“I’ll let you be the bigger, badder one,” I teased, tucking my hair behind my ears, dying to know what was going on in his head.
“Oh, you’ll let me.” He rolled his eyes. “What’s in it for me?”
Now I rolled my eyes. “You really are a dick. How about you’re just being a nice friend?”
“Coworker,” he corrected, and I heard the vibration of his phone as he pulled it out of his pocket and glanced at the notification.
“That’s right—coworker,” I said, feeling a little weird about his correction. I didn’t care about being Charlie Sampson’s friend, but it felt like a tiny rejection every time he made it clear he’d never be my friend. “God forbid you admit you were wrong about the friendship thing.”
“Right?” His jaw clenched as he looked at his phone, and then he turned off the screen and dropped it onto the table. Not angrily, but like he was done with it. His gaze came back to mine, and even though he gave me his smart-ass smirk, it didn’t reach his eyes when he said, “I’d rather die than be wrong.”
“I’d die to prove you wrong,” I teased, “so we’re kind of similar on this front.”
“Only not.”
I reached across the table, grabbed his sleeve, and gave his arm a shake, desperate to convince him and also bizarrely compelled to shake that detached expression off his face. “Please do this. Please. Please. Do it. Do it.”
That made his mouth curve into a slow, wide smile as he set one very big hand on mine, trapping it against his biceps. “You’re begging—I like this.”
“So you’ll do it?” I asked, a little taken aback by the power of his grin. Or maybe it’s the power of the grin/muscular-arm-under-my-palm combo.
“I’ll follow you to your house and stay just long enough to stir the pot.” He exhaled dramatically, shook off my hand, and said, “I’ll let you watch the master, and hopefully you’ll pick up a few things.”
“Are you finished?” I asked, staring pointedly at his empty plate. “I want to get rolling on Operation Ditching Scott.”
“So impatient,” he said, reaching out a hand and messing up my hair. “My bright-eyed student.”
“My dumbass instructor,” I said, smacking his hand before fixing my hair. “Let’s go.”
CHAPTER FOURTEEN Charlie
What the fuck was I doing?
Going to her house??
I’d been serious about trying to help her, mostly because Bailey seemed so wide-eyed and trusting that she was going to be shattered when reality reared its ugly head. I knew we weren’t going to be able to stop it, because life, but at least if we fought, she wouldn’t feel helpless.
I fucking hated feeling helpless.
Because helplessness was a little like waterboarding (I said a little). Someone else has all the control while you feel like you can’t breathe and like it’s never going to stop.
Logically you know it will—eventually that bucket is going to be empty, right?—but that doesn’t help the panic when the dousing is constant.
God, I’m so fucked-up.
But helping her was one thing.
Going to her house to help her?
Terrible idea.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN Bailey
“Does my hair look okay?” Charlie asked.
I stopped digging for my keys and looked at Charlie, who was giving me a goofy smile and patting his head like he cared. I shook my head and muttered, “You’re stunning.”
“Why, thank you.”
When I got the door unlocked, I took a deep breath before walking inside. No one was in the kitchen, but I could hear my mother’s voice in the living room.
“Be a dick,” Charlie muttered, his voice deep in my ear, and it made me shiver. Which made him say, “I felt that.”
I turned and looked at him, blinking fast at the sexy grin lining his face. He had one of those half smiles that suggested he knew a lot about all the things I knew only a little about. He said, “What? I didn’t mean anything by it. I was just stating the fact that I felt you get a chill.”
I swallowed and hated that my cheeks were insta-hot. “Okay.”
“From my mouth’s closeness,” he teased, and I would’ve gotten irritated if his words weren’t followed by the laid-back chuckle that I’d heard him use all day at work with Theo.
Casual. Harmless.
“Bay?” my mom yelled. “You home?”
“Yeah,” I said, grabbing Charlie’s sleeve and pulling him into the living room with me. He grunted quietly in response to my bossiness, and I said, “Sorry I’m late.”
But when we got fully into the room, I let go of his arm and crossed mine tightly over my chest, hating what I saw. My mom was leaning on Scott on the couch, her feet tucked underneath her like she’d never been more comfortable in her life. He was wearing flannel pajama pants, a baggy T-shirt, and those motherloving white crew socks that made me irrationally angry.
God, what if I’m too late to stop this from becoming our new normal?
“Oh.” My mom looked surprised at the sight of Charlie. “Hey there, person I don’t know.”
“Yeah,” I said, tucking my hair behind my ears. “This is Charlie—we work together.”
“Hi, Charlie,” my mom said, and when I glanced over at him—
Holy crap.
Charlie gave her the world’s most charming smile. It wasn’t the hitched-up-on-one-side, lazy grin that I’d seen so far, but a full-on smile that belonged on an ad for whitening toothpaste. Squinty eyes, pronounced dimples; he looked nice, for God’s sake.
I stared at him, fairly certain my mouth was hanging open as he grinned and said, “Hi—it’s really nice to meet you.”
My mom’s smile stretched all the way up to the top of her head—she was positively glowing as she looked at Charlie. Scott stood and held out a hand. “Hey, Charlie. I’m Scott.”
Charlie’s charming grin melted down into his sarcastic smirk as he shook Scott’s hand. “Nice to meet you. You’re Bay’s dad?”
I bit down on my lip; he was such a shit.
“No,” Scott said, looking mildly uncomfortable. “I’m a friend of her mom’s.”
“Friend, huh?” Charlie said, letting his eyes roam down over Scott’s pajama pants and stockinged feet. “Okay.”
“Let’s get a soda,” I said, practically pulling Charlie into the kitchen. As soon as we rounded the corner and were out of their line of sight, I looked at him with wide eyes.
And then he grinned. He grinned like he was victorious, and I dissolved into giggles that sounded ridiculously high-pitched as I tried to make them quiet.
“You are the worst,” I said, trying to talk and laugh quietly.
“Did you see his face?” Charlie asked, still smiling. “I think he wanted to hit me.”
“Shhhshh—listen.”
My mom was talking quietly, and we both craned our necks to hear.
“Oh, he didn’t mean anything by it,” my mom said in a placating tone, which made Charlie throw an elbow into my ribs.
“Oh yes, I did,” he whispered, sounding crazy-proud of himself.
“Oh yes, he did,” Scott murmured, sounding petulant. “Trust me, I know teenage boys.”
I rolled my eyes and so did Charlie.
“Can you just be nice to Bay’s friend?” my mom asked. “No big deal, just nice.”