Betting on You

“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.Property of Nô)(velDr(a)ma.Org.

“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.”

“Want to order a pizza?”

We ordered a large pepperoni pizza and ate it straight from the box as we binge-watched Ted Lasso. It was total comfort TV and actually made us feel better. So much better, in fact, that when Dana texted both of us, asking if we would join her and Eli that night for their birthday dinner at Applebee’s (those two actually shared a birthday—so adorable, right?), we were all in.

After confirming that Charlie wouldn’t be there, of course.

We took our time getting ready, curling each other’s hair and paying far too much attention to details like winged eyeliner and perfect fingernail polish. I borrowed her red-and-black plaid skirt and fluffy sweater, and she wore a bright orange dress.

By the time we walked into the restaurant, we felt pretty damn good.

Until we saw them.

Dana and Eli were laughing, sitting across from each other, along with a few other people I didn’t know. They all looked like they were having a blast, with a few presents piled on the table’s center.

But also at the table, in work clothes, like they’d just left Planet Funnn, were Charlie and Theo.

I instantly felt like I couldn’t breathe, and I hated him for making me feel that way. I wanted to not care, but the buzzing in my ears and the heat in my cheeks told another story.

“Son of a bitch,” Nekesa said to me out of the side of her mouth. “Is the universe fucking kidding with this?”

I barely heard her, because my traitorous eyes were drinking in the sight of Charlie. God, I just missed him so much—and it had barely been a week. As much as I’d said that it was fine, the truth was that he’d left a gaping hole in my life.

Not the kissing Charlie—I didn’t know that guy all that well.

But my coworker/friend Charlie, the one I’d texted thirty times a day and talked to on the phone more days than not, had left me with an aching void.

Had it really only been a week?

“Let’s do this,” Nekesa said, giving me her I’m a badass look. “Let’s just sit our asses down and try to have fun.”

“That’s a tall order,” I muttered.

“Just try,” she said, and then she walked around the table and took the empty chair between Dana and Theo. The only other vacant chair was the one next to Charlie, and I wasn’t sure I was mentally strong enough to force my legs to move in that direction.

Dammit.

It was like he heard my mental curse, and his eyes landed on me. But instead of doing the right thing and looking away—or at least looking awkward—he gave me a smirky smile.

Seriously?

I channeled my inner Nekesa and went over to the vacant seat, even though I would’ve rather sat in the white-hot flames of hell. I immediately turned my attention to Dana and Eli.

“Happy birthday, you guys,” I said, pushing my lips up into a perky smile. “Did I miss the karaoke?”

I could hear Theo saying something to Nekesa about his car being in the shop and Charlie giving him a ride, which explained why he was there when he didn’t even know the birthday couple.

“You wish,” Dana said, looking so incredibly happy that I was glad Eli hadn’t been interested in me. “Starts in five.”

“Lovely,” I muttered.

I looked across the table, and Nekesa was talking intensely to Theo. I was trying to lean a little closer, not being obvious, when I heard:

“You’re going to fall out of your chair if you lean any harder, Glasses.”

I glanced at Charlie, and he was giving me the amused grin he’d given me a thousand times before. Which pissed me off. How dare he act like everything was normal? I gave him a very fake smile—the baring of teeth—and turned away from him in my chair.

I was about to say something to Dana when Charlie said, “Are you going to sing?”

I looked at him over my shoulder. “What?”

He gave a nod toward the bar. “When karaoke starts. You singing, Mitchell?”

“Doubt it,” I said, wishing he’d just leave me alone.

I heard Eli say something to him, and then Nekesa, Charlie, and Eli exploded into a conversation. So I just sat there, wedged in between two conversations like a loner loser. I desperately wanted to go home, but I was also so happy to see Nekesa not crying that I was going to shut up and deal for a while in the name of her happiness.

Y’know, since I had a hand in making her sad.

Karaoke began, and I was finally able to relax. Mainly because Charlie had stopped talking, and everyone else had started. Dana and Eli sang “Señorita” by Camila Cabello and Shawn Mendes, and they were actually good.

And even more adorable than before.

They were couple perfection. And it made me sick.

Nekesa went up and did “Party in the USA,” which was awful, but everyone sang along so it was fun. I was in the middle of discussing Miley Cyrus with Eli when I heard the notes of the next song start.

No.

I closed my eyes and refused to look toward the karaoke stage.

“Bailey,” Charlie said into the microphone, “Bailey Mitchell. Come sing with me.”

“Do What You Gotta Do” began playing, and Charlie started singing to the Disney song. Badly.

Hearing him singing that song made me grit my teeth and curl my fingers into fists. It reminded me of what we’d been, of how great we’d been together, and how easily he’d just scrapped it.

And now, because of the convenience of location, he thought we could just pick it back up like nothing had happened?

I got up and headed for the door—I needed to get the hell out of there. I needed air, I needed space, I needed no Charlie. I could feel his eyes on me as I walked, and just as I pushed the doors to exit the building, I heard him stop singing and say into the microphone, “Bailey!”

Nope.

Not stopping, not going back.

I walked around to the side of the building, out of sight, and rubbed the back of my neck with both hands.

“Bailey?” Charlie came running around the corner, and I felt something spark in my chest as he looked confused, like he was somehow shocked that I hadn’t wanted to play with him.

“For God’s sake, Charlie, can you just leave me alone?” I dropped my arms to my sides and sighed. “You’re good at that, so it should be easy.”

He made a noise in his throat and his face looked pained. Guilty, like he knew he’d been an asshole. “I didn’t leave you alone; I just—”

“You literally left me alone at your mother’s apartment, and you’ve ghosted me ever since,” I said in a high-pitched voice that I didn’t like. “Don’t get me wrong—I don’t give a shit—but you can’t act like you’re confused as to why I’m not your friend anymore.”

“I knew this would happen,” he muttered quietly, almost under his breath.

“Knew what would happen?” I barked.

“This,” he said, looking agitated and sounding frustrated. “I knew this would happen. I told you this would happen.”

“Are you talking about your idiotic theory?” I asked, my voice growing louder. “This didn’t happen because we were friends. This happened because as soon as we shared a real moment, you freaked out and disappeared.”

“I didn’t freak out,” he said, his voice a little louder as well, “but I could tell that you were going to make something huge out of a kiss, and I didn’t want it to fuck up our friendship.”

I felt like he’d slapped me with his I could tell that you were going to make something huge comment, as if he were the adult in the scenario who knew silly little Bailey was going to fall in love. As if I were a lovesick idiot.

“Uh, for starters, it wasn’t just a kiss, Charlie, and you know it,” I said, blinking fast as I tried keeping my thoughts straight. “But if anything fucked up our friendship, it was you ignoring me. Friends don’t do that.”

“Friends, friends,” he said, his words almost a groan. “It’s such bullshit.”

“No, your ideas are bullshit.”

“Really?” he asked, stepping a little closer. “Because it occurs to me that we’ve yet to discuss the fact that I actually won our bet. Because it wasn’t bullshit at all. I told you a long time ago that Theo and Nekesa were going to hook up, and I was right. You bet on friendship, and you lost because it’s impossible.”

“Oh my god, Theo told you he kissed her?”

So that guy was a dick, too.

“What the hell?”

Nekesa appeared from behind Charlie, where she’d apparently been hidden by his bigger, taller body.

Shit, shit, shit.

“What does that mean?” Nekesa asked, taking a step toward me. “You didn’t make a literal bet that we’d hook up, did you?”

“No!” I nearly shouted, panicking as she glared at me. I cleared my throat as my heart started pounding in my chest, and I said, “It’s not like that.” Right? How could I explain. “I mean, there was this… discussion that Charlie and I had.” Discussion? Jesus, Bailey!

Her mouth dropped open, and her eyes moved between Charlie and me. “What kind of garbage person makes a bet about their best friend?”

“It wasn’t like that,” I said, desperate to convince her. “Charlie just thought—”

“Charlie sure likes betting,” Theo said.

I hadn’t even noticed him standing beside Nekesa, but I could hardly keep up with the conversation, much less the attendance. He looked pissed as he glared at Charlie, which irritated me because this was none of his business. I mean yes, he’d been part of the bet, but I didn’t care how he felt about that.

Theo crossed his arms and said, “That wasn’t his only wager.”

I rolled my eyes—couldn’t help it. “No offense, Theo, but I—”

“Fuck off, Theo,” Charlie said, looking ready to fight.

“Oh, really?” Theo looked like a smug asshole because he was smirking in the midst of all the turmoil. “I should fuck off?”

“Spare us the machismo,” I muttered, out of patience.

“Machismo?” Theo barked, his smirk turning into a dickish grin. “He made a bet about you, Bailey.”

“What?” I didn’t get it.

“Theo,” Charlie said through gritted teeth. “Shut up.”

He looked angry, his face flushed and his eyes burning as he glared at Theo, which made me even angrier. I said, “No, you shut up, Charlie.”

And then I said—

“What are you talking about, Theo?”

Theo was still looking pleased with himself, like he was the puppeteer and was having the time of his life pulling all the strings.

“Charlie made a bet about you.” Theo said the words loudly, clearly, and while giving me direct eye contact. “With me.”

“What?” I pushed my hair out of my face and looked from Theo to Charlie. “What does that mean?”

“Yeah,” Nekesa said, looking at Theo with a question in her eyes as Eli and Dana showed up behind her. “What are you talking about?”

Charlie flexed his jaw, watching me.

“Charlie and I made a bet a few months ago,” Theo said, speaking to Nekesa now. “It was before any of us were friends. Charlie made a wager that he could get Bailey.”

I squinted and said, “Get?”

My face got hot with embarrassment as Charlie’s guilty gaze went to a spot just beyond my shoulder. His voice was quiet when he said, “It was just talk, Bay. It didn’t mean—”

“Oh my God,” I said, feeling dizzy—no, numb—as I realized the truth. Colorado, the pullout sofa, the blanket fort—that was all him getting me to win a bet. No wonder he was gone before I woke up; he’d already won.

Unless—my stomach churned as it occurred to me that everything we’d been through, said to each other, what we shared, was all to “get” me. And what the fuck did that mean?

I felt like such a fool. Had we ever been friends, or had our entire “relationship” been him trying to “get” me to win a bet?

“Bay,” he replied, his expression unreadable aside from the red splotches on each of his cheeks. “You have to know—”

“Shut up.” I wasn’t a violent person, but rage bubbled inside me and I wanted to hit something.

Someone.

Because he was only Mr. Nothing. All those times I’d looked at him and thought about how Charlie wasn’t at all what I’d initially judged him to be? That was just my own gullibility, my own pathetic wishful thinking.

He was Charlie from the airport, and I was a fool.

“Dana,” Nekesa said, jerking my attention from Charlie to her. She lifted her chin and said, “Can I get a ride home? I think it’s best if Bailey and I don’t share a car right now.”

I hated the expression on her face at that moment, because she looked as disappointed in me as I was in Charlie.

“Wait,” I said, holding out a hand in desperation as I stepped in front of her. “Please let me explain—”

“You don’t get to talk—are you kidding me with that?” Her nostrils flared and she shook her head in disgust. “I’m sorry, Bay, but I can’t… I just. Why,” was all she whispered before walking away. I watched Dana follow her, and I felt like a monster.

“Bailey.”

I looked back at Charlie, and his face was serious in a way I’d never seen. He almost looked scared, which was impossible because he’d have to be able to feel something to be scared.

“What, Charlie?” I bit out, trying to keep my emotions contained when all I wanted to do was cry. “What?”

“The bet was nothing,” he said, stepping closer to me. “I know it was wrong, but I made it before we became friends—”

“Coworkers,” I corrected.

“Friends,” he insisted.

“Really?” I hated him at that moment for having that face. He was staring at me, his dark eyes intense, and it wasn’t fair that his face still felt like a comfortable thing to me. So familiar that I knew his left eyebrow was marginally thicker than the right and he had the tiniest mole just to the left of his mouth. His face looked like the face of my best friend, a friend I could trust with anything. “Well, if that’s the case, you were a really shitty friend.”

“Don’t say ‘were.’ ” He swallowed and clenched his jaw before he said, “We’re not past tense, Bay.”

“You made us past tense,” I said, my voice cracking, “not me.”

“Bailey—”

“I have to go.”

I turned away from him, my heart pounding and my face burning as I went to my car. I was nearly running, desperate to keep him from saying another word. I couldn’t handle hearing anything more. I didn’t want to forgive him—couldn’t forgive him—because he wasn’t friend material.

Not for me, at least.

He’d told me that on the flight from Fairbanks, but I just hadn’t listened.