Betting on You

The next couple weeks went by in a blur of awfulness.

The apartment became a shell of its former self, with moving boxes strewn all over the place as my mom made frequent trips to Scott’s with things like lamps, candles, and photographs. It no longer looked homey, no longer felt like any sort of refuge; it was just a place to sleep until we moved.

But worse than that was the fact that I was suddenly alone.

Nekesa, the friend who’d always been there for me, was gone. No texts, no calls, no hanging out; I was my only company. I went to school alone, shuffled through my classes, then drove myself home.

I don’t know that I’d ever felt that lonely in my entire life.

I was sure my online friends would be supportive if I messaged them, but everything felt like too much drama to spill to friends lucky enough to be thousands of miles away.

And it exhausted me just thinking about it, so texting about it would be even worse.

I was considering quitting my job, because even that wasn’t the same anymore. I’d transferred to Equipment Check-Out the morning after Applebee’s, because I was too much of a coward to face Nekesa and I didn’t want to ever see Theo or Charlie again, so now I just spent mind-numbingly boring hours on end handing out things like roller skates and snowboards to kids who didn’t look like they washed their hands.

The only good thing was that my dad had started reaching out more. My mother must’ve really given him an earful, because he was back to texting me all the time.

Dad: Guess where I ate last night?

Me: McKennas?

Dad: Lucky guess. I had the Bailey special, btw.

His words made me think cow tongue on toast, but I forced myself to concentrate on my father’s reminiscing instead of Charlie’s nonsense. Spaghetti with a side of bologna?

It was what I always ordered at McKennas when I was five years old, and to this day, my dad ordered it every time he visited the restaurant.

It was weird. I was starting to feel less homesick when he talked about my former city, which I supposed was some sort of progress. It was more like seeing a curling old photograph, a soft reminder of another time in my life. I could smile and picture it, but I didn’t feel that desperate desire to fly back immediately and resume my previous life anymore.

That probably meant I was finally accepting that that part of my life was over.

Closure and all that.

Charlie texted me every day, and every day I ignored him.

He’d started with apologies. He peppered me with a slew of apologetic texts and explanations. When I didn’t respond, he switched to sharing funny memes, things we would’ve laughed about together before everything went wrong.

Now he’d moved on to random I miss you texts, which always made me want to cry. He wasn’t a romantic guy, so when he texted things like Look what I found on my phone today—I miss you and included a screenshot of me and his cat—and him—when we’d FaceTimed, it felt like more than a picture.

It felt like he’d felt it too, the magic, and that hurt so much that I started deleting his messages without even reading them first.

Speaking of the cat, my mother delivered Puffball to Charlie’s house like we were people divorcing and exchanging custody of our ward. Puffball was a fucking custody kid, for the love of God, and that full-circle unhappy ending was too depressing for words.

That Thursday night, when I was dying of boredom with an hour left in my shift, I heard someone approaching the Interstellar Equipment Station—aka my little hut.

Please don’t ask for anything.

All I wanted was to mindlessly scroll on my phone and ignore the world.

“Hey.”

I sighed and looked up, only to find Nekesa waiting.

My stomach dropped and my heart started racing; God, I was nervous to see her.

I got off my stool and went to the window, not knowing what to say or how to look at her. Smiling felt wrong, but so did not smiling. So I just said, “Hey.”

Her eyes went up to my hair. “A bun? Really?”

I nodded in agreement with what I knew she was thinking. She had strong opinions on the bun. “Yes, I’ve given up.”

“Listen, I need to check out a boogie board for a guest who’s coming in late. Can I get it charged to room 769?” she asked, ignoring my bun rebuttal entirely. “Please.”

“Sure.” I tabbed through the necessary fields on the computer until I got to the right screen. My face was on fire and my hands were shaking, and I wasn’t sure if it was from guilt or fear that we’d never be friends again.

I could tell by the expression on her face that she was going to take the board and go, and I knew I needed to say something.

It was now or never.

But what?

What could I possibly say to make her forgive me?

“I’m so sorry.” I glanced up from the computer screen and said the first thing I could think of. “I’m a jerk and the worst and totally deserving of your scorn, but I am begging you to forgive me.”

Her eyebrows went down.

“I know, I know, I know,” I said quickly, talking as fast as I could, trying to think of more ways to get through to her while she was standing in front of me. “Even my apology is annoying, right? But I just want you to know that I never hoped or thought you’d cheat on Aaron—”

“Bailey—”

“And I was betting on you, not that that made it any better—”

“Can you shut up?” she asked, her eyebrows going even lower. “This groveling is pathetic.”

My words froze in my mouth, because I couldn’t believe she’d told me to shut up.

But then her mouth turned into a little half smile that made me want to cry happy tears. Actually my eyes did fill with tears, because I missed her so much. She said, “What you did was super assy. Like, super assy.”

I nodded and sniffled. “I know.”

“But Charlie told me—after he and Theo fought, by the way—that you took the bet to show him how wrong he was. And he told me you felt shitty about it the whole time.”

“I totally did,” I agreed, adding, “Not that that excuses it.”

God, what had I been thinking? It was surreal to me, that I’d ever gone along with it.

Freaking Charlie.

“Are you okay?” I asked, realizing that she’d been coping with her own loneliness. “About Aaron, I mean.”

She puckered her lips and lifted her shoulder. “I guess, yeah, but I miss him.”

I swallowed and nodded.

“A lot,” she added, looking so sad that I wanted to hug her, even though I knew she wouldn’t let me.

“Have you guys talked at all?” I asked, wishing I could fix it for her.

She shook her head. “I’m too scared to call him.”

Yeah, I definitely understand that. “You should, though.”

She just sighed, like she had no idea what to do, then said, “So can I catch a ride home with you after work? My battery’s dead, and I don’t want to wait for my dad to pick me up.”

“Are you kidding?” I said, trying—and failing—not to smile. “Of course you can!”

“Settle your ass down.” She laughed.

“Sorry.” Relief swept over me like a wave.

The rest of my shift was better, now that I knew things might be okay with us. And when I gave her a ride home at the end of the night and she just launched into a story right away, as if nothing had happened with us, I was ecstatic. It wasn’t until we got closer to her house that she turned toward me in the passenger seat and said, “So have you talked to Charlie at all?”

Just hearing his name made my chest ache, and I shook my head and said, “He texts me, but I haven’t responded. I’m just going to ignore him until he disappears.”

“Are you sure that’s what you want?” she asked, and I was kind of surprised. After everything that’d happened, I would’ve thought she’d want him out of our lives forever.

“For sure,” I said, turning into her neighborhood. The sooner Charlie went away, the sooner I could stop wasting hours thinking about him.

Of course, that wasn’t really working for me so far.

“So do you want to hear about the fight?” she asked, turning in her seat and tucking her legs underneath her.

“Did they actually fight?” I glanced over at her, unable to imagine such an event since neither of them seemed like brawlers. “For real? Like a physical fight?”

I glanced over, and she was nodding emphatically. “The first time we all worked together after Applebee’s, those boys got heated. Charlie was quiet the entire shift—didn’t say a single word to either of us—and when Theo said something stupid like Smile, sunshine, Charlie went off.”

“Went off?” I looked over at her and asked, “What’d he say?”

As much as I detested him, I didn’t like the idea of him angry.

Ugh. What was wrong with me?

“Eyes on the road,” she said, and I obeyed. She continued with “I think he said, like, Can you not talk to me, you stupid fucking asshole, which made Theo get all puffed up and go What the fuck is your problem, man,” she said, doing voices as she spoke.

“No way,” I said, in utter disbelief. Charlie was a smart-ass, a chill-vibes kind of dick. He wasn’t a yelling-in-your-face type of dude.

Or was he? Did I even know what really went on inside of Charlie Sampson?RêAd lat𝙚St chapters at Novel(D)ra/ma.Org Only

I sighed because in spite of everything, I still felt like I did know him.

“Yep,” she said, and I could see her nodding out of the corner of my eye. “Then Charlie was like Why did you have to open your huge fucking dipshit mouth to Bailey, you gossipy little bitch, which made Theo push him. Then Charlie pushed him harder and shoved him against the wall.”

That made me slam on the brake as we came to a red light, staring at Nekesa as shock and worry and stress hit me, all at once. My thoughts were riotous as I tried to make sense of everything.

“This can’t be true,” I said, putting my foot back on the gas and attempting to drive responsibly while dying of shock.

And also stressing about Charlie’s anxiety, wondering how many TUMS he was consuming on a daily basis, which pissed me off because he didn’t deserve my worry.

But dammit, I just missed him.

I missed my friend Charlie, even if he’d been a total lie. I missed the teasing and the way he knew what I was thinking all the time and how comfortable it felt to just be around him.

I’d never forgive him for taking away that comfort.

“I broke it up,” she said, “because I’m a peacemaker, but not before Theo said something like You did this to yourself, wagering on everyone like a fucking high-roller idiot.”

I shook my head. “Theo wasn’t wrong about that.”

“Yeah, but then Charlie almost twisted his nipple off.”

That… was not what I expected, and I glanced at her out of the corner of my eye.

“Theo screamed—like full-on screamed high-pitched bloody murder in pain—as Charlie just twisted as hard as he could, and Charlie goes, You’re lucky I’m not violent or that would’ve been a punch.”

When I pulled up in front of her house, I put my car in park and just sat there.

Nothing in the world made sense anymore.

She said, “Unbelievable, right?”

I nodded and asked, “So did they make up? Theo and Charlie?”

“Come in and stay over,” Nekesa said as she opened the door. “And no, they did not. Charlie quit.”

He quit? Charlie quit his job?

“Text your mom, and then I’ll tell you all about it.”

After I got my mom’s okay to sleep over, we went inside, and Nekesa told me about how Charlie gave his notice and they hadn’t heard from him since. It was ridiculous that I was concerned about him after what he’d done, but I was.

He didn’t need any more stress.

We went up to her room and watched old episodes of Project Runway, and I felt content for the first time in what seemed like too long. Nekesa was my second home, in a way—not her house but her—and things felt a lot closer to right with her beside me.

The third episode was starting when my phone buzzed.

It was Charlie.

I still want to take you to fall formal. Please go with me so I can fix this. I miss you.

“Oh my God—he is seriously killing me,” I moaned, hating that I could still hear every one of his texts perfectly narrated in his voice. Missing him was bad enough, but when he sent me messages that were exactly what I would’ve wished for before we fell apart, my heart ached.

Nekesa read the text and made a noise, always the defender. She picked up her phone and sent Charlie a message:

It’s Nekesa. Will you please leave Bay alone? You can’t fix this. You were right all along—you and Bailey CAN’T be friends. Also—she’s going to fall formal with ME. Bye.

I knew I should be laughing or cheering, because he deserved that and he needed to disappear from my life.

But there was still a part of me that didn’t want him to go.

Something inside of me wanted to stop her from sending that message, because what if it worked?

“Am I?” I asked about her fall formal comment, trying not to be sad over her words about Charlie and me never being friends.

“You already have a dress, right?” she said, setting down her phone and grabbing the bag of pretzels.

“Yeah.” I’d bought one on post-prom clearance last year.

“So why not?” Nekesa popped a pretzel into her mouth and said, “Who needs boys anyway?”