Betting on You

“You sure you don’t want to try?” Scott asked.

Scott and my mom were all smiles in their ski gear, and I told myself that her glowing face was all about this much-needed vacation, as opposed to a response to spending quality time with Scott.

“No, thanks,” I said, pointing toward the chalet café next to the lift. Charlie and I rode with them instead of going out on our own, aborting ghost town plans to make my mother happy, and we’d all had breakfast together at the Blue Moose before she and Scott changed into their gear. “I plan on reading by the fire with cocoa in my hands all day, only stopping to wave whenever you bunnies reload.”

“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?”Text © by N0ve/lDrama.Org.

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.

Maybe I needed to stop overthinking things with him, making rules and judgments about who he was, who I was, and who we were together. Because if I hadn’t rolled with Charlie’s shit happens explanation of last night, we wouldn’t have had this perfect morning.

Shit happens.

He looked at me then, screwing his eyebrows together in a What is that weird expression you’re wearing all about face as he walked over with our coffees in his hands, and I didn’t even try to hold back the smile that took over my entire face.

Because I had a new motto. A new way of thinking.

Until we crossed the border and left Colorado behind, I wasn’t going to overthink anything. About Charlie, about my parents, about Zack… about anything. Every action that was going to happen, every word that was going to be said—all of it would now be attributed to shit happening.

And that would just be that.

Shit happened in Colorado.

End of story.

Eventually we left the café and wandered through town, but when it got a little crowded with tourists, we decided to go for a hike. I was glad Charlie suggested just hitting the trail behind the condo without going inside first, because it seemed like a terrible idea to be home alone with him.

Not that I thought something would happen—we’d been cool all day—but I wasn’t sure my relaxed shit-happens attitude could survive that kind of inner turmoil.

The trail was stunningly beautiful—pine trees and gurgling streams and friendly chipmunks—and hiking through the steep terrain was just as fun as it’d been the day before. On the way back, though, my legs were screaming.

“Can we sit?” I asked, pointing to a clearing with a fallen log that begged to be sat upon. “I need a break.”

“Do you want a bear to eat you?” he asked, his teasing eyes hidden behind his sunglasses.

“I want to sit, Charlie,” I whined. “My legs are tired. I will risk a bear attack.”

“No.” He stopped walking, stepped closer, and tilted his head. “We’re almost to the condo, wherein you can plop down onto the sofa and never get up.”

“Don’t say ‘wherein,’ ” I said around an eye roll. “And how are you not tired?”

That made his lips turn up. “I’m incredibly fit, Glasses.”

“Spare me.”

“Do you want a piggyback ride?” he asked, full-on enjoying himself now. “I can carry you down the mountain like you’re a sleepy toddler who needs a nap, if your little legs can’t make it.”

“I should take you up on that just to punish you,” I replied, pointing a finger toward my log. “But right now, that log needs me.”

“It wouldn’t be a punishment. I’ll just consider it my workout for the day.” He turned and bent his legs. “Get on.”

Normally my brain would’ve melted down into a puddle of neurotic worries at that—What if I’m too heavy? What if he thinks I’m out of shape? Will I spontaneously combust from being attached to Charlie’s body?—but instead I thought, Shit happens.

You get tired, your friend is in great shape, he carries you down a mountain—shit happens.

I jumped onto his back and wrapped myself around him.

“Atta girl.” He laughed and immediately started walking. His pace was much quicker, meaning I’d been slowing him down, but I wasn’t going to concern myself with that thought because shit happens.

Also, was it weird that I liked how strong his grip was on my legs?

Yeah, probably, but shit happens.

“Thank you,” I said, noticing the way his neck smelled like a bar of soap, “for sparing my legs. I was surely about to die.”

“Surely you were,” he agreed sarcastically, then tilted his head. “Shhh.”

I didn’t speak but had no idea why I wasn’t speaking.

“Shit—do you hear that?” he whispered.

I said, “What?”

“Shh… listen.”

He stopped walking, and that was when we heard a cat meowing.

I looked at the trees in front of us, saying nothing, as Charlie looked above him and said, “Oh no, little guy.”

I followed his gaze upward, and holy crap—the tiniest little gray kitten was way up on a tall branch.

A very tall branch.

“Oh no,” I said as the furball kept mewling. I slid off Charlie’s back. “How’s he going to get down?”

I don’t know what I expected from Charlie, but without a word, he started climbing the tree. Thankfully, it had a knotted old trunk, but that cat was high, and Charlie was out of his mind.

“Charlie,” I said nervously. “You can’t climb all the way up there.”

“Sure I can,” he cooed, using a soothing baby talk voice so as not to scare the cat. “It’s just a little farther.”

I squinted into the sun as he kept climbing higher.

“I’m coming, little buddy, so you wait for me, okay?” he said, climbing higher still. “I’m going to get you down, get you a warm blanket and some food, okay?”

The kitten just kept meowing, and I just kept listening in disbelief as Charlie spoke to that cat in the sweetest voice. Something about his low croon settled into my belly, making me feel soothed, even as he idiotically climbed way too high in that super-tall tree.

“I know, buddy,” he said, and my heart turned to warm liquid as I watched Charlie’s entire focus settle on the well-being of that little cat. “It’s creepy as hell up here, right? But I got you, don’t worry.”

My heart was in my throat as I watched him climb higher and higher. “Be careful, Charlie.”

“I am,” he said, in the same soothing voice he was using on the cat. “Almost there.”

How did I ever think he was a jerk? Charlie Sampson had the softest, sweetest center, in spite of the fact that it was surrounded by crunchy cynicism, and I felt an odd sense of pride as I watched him move closer to the kitten.

Because how many people would just start climbing in this situation?

He got to the branch below the kitten and started talking even more. “I’m going to grab you in a sec, and I’m going to need you to not freak out too badly, okay? A scratch is fine, but please don’t leap down and hurt yourself.”

I took a couple steps over to stand directly underneath him, incredibly stressed about how high he’d climbed. Maybe if he fell on me, instead of the ground, he wouldn’t die.

He reached out, and—thank God—got the cat on the first try.

And instead of trying to get away, the little pile of fluff buried his head in Charlie’s collar as he petted him.

“Good job, buddy. Such a good boy, sitting still and waiting for me.” Charlie’s mouth was right by the kitty’s ear as he said, “You are such a good kitty.”

I watched him, dangling from the side of a tree while cuddling and nurturing that tiny little animal, and it was undeniable.

I had huge feelings for Charlie Sampson.

Shit.