“Well, if it doesn’t, I’ll just go back to the murder plan.”
“Smart. You’d probably be one hell of a killer.”
“Why would you say that?” I grabbed the remote from my nightstand and started flipping. “I just told you I hate confrontation.”
“It’s the half-diet, half-regular thing with your soda. You’re meticulous, like a total sociopath. You’d probably chop up a body on a tarp and individually wrap each section in ziplock baggies and newspapers. While wearing rubber cleaning gloves. Wouldn’t even spill a single drop of blood.”
“Oh my God,” I said, laughing in spite of myself. “That’s pretty dark, even for you.”
“You’re the murderer.”
I sped through the channels until I found a rerun of Psych. “Says you.”
“Listen, about the bet—” he started, and I cut him off.
“Yeah, I don’t think it’s a good idea,” I said, feeling guilty for even discussing it.
“It’s not—it’s a great idea.” He dove right in like he was excited about the wager. “So here’s what I’m thinking. Since we’re all going to be working the front desk, it’ll be cake to see them in action. I say we give it thirty days or a hookup, whichever comes first.”
I crawled under the covers and repeated, “Nope. I have no desire to make a bet with you about my best friend.”
“What if I said your refusal to wager has nothing to do with that.”
I sighed. “And I suppose you’re going to tell me what you think it actually has to do with.”
“You got it.”
Charlie’s confidence in his own opinions was truly remarkable.
“The real reason you don’t want to make the bet is because Nekesa is your friend and you know you should have faith in her. But deep down, you also know the truth about love. You try to deny it, like a little kid convincing themselves that they didn’t see their parents putting Santa labels on the presents under the tree, but it’s there, deep in your psyche.”
“You don’t know jack about my psyche,” I said as I rolled over and snuggled deeper into the covers. “We’re not all jaded like you.”
“You saw her and Theo,” he continued, ignoring me, “and you know that as much as she might like her boyfriend, she has chemistry with that prep school jackass. Love is fickle, and everyone—even Nekesa—is capable of infidelity when faced with chemistry.”
“Wrong,” I muttered, then added, “And you’re a ghoul, by the way.”
“I’ll take your flippant insult as your compliance.” And before I could say no, absolutely not, Charlie’s deep voice asked, “So what’re you going to give me when I win?”
This time I didn’t try to hide my irritated sigh. “No idea.” I took off my glasses and set them on the nightstand. “I’ve got sixty-eight dollars in my bank account and a visually impaired cat, so I’m afraid it’s slim pickings. But you’re not going to get it, so I’m not too concerned.”
He was back to crunching something again. “Let’s just say that when I believe what will happen happens, you have to be at my beck and call for an entire week. If I need a ride somewhere, you have to squeal up to my house as soon as I ring. If I need someone to swing into Baker’s and buy me a Snickers bar and a box of triple-XL condoms, you are my smiley little rubber Snickers wench. Work for you?”
“First of all, you’re disgusting and you wish.” I laughed in spite of myself because when he wasn’t being negative, he was funny in his own way. “But fine, because it’s NEVER. GOING. TO. HAPPEN. Instead, you’ll be scooping Mr. Squishy’s litter box every day. You’ll be my smiley little litter box wench.”
“Three things,” Charlie said. “First, I’m not worried about losing. Second, that is such an idiotic name for a cat. And third…”
He paused, not finishing his statement until I finally asked, “What’s the third?”
“The third is that of course you have a cat. I have never met anyone in my life who’s more of a ‘future cat lady’ than you.”
I turned off my lamp and closed my eyes. “I’m sure you mean that to be insulting, but I accept it as a compliment because cats are awesome; thank you, Charlie. And I’m going to sleep now. G’night.”
“Cats are the worst, actually.” He scoffed and said, “And g’night to you too, Glasses.”
As tired as I was, it took me forever to fall asleep after we hung up. There was some morsel of truth in Charlie’s notions about love.
Logically, I knew better.
But his example about chemistry had been true with my parents. No one cheated, but exposure to chemistry outside of their relationship had shown them that they no longer had it.
And it’d been true with Zack, though beer had played as big a part as chemistry.
I knew Charlie was wrong, but his words had given voice to that tiny part of me that questioned everything.
And that voice didn’t need any encouragement.
CHAPTER ELEVEN Bailey
I walked into the kitchen the next morning, starving and half-asleep and totally regretting my decision to ignore the alarm the first three times it went off. I had to be at Planet Funnn in thirty minutes for day two of training, so I was going to have to wolf down my bagel, throw my hair into a ponytail, and put on makeup when I got there.
“Good morning, my sole offspring,” my mom said, not looking up from the newspaper that was on the table. The room smelled like the Folgers coffee that she guzzled by the pot, and I wondered if we had enough almond milk for me to make it into a decent cold brew.
“Good morning, matriarch,” I muttered, opening the pantry and grabbing the package of everything bagels. I pulled one out and put it into the toaster, and I was reaching for a plate when IT happened.
Scott walked into the kitchen wearing plaid pajama bottoms and a faded white T-shirt that I could see a forest of chest hair through. “Well, good morning!”
“Oh my God.” I yanked down my sleep shirt （even though it went to my knees） and crossed my arms over my braless chest. “Um, I didn’t know—”
“It’s, uh—it’s okay.” He held up a hand and gave me the world’s most awkward smile, looking mortified. “I have a daughter your age so…”
He shrugged and looked like he wished the room would swallow him.
“You’re fine,” he mumbled. “I have to go shower anyway.”
And then he turned and walked right back out of the kitchen.
I think I stared at the spot where he’d appeared （and quickly disappeared） with my mouth hanging wide open, but I’m not sure. Time stopped and sounds got furry as the ramifications of everything slapped over me. He’d stayed the night. He had stayed the night… with my mom… in our apartment. Like he lived there. Like he belonged there.
What did it mean?
Surely this wasn’t just going to be a onetime thing, right? My heart raced as I wished so badly that it was, even though I knew better. Was he slowly moving in now—was that it? And shouldn’t my mother be worried about what this said to me about sex or something? Shouldn’t someone be protecting me from that kind of bullshit?