“I bet you a hundred bucks that you can’t get her,” he’d said, and because I didn’t like his cocky smile, I’d replied with, “You’re on.”
But the last thing I had any interest in doing was pursuing Bailey.
For money, for fuck’s sake.
I said it just to shut him up.
But I knew Bailey would never understand that. Why would she?
So finding out I’d bet that I could “get” her—yeah, she’d lose her shit if she ever found out.
“What the hell is wrong with you, man?” Theo said, his face twisted in amused disbelief. “You’re going away with her for the weekend. Now’s your shot.”
“I’m not looking for a shot.” I glanced over his shoulder, wishing he’d shut his fucking mouth. Not only did I not want Bay to hear him, but I didn’t want someone else to overhear and think I was a prick like him. “Like I said, it was a joke.”
“Getting nervous that you can’t make it happen?” he asked, smirking like a creep.
I had a million smart-ass comments I wanted say at that moment, but guys like Theo were unpredictable. If you said the wrong thing and managed to wound their fragile ego, there could be hell to pay.
“No,” I said, lowering my voice so he’d take a hint. “But I know it won’t happen if she overhears you.”
And boom—it worked. Theo’s face slid into a sleazy grin and he nodded. The dude lowered his voice and said, “Slam dunk.”
I was relieved when he walked away （after a fucking absurd bro-handshake that included a shoulder bump）， but that didn’t mean there wasn’t still stress pinging around inside me.
Something about the road trip had me on edge. I couldn’t put my finger on whether it was the blowup that was sure to happen with the adults when we arrived in Breckenridge, or some… something that had everything to do with spending an entire weekend alone with Bailey.
I was… unsettled as I got into the car and started it up.
And that feeling didn’t go away when Bailey came out in a hooded sweatshirt that looked like it was going to swallow her whole, her hair in a slick ponytail, and a huge pair of sunglasses on and ready.
Damn. The on-edge feeling ratcheted up to an inching-toward-the-end-of-the-cliff level of on-edge as I watched her approach the car. Swear to God I heard Taylor Swift’s voice say, “Are you ready for it?”
Let the games begin.
I reached into my pocket for the TUMS and popped a few into my mouth. I saw Bailey’s eyebrow lift, which made my mother’s anxious voice—Find your calm, Charlie—swim in my head.
“You do realize that if Mr. Cleveland sees you parked here, he’ll lose his shit,” she said, opening up the passenger-side door and climbing into my car.
“I’m not worried about Cleveland. I dare him to censure us.”
“Wow.” She reached for the seat belt, her ponytail brushing her shoulders. “Are you a badass?”
“Obviously. You haven’t realized that by now?”
“Somehow I missed it,” she mused. And I relaxed a little.
“I don’t see how.” Good. This felt very normal for us.
“Are we getting snacks before we get on the interstate?”
“Duh.” I put the car in drive and floored it out of the parking lot. “Are we getting snacks—as if that’s even a question. What kind of a moron do you think I am?”
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX Bailey
“Okay—I’m exiting here,” Charlie said.
“Whatever.” I shrugged. “Get gas wherever you want; see if I care.”
“I will,” Charlie said, his mouth twitching into an almost smile. “Just wanted to warn you, in case you need to stretch or something.”
“No, I’m good, but thanks.” I sat straight up, moved my purse, then slid my feet back into my shoes. “Maybe you should stretch.”
“As if, Glasses. Come on.”
We’d been driving for six-ish hours, and we’d created a ridiculous game that was going to get me killed. Every time we stopped, we raced to the bathrooms. Literally. Whoever could sprint to the bathroom, use the facilities, wash their hands, and be the first to get back and touch the car was the big winner.
That person didn’t have to pay for gas or snacks, and they also got to drive and control the radio.
Unfortunately for me, he’d won at each stop.
And last time my foot had gotten stuck in the dangling seat belt I’d yanked off the minute we’d stopped, leaving me with a hole in my leggings and a bloody knee as I’d chased Charlie into the gas station.
It was a little unfair because he had no qualms about yelling “Look out, look out” and basically running over people, whereas I couldn’t bring myself to keep up the sprint when faced with oncoming foot traffic.
This time was going to be it, though. This time I would win.
“Okay—three gas stations up ahead. Which one do you want?”
“Don’t,” I said, rolling my eyes. “Don’t give me the pity choice. Just because I have yet to win doesn’t mean you need to feel sorry for me.”
“Oh, honey,” he cooed, coughing out a laugh as his eyes stayed on the road. “But I do feel sorry for you. That’s a nasty strawberry on your knee.”
“That you poured hand sanitizer on!”
“To keep away infection,” he said, smiling, and I let it go. He’d been kind of sweet after the fall. I could tell he felt really bad. It was a little bit adorable.
“Eddy’s Hot Stop,” I said. “Go, asshole.”
“Atta girl,” he said around a laugh as he hit the blinker.
I don’t know why, but there was something about the way he said “Atta girl” that made me feel warm everywhere.
I stared out the window as he turned into the lot and headed for a gas pump. The rule was that no one could start until the car was put in park.
“You look tense,” he said, slowly cruising toward the covered fuel pumps. “You all right there, buddy?”
“Don’t distract me,” I said, glancing over at him.
Which was a mistake, because he was grinning as if he’d never seen anything more amusing than me, poised and ready to jump from the car. “Wanna know why you’ll never win this game?” he asked.
“Oh, but I will,” I replied, biting the inside of my cheek so I didn’t smile back at him.
“It’s because you lack the killer instinct.”
“I do not,” I said, leaning forward as he started slowing.
“Yes, you do,” he said, and even without looking I could hear the smart-ass grin in his voice. “If you run into the bathroom and there’s one open stall and two of you ladies, are you going to push the other chick out of the way?”
Of course I wouldn’t. But I said, “If it means beating you, then yes.”
“Liar,” he drawled, and the way he said it brought my eyes back to his face again.
There was a challenge in his dark eyes as they met mine, in the wicked smile that turned up his mouth. If it were anyone else, looking at me like that, I would call it wildly flirtatious.
But this was Charlie.