Page 3 of The Charm of You

“It’s my own fault for not paying attention.”

“Isn’t that rule number one when operating machinery?” she asks, and the corner of my lip twitches.

The announcer’s voice echoes from above and informs us we have ten minutes until kickoff. Which means she should get into position with the rest of her squad.

I turn to leave, but she stops me again, with a grip of my shoulder this time. “Could you… stay with me for a minute?”

Her question drips with vulnerability, and it cracks my fucking heart.

I turn back to fully face her and plant my feet in place, my head spinning.

We don’t speak for what feels like an eternity, although it’s probably just a few seconds, until her watery voice sounds again. “My father used to come to every football game. This is my first season without him.”

Understanding registers, and suddenly, she’s not just the Caroline Summers I usually see, bouncing on clouds with a smile on her face. She’s not the girl most of us put on a pedestal.

Right now, she’s just a girl with a broken heart, and a mix of sadness and sympathy washes over me.

Her father was the sheriff in town before he passed away last year in a car accident. I didn’t know him personally, as our paths never crossed, but I’ve heard all good and noble things about him from others in town.

And Caroline misses him—a feeling I know all too well.

“This is my final season altogether.” She blows out a breath, and I continue standing here with a hot dog in my hand and my damn throat tightening. “Some of the girls were talking about their parents attending senior night in a couple of months, and it just hit me hard that Daddy won’t be there. He won’t be here for anything else—not fishing, Christmas, or graduation. He’s not going to help me move into my dorm in New York next fall. Nothing.” She releases a long, heavy exhale that wraps tightly around me.

I work my jaw back and forth as sweat builds on my lower back. What should I say? Should I say anything, or do I hand her the hot dog and find her a tissue?

As much as I know about this sort of thing, I’m fucking lousy at offering helpful advice on it, because the truth is, it doesn’t get easier. It doesn’t hurt less, especially since there are constant reminders in every direction.

I abandoned those reminders in my hometown when we moved here to a place my father had never been to, but for Caroline, I imagine it’s different. Her scars are fresh, and her memories are plastered around this town like they’re on billboards.

“Caroline, you’re—” I’m cut off when a commotion sounds from behind me.

Two cheerleaders appear and burst in sync, “There you are!”

“We’ve been looking everywhere for you, Caroline,” one says.

The other loops her arm through Caroline’s and laughs. “What’re you doing down here? Did you give Wake his good luck kiss before the game? Our quarterback could use all the luck tonight.”

“No,” Caroline answers with a scoff, seemingly more put together than a few seconds ago. “I broke up with him for real last week. He’s still going to be my escort for the homecoming royalty stuff, but we’re so not together.”

“That’s what you always say.” One of the girls tsks, and they lead Caroline away, launching her back into her own social stratosphere.

They practically pass right through me, as if I’m invisible.

I lift my gaze to meet Caroline’s over her shoulder, and as she brushes past me, she says, “Thank you.”

“Oh.” One girl pauses. “Didn’t see you there.”

The other cheerleader takes one look at my navy shirt and makes a gesture with her finger over her throat. “You’re going down tonight!”

I furrow my brow, and Caroline’s lips part. “You’re a Dolphin? That’s why I don’t recognize you. Maybe I’ll catch you after the game, unless you’re too sad we beat you.”

Her grin is playful and innocent, but my stomach turns into a blender.

The other two “boo” the Dolphins, and the three of them sashay away.

Caroline Summers doesn’t realize we’re both seniors at the same school. That we’ve been going to the same school for the last three years, or that I sat behind her in class for one of those years.

She doesn’t know me at all.

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