“Shut up, loser,” I said, reaching out a hand to tug on his tie. He looked hot—he did—in black pants, a plaid button down, and a black tie. “You look like someone I’d call cute if I didn’t know you drink poop water.”
“Aww.” He let go of my arms and tugged on one of my curls instead. Then he looked at my mouth, raised his eyebrows, and asked, “May I, Girlfriend?”
Whoa. There was that superb acting again, because something about him calling me his girlfriend made warmth squeeze me like a hug. I looked up at his lips and Ohhh—he wants to kiss me again.
Just a game—enjoy it and quit overanalyzing.
I gave a nod that made his eyes crinkle around his smile as I said, “Of course, Boyfriend.”
His hands moved to my cheeks and his mouth lowered, and stopped just above mine. “What do you want here? Romantic and sweet, or hot and heavy?”
“I get to order like I’m at a drive-up window?” I asked, joking because my heart was suddenly pounding in my chest.
“Yep,” he said, giving me more of his charming grin. “May I take your order?”
I thought through my choices, and then came up with, “Okay. So pretend you’re obsessed with me, and I just told you that I’m moving to Moldova in the morning. This will be our one and only kiss, so you have to make it epic.”
“Why Moldova?” he asked, his eyebrows scrunching together in confusion.
“Why not Moldova? I mean, it’s coastal, right?”
“I don’t think so.” There was a smile in his voice as he said, “And doesn’t it cozy up to Ukraine?”
“Does it?” I breathed, my stomach getting a bat-sized butterfly as his eyes were so close, I felt like our lashes could brush. My voice was barely there as I said, “I can’t remember.”
“I honestly have no idea,” he agreed, moving even closer, his response low and deep.
“About that kiss,” I whispered, his eyes making me feel more daring than I actually was.
His hands tightened on my cheeks, and his mouth came down a little hard on mine. In a good way. He gave me a wide-open mouth kiss, angling his head perfectly to make the kiss feel deeper, hotter.
Holy shit.
When Charlie kissed, there was no hesitation. It was like he somehow knew exactly what I wanted and magically delivered it with just a little more than I’d even known to want. A shiver slithered through me as that talented boy somehow used suction to crank it even hotter, and my hands came up to rest on his chest.
He made a noise—a growl?—and he said against my lips, “I like feeling your hands on me while I kiss you.”
“Yeah?” I whispered, moving my fingertips the tiniest amount over his shirt.
“Oh yeah,” he said, and the look in his eyes made me a little breathless.
His mouth came back to mine, his teeth scraping over my bottom lip, and—
“Christ,” Scott said, walking into the room from the kitchen. “Can you two please cool it on the PDA?”
I jumped back from Charlie, but his hand casually moved to my hand, his fingers sliding between mine.
“Sorry,” I said, rubbing my lips together as my cheeks burned.
“Same,” Charlie added.
I looked at him out of the corner of my eye as a warm, bubbling buzz thrummed all around me. I wanted to laugh, to giggle like a moron, as his big hand squeezed mine.
My mom came down the stairs at that moment, breaking up the tension as Scott told her how gorgeous she looked. It was disgusting and I wanted to slap his grinning face, but I also couldn’t help but recognize that my mom looked blissfully happy.
Damn, damn, damn.
The bubbles I had from the kiss popped and went flat as I watched the two of them. She deserved to look that happy. I wanted her to be that happy.
But it wasn’t as simple as happiness, because what if that happiness changed everything?
Because my dad had seemed happy when he’d started seeing Alyssa, but just a few months later, he stopped attending our weekly Zoom chats and kept forgetting to respond to my texts.
He remembered to pen funny replies when Alyssa tagged him on Instagram, but he couldn’t seem to remember to reach out to his one and only daughter. I hated it so much, but it would be a thousand times worse if that happened with my mom.
Because my mom was more than just a mom to me; she was my everything.
So what happened to our us if she and Scott became the big US?
We loaded into his car, and he drove to the restaurant. I was quiet in the back as they talked about the chef who’d be cooking that night, and Charlie leaned closer and said, “Can I give you some kissing feedback?”
“No.” I felt my eyebrows screw together in irritation, both at the way my worries were ruining my fun and at the idea of Charlie criticizing the way I kissed.
But then—dammit—I needed to know. “Okay—what?”
“Be careful with that breathy little noise you make when a guy kisses you,” he said quietly, his voice making a tiny shiver slither down my spine. “It’s a little too sexy, and might give someone the wrong idea.”
“I’m sorry, but （a） I don’t make a breathy little noise, and （b） if I did, are you seriously slut-shaming the sound?”
He grinned so big, it was like a laugh. “Um, （c） yes, you do, and （d） not at all. It’s a fantastic sound that almost made me forget who I was kissing. But with great sexy sounds comes great responsibility.”
Almost made me forget who I was kissing. I didn’t like that phrase, even though it was how this was supposed to work. The whole thing was pretend, but for the love of God, no one wanted to hear that the person they were kissing liked forgetting who they were kissing.
I just said, “Got it.”
“By the way,” he went on, his voice rising to a normal volume, “I read about this gold-mining ghost town that’s only like an hour away. We should check it out tomorrow.”
“Ooh, for sure,” I said, torn between being disappointed by how easily he was able to move on and being a little excited about another day of exploring on our own.
“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）。