Betting on You

Did I want to ignore reality and just be with Bailey? Fuck yes. That night with her in the blanket fort had been… shit, was there a word? It’d been everything, and I’d damn near wanted to cry when I climbed out and left her alone.

I’d never meant to kiss her that night. My only goal had been to make her less sad, but when she looked at me with those big eyes that I’d fucking dreamed about, I was selfish. I ignored common sense and lost myself in her, taking everything she gave me while clamoring for more.

Fucking moron.

Because now my selfishness might’ve ruined everything. If I hadn’t kissed her, I’d have her in my life every day—at the very least on every day that we worked together.

But now everything was broken.

She either wanted a relationship, which wasn’t happening because it would eventually destroy what we had, or she was so pissed at me for bailing that what we had was already destroyed.

And the terrifying thing was that I didn’t have a plan. For once in my fucking life, I had no idea how to proceed. I’d switched shifts out of sheer procrastination, needing to stay away from her until I could figure my shit out.

Because all I knew was that if I saw her right now, or talked to her on the phone, I might very well do something stupid like kiss her again or ask her out.

Beg her to love me forever.

And all of those things spelled certain death for Charlie-and-Bailey.

No, I was going to figure out a way to fix this so things didn’t change.

If she didn’t hate me so much already that she walked away forever.





CHAPTER FORTY-EIGHT Bailey




“So you can essentially have the entire basement to yourself.” Scott stuck out an arm as if to say All of this is yours, and I followed his gaze across the finished lower level of his house. “It’ll be like your own place.”

I gave him a smile and nodded. “Cool.”

My mom gave me a huge supportive grin, and I could tell she was happy I was trying. I’d finally realized I had no choice, so I supposed I might as well start trying to make the best of it.

Scott finished the tour of his house—our house in a month—and then he took my mom and me to lunch downtown. They excitedly discussed moving—one more month and it was done—and their wedding—six months—and the honeymoon they were going to be taking (Bora-Bora), and I jammed French fries into my mouth as quickly as I could.

Because old habits die hard.

Every fiber of my being wanted to fight Scott, to fight all of this change to my life.

Instead, I breathed in through my nose and tried to believe that everything would be fine.

My phone rang while I was eating my last fry, and I picked it up because I could see it was Nekesa.

“Hello?”

“Hey, um, could you come over?” She was crying. “Like, now?”

“Are you okay?”

“Yes,” she said, and she sniffled. “No. I mean, physically I’m fine, but—Aaron and I broke up…”

She trailed off into crying, and I glanced at my mom as I said, “I’m on my way.”

When I got there, Nekesa was home alone. She had ick mascara in the corner of her eye and a bright red nose, and I wrapped her in a hug and ached for her as she cried into my neck.

When she finally calmed down a little, we went into the kitchen and I made her tea while she sat on a stool and told me what happened.

“So the other night, when Theo gave me a ride home from work, he kissed me.”

“What?” I said, nearly yelling the word. “Theo kissed you?”

She nodded miserably. “He did, and I didn’t stop him.”

I just looked at her, letting her finish, while a sudden rush of guilt made me feel queasy.

“I’ve felt something for him for a while now, and I was ninety-nine percent sure it was friendship. But when he went in for the kiss, I, um, I guess I kind of let him. To see.”

“Oh my God,” I said, blown away.

“I know,” she said, shaking her head. “It only lasted for about two seconds, and then I pulled away, definitely knowing I was right about it only being friendship, but when I told Aaron, he freaked out.”

“You told him?” I knew my eyes were huge as I waited for the rest, but I couldn’t shake the feeling that I’d played a hand in this. If I’d said something more to her, or told her that I thought Theo was kind of an asshole, would that have changed the outcome?

“I had to,” she said, sniffling. “I had to be honest because I love him, right? So I told him, along with the words ‘I’m not interested in him; it was just a stupid moment,’ and he lost his shit. He said he’s going to kill Theo, and when I told him not to, he started to cry, Bay.”

“Oh no,” I said, feeling awful for both of them. “He cried?”

“He said he loved me,” she croaked, her voice tight, “but that I obviously need something he can’t give me.”

Why hadn’t I pushed harder when I’d seen them flirting? Why had I gone along with that stupid bet with Charlie? The guilt just gnawed at me because I knew this was partially my fault.

“Sweetie,” I said, putting my arms around her as she cried. “I’m so sorry. I’m sure he just needs time to cool off, and then he’ll be back. He loves you so much.”

When I let go of her, she wiped at her eyes and took a deep breath. “The thing is, Bay, this is all my fault. I had a boyfriend, and even though nothing was technically going on, I was way too close with Theo.”

I swallowed and didn’t think I could feel worse.

She shook her head. “All the lines got blurred. God, I wish I could go back and create a little distance, y’know?”

Okay—I was wrong. I could absolutely feel worse.

I couldn’t even look her in the eye because I was haunted by all those times my gut had told me to warn her. Though it wasn’t my place to tell her how close she could be with her guy friends, maybe I should have at least sucked up the awkwardness and had a conversation with her about it? So I just said, “Yeah.”

“Why didn’t you slap me?” She rolled her eyes and said, “Next time I’m being an idiot with a boy, will you please slap me? I will consider it the kindest best friend move, I promise.”

Yeah—I was obviously the devil and the absolute Worst. Friend. Ever.

“Still no word from Charlie?” she asked.

“No,” I said, pasting on a whatever expression when just the mention of his name made my heart hurt. “But you don’t need to worry about that right now.”

“Please? Please let me think about something other than my own mess.”

I shrugged, even though apathy was the opposite of what I was feeling. I rotated between wanting to sob because I missed my friend, and wanting to track him down and junk-punch him because I was so angry. I kept my voice casual when I said, “Okay. Yeah, still no word. I think he’s officially someone I used to know.”

“What the hell, man?” Nekesa said, looking irritated. “I can understand you two being on different pages about romantic feelings, but he was your best friend. How can he just bail?”

I scrunched my nose. “You are my best friend.”

“I know,” she said, “but so is he. You two have that insta-friend chemistry.”

“Had,” I corrected, clearing my throat in an attempt to clear away the tightness.

“Had,” she agreed with a sigh. “God, we’re pathetic.”

“Truth.”

Lynn Painter's books