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?”
I tilted my head and turned to him. “So you’re saying—”
“We could stand here and watch them skate, or we could stick with the plan and make them uncomfortable.”
Did he want to kiss me again?
“Let’s do that,” I said, a little too quickly, but the truth was that I was dying to kiss him again.
Actually, I assured myself as I let my eyes wander over the dimple in his chin, kissing Charlie was a great idea. Because there were always sparks when you kissed someone new the first few times; that was natural.
So it stood to reason that the more I kissed Charlie and made the newness wear off, the less sparky it would be and the more clinical it would become.
This, I thought as he looked down at me, this was a plan.
“Atta girl.” Charlie grabbed my hand and led me over to a huge pine tree. We were still in public, but the tree gave us a little privacy. I felt the trunk against my back as he lowered his mouth toward mine, so close that our breath mingled, and then he stopped.
Hovered, his dark eyes hot on mine.
Sending electricity to every nerve ending in my body as he waited for me to make a move.
I set my hands on his chest, feeling bold as I caught his lower lip between my teeth and dragged them along the edge. His breathing was a little ragged when I licked at the corner of his mouth, and then I angled my head the tiniest amount and closed my eyes, feeling a wild confidence that was new and downright intoxicating.
Charlie had been still the entire time I’d been toying, but just like that, he moved in closer, pressing my back against the tree as his mouth took over. It was like when summer sprinkles give themselves over to the crack of thunder, abruptly switching from a light tease of rain to a lightning-fueled downpour.
His hands clenched on my face—not painful, but more of a flex—and his body moved even closer as his lips and teeth and tongue went wild over mine. The game was forgotten and technique left behind as he kissed me like I was moving to Moldova and this was the last time we’d ever be together.
He kissed me like he’d been holding back for years and was finally giving in.
No kiss, in the history of civilization, had ever been that good, and I grabbed his shirt in both of my hands and did my best to give back as perfectly—and thoroughly—as I was getting.
A noise broke through the storm, and I could hear people walking in our general direction.
Charlie pulled back and watched me, his eyes traveling all over my face. He didn’t grin or make a joke, and his voice was gravelly when he said, “They’re watching us.”
“What?” I asked, touching my lips with my index finger. “They are?”
His Adam’s apple moved as he swallowed and nodded. “They stopped skating and they’re talking. Dramatically.”
“Seriously?”
“Oh yeah,” he said, looking toward the rink. “Trouble in paradise, I think.”
“Um, that’s really great,” I mumbled, still stuck in a post-kiss stupor. I tucked my hair behind my ears and rambled, “Yes. Great.”
That brought his eyes back to my face, and his mouth slid into a slow half grin. “You are fucking gorgeous when you’re kiss drunk, Mitchell, did you know that?”