave me a look, eyebrows cocked to remind me I was supposed to be avoiding Scott’s attempt at father-daughter bonding. I inhaled through my nose and said, “Well, um, maybe Charlie and I can go there with you guys and hang out for part of the day, and then take off for ghost towns?”

I saw Charlie slowly shaking his head in my peripheral vision, disappointed, as Scott beamed and said, “We’ll take it.”

“You’re so soft,” Charlie whispered, but I just ignored him and looked out the window.

How was I supposed to be mean to the guy all the time when he kept doing nice things?



* * *



Dinner was incredible.

The food at the old-school steakhouse was over-the-top (in a good way).

Bread and salad and spaghetti and steak and potatoes—it was like three entire meals in one, and I devoured it. My dad was the meat eater in our family, so aside from a random burger here and there, we didn’t eat a lot of beef anymore.

Hence my attempt to wolf down every last bite.

My mom and Scott had enough wine to make them happy and not exceptionally aware of Charlie’s and my presence.

Which was what made it so fun.

First, Charlie and I made wagers on what the people at the table beside us would order. I won the most points, which meant that when we got back to the condo, Charlie was going to have to do all the dishes I’d left in the sink. It seemed like a cruel thing to do on vacation, but bets were only bets if everyone was held accountable.

Charlie’s words, not mine.

After that, we fell into a game of making each other’s food unpalatable. We hadn’t intended for that to become an activity—it just happened organically. First, I told Charlie to try my twice-baked potatoes, but as I held my fork in front of his face, the potatoes fell into his prime rib’s au jus. As penance, I had to try a bite of lumpy au jus, which made me gag and made us both giggle.

Then I poured horseradish into his risotto and made him sample it, which led to more giggles as he shivered in disgust. By the time Scott paid the bill, my stomach hurt from quietly laughing so hard.

The four of us took a walk around Breckenridge after dinner, and I was happy Charlie was pouring the fake boyfriending on thick by putting his arm over my shoulders, mostly because his body was warm and mine was not.

“Do you always have to hang all over each other?” Scott asked, looking at Charlie but wearing a teasing grin for once. “I mean, last week you were just friends.”

I laughed because he was right, and so did Charlie as he said, “True, but once your eyes have been opened, you can’t unsee what you’ve seen.”

“Did you really just say that?” I teased. “That was, um… heavy…?”

“With bullshit,” Scott said.

And my mom added around a laugh, “With total bullshit.”

“Maybe,” Charlie said, looking at them, “but the bottom line is, now that I’ve seen what Bay could be to me, seeing her as just a friend is impossible.”

I felt his words, felt the power of their potential as we walked. My stomach flipped over as I breathed in his cologne and felt his warm arm, anchoring me against him.

I allowed myself for a half second to pretend he meant what he’d said.

My mom’s voice crooning “Awwww” pulled my eyes wide open.

“Wow,” I whispered sarcastically to Charlie, hoping he hadn’t noticed the way I’d melted into him. “So good.”

But. Was it strange that at that moment, I wanted his words to be true? This whole thing was just a game, and the real Charlie Sampson was a huge pain in the ass, but in that mountain moment, under the gorgeous moonlight, I wanted fake Charlie to be real and to mean what he’d just said.

Oh my God, oh my God, oh my God.

I needed to get myself together.

None of this was real, and I needed to stop forgetting that.

“Right?” he said to me, but his mouth was straight, his eyes serious before he pulled them away and turned his head.

When we got to the town square ice rink, my mom and Scott decided they wanted to skate, even though they totally weren’t dressed for it. Charlie and I stood off to the side and watched them for a few minutes, skating in dress clothes and looking fairly adorable in spite of their age.

“I don’t think our fake dating is having an effect at all,” I said, watching Scott gesturing wildly while my mom laughed.

“We just need to go harder,” Charlie replied. “Cause more friction.”

“Do you really think it matters?” I asked, feeling discouraged as I stared at the old people having more fun than me.

“Would you rather do nothing?” he asked.

I glanced at him out of the corner of my eye.

“Seriously. Risk versus reward,” he said, sounding very sure of himself. “The risk isn’t high—unless kissing is risky business—so why not keep trying?”