Page 189 of Between the Lines

Two months later

She’s lying in my arms, on the large couch we’ve used so often in the past weeks. On the projector screen, the opening credits start to roll set to the notes of an upbeat pop song. There’s aerial footage of a large villa, surrounded by towering palm trees. Then quick flashes between different faces—all of them tan and attractive. A group of young people. British, American, Canadian. There’s an Aussie, too.

And then, the gold text.The Gamble.

Charlotte takes a deep breath.

“You okay?” I ask.

She’s got a firm grip on the remote. “Yeah. I think. But I’m not sure how far in I’ll make it.”

“We can stop anytime,” I say.

It had been her idea, a week ago. She’d said it so suddenly, over lunch at the Malibu house, on a beautifully sunny Saturday.I think it’s time I rewatch my season.

It shocked me. But then, she’d explained why she thought it was necessary. Both for her book, but also to see… if it was as badas she remembered.It’s grown in my head,she told me.I think it’s a dragon I need to slay.

So here we are. I know I’ll get upset by what I’ll see. I told her that, warned her about it. She said I didn’t have to watch.

It’ll be… Blake will be there. It will include?—

I cut her off. I know very well what it’ll include, and I don’t feel jealousy when faced with that prick. It’s a decade in the past.

What I do feel?

Pure and sheer anger.

But I’m not about to let her go through this on her own.

“There I am,” she says softly.

On-screen, younger Charlotte stands at the edge of a pool. She’s in a short blue sundress, showing off her tanned arms, and her hair is bleached to a wheat-blonde. It suits her, but nothing is as pretty as her natural color.

She’s holding a colorful cocktail and watching a group of guys across the water. They’re by some kind of shuffleboard, and the show is about to kick off with one of the inane challenges inherent toThe Gamble.

“Oh. I’m kinda cute, actually,” she says. There’s true surprise in her voice.

I kiss her forehead. “Of course you are.”

“I remember being so nervous about what to wear. My mom and I went to the mall before to get a ton of dresses.” She digs her teeth into her lip, and we watch another few minutes in silence.

“Oh, wow,” she says after a confession by a red-headed girl who said she really liked Charlotte. “I had forgotten about Emily. She was… out of all the girls, she was actually pretty nice.”

“What happened to her after the show?”

“I don’t know.” Charlotte’s voice is thoughtful. “I kinda lumped her together with the rest.”

We watch several episodes in one evening.

Charlotte jumps ahead sometimes. Other times she pauses and sits up, as if to take a more thorough look at the scene. When Blake calls her Sugar Puff the first time, I want to bury my fist into a pillow.

But beside me, Charlotte laughs.

“What?” I ask.

She shakes her head, her eyes on the screen. “I don’t feel anything.”

“Nothing?”

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