Betting on You

The night before we were supposed to leave, Nekesa called me, crying.

“Oh my God—what’s wrong?” I asked, sitting on my bed, watching a rerun of Monk.

She was sniffling and trying to keep it together, but the moral of the story was that she’d come in an hour late the night before (because she’d fallen asleep at Aaron’s house) and gotten into a fight with her parents, and now they wouldn’t let her go on the trip. She was grounded indefinitely, only allowed to leave the house for work and school.

I knew the proper response would be something nurturing, words to make my best friend feel better.

But oh my God, I couldn’t go without her! I just couldn’t.

“What if my mom calls your mom?” I asked, desperate. “Do you think that might help?”

“No,” she said, still crying. “This is big-time. I’m seriously grounded for months.”

“Noooooooo,” I groaned. It was too late for me to get out of the trip now, and I’d been so nice to Scott for letting Nekesa come along that he was totally going to push the whole I-want-to-be-your-pal agenda in her absence.

“Listen, I know you won’t want to,” she said, sniffling before loudly blowing her nose, “but what if you take Charlie?”

“Whaaat? What? WHAT!? No.” That was ridiculous. Right? It was ridiculous. I couldn’t take Charlie, dear God. That was batshit bonkers. My voice was a little high-pitched when I asked, “Why would I do that?”

“Listen.” She cleared her throat and said, “I mentioned the idea to Theo, and he agrees that it could—”

“When did you talk to Theo?” I interrupted. She told Theo she was grounded before even telling me?

“I just got off the phone with him.”

Whoa. I tried to sound casual when I asked, “You guys talk on the phone now?”

“Sometimes, but it’s no big deal,” she said, brushing it off. “Aaron knows and he’s fine with it.”

Should he be? I wondered how to proceed, because even though it wasn’t my business and she didn’t sound concerned, it felt like my friendly duty was to intervene.

“Are you sure that’s a good idea?” I said, trying to keep my voice light and breezy. Though I was anything but.

I knew Charlie would tell me to butt out, but Nekesa’s happiness was more important to me. I needed her to slow down and think before she had regrets. I said, “Don’t you think Theo is rather flirty with you?”

“Nah, he’s just a playful guy,” she said, and I could tell she truly believed it. “So anyway. Back to the trip. Call Charlie.” Huh. That was a quick change of topic, but… okay. I decided to dismiss it and focus on the current tragedy at hand.

I let myself flop back onto my mattress, starting to freak out at the mere idea of Charlie and me in Breckenridge. “I cannot take him on this trip—come on.”

“You don’t want to go alone, and he’s your other bestie. Why not?”

There were a million reasons, starting with the fact that he was Charlie Sampson.

Also—my other bestie?? Where. When. Why? How???

“Not only should you take Charlie,” she said, “but what do you think about pretending to date him?”

“What? Have you lost your mind?” I said, a little too loudly, when my mom and Scott were asleep in the room next door. I lowered my voice and said, “No way.”

I couldn’t even imagine it. It was weird enough when Charlie asked me to go to his friend’s party with him for support in dealing with his ex. But this was different. Pretending to be into Charlie romantically? Exploring what that entailed? No. No way.

Just the thought of it filled my stomach with nervous stressful butterflies, but it didn’t matter because it wasn’t happening.

No way.

“You two always say you’re only friends, right? Like, no chem whatsoever…?”

“Right. Absolutely no chemistry,” I said, which was true. For the most part. There might’ve been a small workplace flirtation that elevated my blood pressure, but it’d already been established in my mind that it was nothing. NOTHING. Two humans that happened to stand close together, and body temps naturally increase in moments like that. It was science. And NOT the chemistry kind of science.

Still, that didn’t mean I wanted to embark upon a weekend full of awkward false affections. No, no thank you. I added, “I’m actually feeling queasy at the mere thought of me and Charlie.”

“So who cares, then? Fake date the hell out of him. Do you realize the amount of tension that can be added to the Breckenridge weekend if you show up holding hands with Charlie?”

Holding hands? That felt… dangerous somehow.

“Nekesa, dear, this is real life,” I said. “Not a Hallmark movie.” Fake dating happened in movies, not in the normal world. It was wild that this behavior was even being suggested, and especially by my practical friend Nekesa.

“Just do it,” she said, sniffling. “What do you have to lose?”

God, Scott would absolutely lose his shit. It could even ruin the whole trip for him, which the good part of me didn’t want but the desperate part of me did. “But couldn’t I add the tension without fake dating him? Not that I’m even considering this, but his presence alone would make things testy. I don’t think I’d need to pretend to be into him.”

“Bay, you know so little about men,” she said, finally sounding like herself again. “My little sweet baby.”

“Screw you,” I said around a laugh, mostly because she was right. I knew very little about men.

Except for Zack. I knew everything about him.

Nekesa laughed—and then sniffled again—before saying, “I just mean that your dad hasn’t been around since you’ve been old enough to date, so you’ve been spared male stupidity.”

Nekesa was being helpful and sweet, but her succinct summation of just how long my dad had been absent caused a pinching feeling in my sternum.

I swallowed and pictured my dad’s face. “I suppose that’s true.”

“There’s this primitive, cavemanish thing that happens to fathers when they see guys they don’t like around their daughters. They become like hissing cats, peeing on your sweaters.”

“I don’t. Even. What?”

“And even though Scott’s not your dad, since he already hates Charlie, Theo and I predict he will go full-on defecating-on-every-cardigan if he sees Chuckles holding your hand.”

So why did those words continue to make my stomach dip? Why did just imagining it feel like I was treading into deeper waters? Even if it wasn’t real.

But maybe more importantly—Nekesa and Theo had discussed me and Charlie? Had she brought it up, or had he? And why would Theo be weighing in at all?

“And don’t you think—even if his presence does nothing to forward the Scott agenda—that Charlie would be fun to vacation with? I mean, this is the guy who created Garbage Tether, a game that makes us fight for trash duty because it’s so fun. He makes you enjoy taking out the trash, Bay! He’d be a riot on a mountain retreat.”

“What are you doing?” I asked, my voice rising an octave at the situation’s absurdity. “Why does it feel like you’re trying to set something up with me and Charlie?” My Spidey senses were tingling.

“That’s not it, Bay—trust me,” she said, and I could hear her little brother in the background. “I’m just trying to think of a way for the mountain weekend to still be good for you.”

“Hmm,” I mumbled, not sure I was buying it.

“And he really would be a blast on the road trip.”

She wasn’t wrong. As Charlie as he could be with his cynicism, he really was hilarious.

Hell, an entire house party had essentially broken out into applause at the sight of him.

I could hear Nekesa’s impatience growing. “Sooooo…?”

I took a big breath, the weight in my stomach getting heavier at the thought of this, at the realization that I was seriously considering this. Traveling with Charlie felt wildly intimate—regardless of what Nekesa said—and I wasn’t sure how to be casual about it.

“Soooo… for starters, I’m not sure I know how to ask him. I don’t want him to get the wrong idea.”

Honestly, if he said, Do you want to go to Colorado for the weekend with me and my family? I’d definitely be concerned that he was into me. And—God—I would hate it if he thought that.

I would die if he thought that.

Charlie wasn’t even comfortable calling me his friend. We were coworkers only in his mind, even though we both knew it was more than that, because that was the only way he could cope with the reality that his hypothesis was wrong.

“I’ve got you,” she said, sniffling again.

“And what does that mean?”

“Theo and I have… uh… actually been texting him in a group chat since we came up with the idea a half hour ago, so I think I can safely say he’ll respond well.”

“What? A half hour ago?” I sputtered. “How come you went to them with all of this before coming to me?”

“Because I know you, Miss Overreaction,” she said, and I could hear a smile in her voice. “I wanted to come up with a plan before I told you so you didn’t freak out about having to go with just Scott and your mom.”

“Nekesa!” My heart was hammering in my chest, panic rising. “Not cool!”

“It’s all done from love, my wonderful, sweet, oh-so-irresistible Bay.”

“Don’t try to compliment your way out of this,” I quickly snapped, but somewhere in the pit of my stomach I was thankful Nekesa broke the ice for me. Okay, so maybe she did know me. Too well.

“I have to get off the phone, but I’m adding you to the chat.”

“But do you—”

She had already hung up as my phone pinged from her text.

I looked down at the display as she sent me screenshots of their conversation.

The chain started with Nekesa texting—I can’t go to Breck—Bay is going to kill me.

After she explained what happened, and Theo tried making her feel better (catch up on your reading, troublemaker), Charlie texted—Bay’s gonna be devastated. You sure your parents won’t reconsider?

Something about his concern made me feel warm inside.

Nekesa: Positive

Charlie: So she’ll have to spend the trip with just her mom and Sock Boy. Fucking nightmare.

Nekesa: You should go in my place.

It felt surreal, reading their conversation; I felt like I was eavesdropping, even though I had permission.

Charlie: Dude hates me—try again.

I don’t know why, but it felt good that his initial response wasn’t something like No way.

Theo: Wait—that would totally amp the mom/boyfriend tension, tho, right?

Nekesa: YESSSSS OMG GO, AND FAKE DATE

Charlie: FAKE DATE. Are we in a fucking Hallmark movie?? How would that help?

Thank you, Charlie! At least it wasn’t just me who thought the idea was totally bonkers.© 2024 Nôv/el/Dram/a.Org.

Theo: If the bf hates you, he’ll hate you more if you’re holding her hand bc it means you’re not going away anytime soon. VERY threatening to his territory.

I rolled my eyes, feeling that claustrophobia again at the thought of me and/or my mom being Scott’s “territory.”

Charlie: Okay—that would definitely make the guy lose his shit. BUT. Odds are good he’ll just say no to me going.

Scott would say that.

Nekesa: Bailey and I were going to drive out after work tomorrow and meet them. So basically he won’t know you’re coming until you get there, and he can’t say no if you’re already in Colorado.

Was I—Bailey, who doesn’t let others cut in line—ballsy enough to just show up with him? Could I be? Did I want to be?

Charlie: That will definitely add to the tension, holy shit.

And that’s when I chimed in with: DEFINITELY. HOLY SHIT.

Theo: Bailey’s here!

Charlie: Even though it’s HOLY SHIT, I’ll do it if you want me to, Bay.

I squeaked in disbelief—or anxiousness or nervousness—because this idea felt like something that might actually happen.

And I wasn’t sure if I wanted it to or not.

Nekesa: DO ITTTTT I’m dying to hear what happens.

I texted: You’d seriously give up a few days of break? And pretend to be my boyfriend???

Seemed like a really big ask.

Theo: He’d pretend to loooooove you.

“Shut up, Theo,” I muttered to no one in the darkness.

Nekesa: You’re such an idiot. 😉

Charlie: I’d be in Colorado—that’s a big old HELL YES from me.

My phone started ringing—Charlie—and I answered with, “But he’ll probably be a dick to you the whole time.”

“I can handle it,” Charlie said, his voice gravelly like he’d been sleeping before the call.

“Hmmm.” I seriously didn’t know what to do. On paper, what Nekesa/Charlie/Theo were proposing could potentially help my Scott dilemma and make the weekend fun(ish). But there were so many other things to worry about.

My mom’s and Scott’s reaction when Charlie got there—that was an explosion of unhappiness guaranteed to happen. Traveling with Charlie for eight hours; been there, done that, and it wasn’t remotely enjoyable.

And—the biggie—pretending to date Charlie.

Our friendship was safe because it was labeled as only that. Friends. Hell, he labeled it not even that; he labeled us as just coworkers.

So what would happen when we played relationship for a weekend? It might be fine and just return to normal when we got home, but what if it didn’t? What if we crossed a line that we couldn’t come back from?

“Bay, if you don’t want me to, that’s totally fine.”

I didn’t know what I wanted. Taking Charlie sounded like fun and I didn’t want to go alone, but the thought of it set off screechingly loud alarm bells.

“Um,” I said, opening my nightstand drawer and digging for the coral nail polish while I tried to decide. “Well, for starters, I’m just afraid you’re saying yes to be nice.”

“Do I ever do that?” he asked dryly.

I smiled in spite of my nerves because that was a loaded question. He didn’t do things just to be nice, but he was also surprisingly thoughtful sometimes.

A walking contradiction, Charlie Sampson. “Well, no.”

“I think it sounds like a blast,” he said, “but if you’d rather not, it’s totally cool.”

I thought about the weekend, staying in a condo with just my mom and Scott, and I said, “I really want you to go, but I wonder if I should ask—”

“Nope,” Charlie said, cutting me off. “You do whatever you want about the weekend, but if you ask them, they will for sure say no. If we pull up in Breck, though, with you in my car, they can’t really send me back.”

There it was again—the ginormously ballsy move that I wasn’t sure I could pull off. I closed the drawer and flopped back onto my pillows. “That is positively diabolical.”

“Thank you.”

“And terrifying,” I added. “I know you’re Charlie, but doesn’t the thought of just showing up make you nervous?”

I expected him to say no, but he didn’t.

“Of course,” he said matter-of-factly. “But I also know that they’re not going to want to throw away their mountain retreat, so they’ll decide to deal with it for the sake of preserving the weekend that Scott has already paid for.”

He’s right. His confidence bolstered mine, so much so that I heard myself say, “Okay, so maybe we should do this.”

Did I just squeal?

Holy shit, I couldn’t believe we were going to do this.

“Atta girl.”

“Shut it.” I felt mildly relieved that I’d made the decision, but immediately my brain switched into planning mode.

“Wait—what about your mom? Do we need to ask her if it’s cool for you to run off for a few days?”

“Nah.” He cleared his throat and said, “She trusts me.”

“For multiple days? Out of town?” I asked, shocked. “That’s a whole lot of trust for a kid in high school.”

“One of those divorce things,” he said, sounding tired on the other end of the phone. “She’s so busy with the boyfriend and my younger sister that anytime I’m not in her hair, I think she breathes a sigh of relief.”

“Bullshit,” I said, feeling a bit of a gut punch for him in that moment. Whether it was true or not, it made me sad that he felt like his mom didn’t want him around. “I’m sure that’s not true.”

His voice was quieter than usual, a tinge more serious, when he said, “You’d be surprised.”

I didn’t know Charlie’s mom, so I tried to assume this was just what she was like and not a sweeping generalization of single parents.

But I’d be lying if I said that a tiny part of me heard his words and didn’t think, What if that eventually happens with my mom and me?

“It doesn’t matter, though,” he said, his voice louder and more stereotypically Charlie. “Know why?”

I rolled onto my side and asked, “Why?”

“Cuz I’m going to the mountains tomorrow.”

“Have you been before?” I liked the excitement in his voice. He sounded like he was genuinely looking forward to the road trip, and it sparked something in me.

I felt a little excited.

“Not in Colorado, but in Alaska,” he said.

“Duh,” I replied, picturing the White Mountains. “I forgot your cousins live there.”

“Duh, indeed,” he agreed. “I miss the mountains. Don’t you?”

“Yeah, I do,” I said, but I didn’t let myself think about home anymore. I’d spent so many hours closing my eyes and picturing my old house, and the only thing it ever did was make me sad.

It was better to forget. I asked him, “Do you ski?”

“No.”

“Do you want to try?” I asked.

“No.”

“I’m so happy to hear that!” Nekesa had been all about the skiing, but I just wanted to walk around the mountains and drink coffee at charming little shops. There might’ve been a time when I wanted to learn, but not while Scott was offering to teach me. “I don’t want to either.”

“Because of your clumsiness?”

“I’m not clumsy.” I laughed, grabbing the remote and turning on the TV. “Why would you say that?”

“You just have that I could fall over anything look about you.”

“Lovely,” I said, shaking my head. “Thank you.”

“I don’t mean it in a bad way,” he said, his deep voice teasing over the phone line.

“How could that ever be said in a good way?” I quipped.

“I just meant that with your skinny legs and big feet, you sometimes remind me of a puppy.”

“Oh my God.” I laughed. “This just keeps getting better and better.”

“What?” he said with a smile in his voice. “Puppies are cute. Puppies are adorable. People loooooove puppies.”

“Uh-huh,” I said, clicking into Netflix.

“Did I annoy you enough to make the nerves about Colorado go away?” he asked.

I leaned back against my pillow. “I can’t believe you’re going with me. It’s a little surreal, to be honest.”

Wildly, absurdly, overwhelmingly surreal.

“I know. I’m excited for Colorado, but I’m not sure about road-tripping with you.”

“What?” I found You’ve Got Mail under Romantic Comedies and clicked it on. “Why? I’m a dreamboat road-tripper.”

“I’ve traveled with you before, remember?”

Of course I did. He knew it. I knew it. Even if it felt like a lifetime ago.

I said, “Which is why I’m dreading this. Me, though—I’m a fantastic traveler.”

“Come on, Glasses,” he chided, and I could almost see his teasing smirk. “I bet you have every stop timed out, snacks packed in little baggies, and playlists created specifically for where you are on the map.”

It was a little jarring, how well he knew me.

And ugh. I liked it.

He knew all of my neuroses and hang-ups, and not once did I feel that he was disappointed or turned off.

I liked when he teased me about them because it made me amused by them too. Comfortable with them. It felt good to laugh at myself instead of being embarrassed for once.

“The stops are merely suggestions,” I said, “you’re wrong about the snacks”—he wasn’t—“and I think it’s amazing to have a musical accompaniment for every leg of your journey.”

“You sound like an insane person. Also, since I’m driving, I control the music.”

I couldn’t even imagine what Charlie listened to. Bo Burnham, but rap. “That’s not fair.”

“Neither is the fact that I’m driving,” he said, trying to land his point.

“I can take a turn,” I replied, even though I didn’t want to.

“And let you threaten the sanctity of the bond between me and my vehicle?” he asked. “I don’t think so.”

I chuckled quietly, watching on the TV as Tom Hanks navigated New York in the fall, and asked, “What are you doing right now?”

“Watching Lawrence Welk and touching myself.”

“First of all, ewwwwww,” I said, laughing in spite of myself. “Second of all, Lawrence Welk?”

“Stroking my beard, you pervert—get your mind out of the gutter.” He sounded like he was smiling when he said, “And I lost the remote, if you must know, and my TV always goes back to public television when I turn it on.”

“So you’re seriously lying there, watching an ancient show where a bunch of people stand around singing, because you’re too lazy to look for the controller?”

“Pretty much.”

“So when you say ‘stroking your beard,’ you actually mean that you’re touching your pathetic little chin hairs, right?”

“Now, come on, Bay, no need to get nasty,” he said, and I liked the way his voice sounded when I could tell he was smiling. “Those hairs are concrete evidence of an impending beard.”

“Doubtful,” I teased.

“Evidence of my manliness,” he replied.

“Facial hair is not evidence of manliness,” I corrected, “not that what you have on your chin even qualifies as such.”

“I cannot believe you’re so hateful about my beard,” he said, feigning outrage but failing because I heard the laugh that slipped out.

“I cannot believe you’re doubling down on calling that a beard.”

He asked, “Do you want me to shave it before tomorrow?”

That surprised me. “It’s your face, and you can do whatever you want.”

“But your vote is…?” he asked, and I wondered if he actually cared what my opinion was.

“Shave it,” I said, picturing his face. “It’s not that the hair is offensive, per se, but you have a nice face and the beard hides that.”

Silence and then… “Oh my God, you’re so in love with my face.”

“Shut up and stop making me queasy.” I leaned back against my headboard and said, “Objectively, you have a very nice face that other people probably enjoy.”

I heard him laugh again. “But not you.”

“God, no.” I actually thought it was funny that I was friends with someone so objectively attractive but so whatever to me. “Sometimes I squeeze my eyes shut when we’re together, just so I don’t have to see your eyes and cheeks and that atrocious nose.”

He laughed again. “Okay—confession.”

“Ugh—I hate those.”

“I know,” he said. “The worst.”

“Go ahead, though,” I pressed.

“Okay. So. When I saw you at the movies last year, before you opened your mouth and reminded me of what a pain in the ass you are, I thought you were hot.”

I coughed out a laugh. “Did you seriously just say that you thought I was hot until you remembered my personality? Is that supposed to be a compliment?”

“Come on, Bay, you know what I mean.” His voice was a little crackly when he said, “I looked up, thought, Damn, she’s pretty, and then I was like, Oh, holy shit, it’s the whackjob from the plane but with normal hair.”

I did know what he meant. I’d felt the same way when I’d seen him. “Awwww—thank you, Charlie.”

“So…?”

Oh my God, he wanted me to return it. I admitted, “Okay. When we saw the promposal, I thought you looked kind of cute and kind of jacked. But only until you looked at me. Then I was like, Oh shit, oh shit, I need to run because I hate that guy.”

He chuckled, a deep, scratchy thing that made me want to make him laugh more often. “Oh, Glasses, you never hated me.”

I rolled onto my side and snuggled into my blanket. “Trust me, on that flight, I hated you with the white-hot intensity of a thousand suns.”

“For which you would’ve requested special sunscreen that was half-organic, half-regular.”

“Whatever.” I looked over at my suitcase and said, “So what are you doing when we get off the phone?”

“Laundry and packing,” he said. “Are you leaving your car at work while we’re gone?”

“No—Theo’s going to give Nekesa and me a ride in the morning.”

“Really,” he said, sounding smug.

“Shut it, they’re friends,” I defended, even as I knew they were getting too close.

“Sure they are,” he said. “I’m sure you saw the adorable winky faces she used when addressing Theo in the group chat.”

“I send winky faces to my mother,” I replied, even though the winky faces had totally been red flags to me. “Doesn’t mean anything.”

“Sure it doesn’t.”

“Are you going to be this annoying on the drive to the mountains?” I asked.

“Probably?”

I let out a long sigh. “I’m hanging up. G’night, Charlie.”

He sighed, louder and longer than mine. “G’night, Bailey.”