“Charlie?” Scott raised his eyebrows. “You’re more than welcome to join us.”
Ugh—he really was a nice guy, asking even when Charlie was a total pain in his butt.
“Thanks,” Charlie said, his fingers clenching between mine as he held my hand. “But if someone doesn’t keep an eye on this one, God only knows what she’ll do.”
They headed out for the slopes, and we went inside. I had a huge knot in my stomach, worried things were going to be awkward with us after what’d happened on the pullout sofa. I still had no idea what to think about what I’d felt for him, but I would prefer figuring that out on my own while our friendship remained unchanged.
God, please let things be normal.
Charlie’s phone rang when we got to the front of the line, and when he looked at the display, he said, “It’s my mom. Would you mind ordering for me so I can take it?”
I made sure my face remained cool as I said, “Sure.”
“What can I get for you?” asked the barista in the ski cap.
I placed our order and went to the other end of the counter, but I kept stealing glances at Charlie, who’d moved to stand beside the windows at the front of the store.
Was it his mom, or was it the ex that wouldn’t leave him alone?
And why did the thought of it being his ex make the knot of nerves in my stomach feel even heavier? She had nothing to do with me.
That thought made me pull out my phone and check my messages—still nothing from Zack—before putting it back into my bag.
A few minutes later I watched Charlie put his phone into his pocket before he came over and stood beside me. “Sorry about that. Apparently she just realized that she isn’t sure who my friend Bailey is, so she’s melting down about my safety.”
“Is it okay now?” I asked, remembering the way he’d sounded when discussing his family.
“Oh, yeah,” he said, grabbing our drinks as the barista set them down. “I told her you’re an uptight rule-follower, so now she’s thrilled.”
I gave him an eye roll and turned, heading straight for the big fireside sofa.
“You seriously want to read all day?” he asked, setting his mug on the end table before taking off his jacket.
“It sounds amazing to me, but if you’d rather do something else…” I shrugged and trailed off as I set down my mug and plopped onto the couch.
His eyes narrowed. “What is up with you today? Since when do you want to do whatever I want to do?”
I shrugged again. “I’m just trying to compromise since it’s our last day.”
“You’re freaked out about the bed kiss,” he said, smirking like it was amusing to him.
“No, I’m not,” I said, not really knowing how to act. It was good that he didn’t seem freaked, but then again, shouldn’t he seem something about it?
“Oh, yes, you are—don’t lie to me, Glasses, come on.” He propped his feet on the coffee table and said, “Admit it.”
“Okay.” I pushed my glasses up my nose and turned my body so I was facing him. “I do feel a little… confused by the kiss.”
“Well,” he said, still looking unaffected. “Sometimes shit happens.”
He looked so casual, so not concerned about it, that I wondered if the emotions had been all in my head. “Seriously? Shit happens is your analysis?”
His smirk disappeared and he swallowed, looking… something. Uncomfortable, maybe? Nervous? He picked up his coffee and said, without looking at me, “Christ, why do we have to analyze it at all?”
“We don’t,” I said, desperately wishing to know the truth about how he felt. “？‘Shit happens’ says it all. Everything that needs to be said has been covered with the brilliant ‘shit happens.’？”
That made him look at me, but his expression was unreadable, aside from the tiny motion of his jaw flexing.
“What?” I asked, regretting my sharp tone because that definitely wasn’t going to restore normality with us. I forced myself to mimic one of his sarcastic little smiles, desperate to diffuse the tension, and said, “Quit staring at me, weirdo.”
“Sorry.” His dark eyes moved over my face, and a smirk appeared for the briefest of seconds before he raised his coffee to his mouth. “Now start reading that book to me.”
“What?”
He took a drink, his eyes a little crinkly with mischief, before he leaned forward to set his cup on the coffee table. “I didn’t bring a book, so you’re going to have to read aloud.”
“Why would I do that?”
“Why wouldn’t you?” He glanced down at my book. “Are you ashamed of what you’re reading?”
“No.” I was rereading Dodging the Duke for like the twentieth time in my life. “But I doubt it’s your jam.”
“Historical fiction?”
“Historical romance,” I clarified.
“Porny?”
“Not really.”
“Then read it aloud.”
I rolled my eyes and said, “Only if you read the duke’s lines.”
“Is he cool?”
“Oh yeah.”
“Hot?”
“On fire.”
“Fine,” he said, shrugging. “I’ll do it.”
“Shut up.” I couldn’t believe it. “Seriously?”
“I’m only doing it because you were so confident that I wouldn’t. Can’t have you being right, can I?”
He scooched closer to me on the couch so we could both see the pages. I opened the book, caught him up to what was happening and where I’d left off, and then I started reading.
“？‘She smiled,’？” I read out loud. “？‘Her cheeks were pink as their eyes held, but surely it was only due to the warmth of the room.’？”
I looked up, and his dark eyes were doing that mischievous twinkling thing. He cleared his throat and said in a ridiculous British accent that made him sound like a chimney sweep from Mary Poppins, “？‘Miss Brenner, would you care to see the gardens?’？”
It started with giggles, and after another page of this, we were both cackling. Leave it to Charlie to make reading into a noisy, hilarious, absolutely not relaxing activity. It seemed like something Charlie would tire of quickly—one of his little games—but he actually got into the book.
We sat on that couch for a couple hours—literally—laughing and obnoxiously reading. And when Charlie got up to refill our coffees, I realized that he might’ve just given me the perfect date.
I mean, we weren’t on a date and it was morning, but if I read about this coffee shop excursion in a book, I would be creating a whole Pinterest mood board on it because it was one of those kicking-and-screaming-into-my-pillow scenes in a book.
They’re reading together in a coffee shop!
I watched him pour a splash of cream into his Americano, and I wondered if Mr. Nothing was gone forever. Because when I looked at him now, I saw only my friend Charlie. He still confused the hell out of me, but he was nothing like the jerk I’d once thought him to be.
Weird how things could change so much in such a short time.