Page 12 of What are the Chances

“You look tired,” I blurt out. The second the words the pass my lips, I regret saying them.

Turning toward me, Charlotte narrows her eyes. “Thanks, Mason,” she deadpans. “In other words, you think I look like shit.”

I tilt my head and squeeze my eyes shut. Reopening them, I stare back at her. “I’m sorry, that’s not what I meant.”

“Whatever.” She waves me off. “It’s not like I really care what you think of me, anyway. Is there somewhere I can lie down for a little while? I think the time change is messing with my sleep schedule.”

My throat seizes, and I lose all ability to speak. Something about her stab at me dug a little deeper than all the others. Is that really how she feels about me? What she thinks of me?

She still looks as beautiful as she did the first time I met her, not even fifteen hours ago. Her lipstick has faded from a bright crimson to a pale red and strands have broken free from her loose braid, but she still shines against the golden sun.

Sam emerges from the kitchen, walking over to us.

“Of course, Char.” He doesn’t bother looking at me as he reaches out, grabbing her elbow. “You can take a nap in my old room. I’ll give you a tour of the rest of the house later, after you’ve gotten some rest.”

“Thanks, Sam.” She sends him a closed-mouth smile of appreciation as she follows him toward the stairs near the entryway.

Five minutes later, I’m sitting on the couch in my parents’ living room. I haven’t turned on the TV or even glanced at my phone, sitting in utter silence when I hear Sam’s footsteps coming down the hallway. Walking into the kitchen, he opens the pantry, grabbing a cup of instant ramen. I watch him as he walks over to the sink, filling the paper cup with water before he pops it into the microwave. The microwave hums in the background when Sam finally decides to talk to me.

“I don’t know what your deal is with Charlotte, but the way you were treating her in the car was…” He stops, thinking of his next words. Sighing, he leans over the counter and looks up. “You were being a complete and utter arse to her.”

“I was not being an arse,” I scoff. “She’s just as much to blame as I am.”

Sam holds his hands up. “All I’m saying is, I can tell you aren’t simply strangers.”

The microwave dings, and Sam turns around, removing his steaming cup of noodles. He sets it down on the counter and stirs in his seasoning packet.

“I don’t even know where to start.” I pinch the bridge of my nose and sigh. “I guess to make a long story short...” I take a deep breath and throw my hands in the air, starting from the moment Charlotte and I met to the moment she started groping me. I slide my hand down my face and groan.

“Everything suddenly became awkward. It became even more awkward when we stepped out of the airport to find you were there to pick us both up. What are the fucking chances?”

“Fuck,” Sam says.

I swallow, not realizing I had zoned out, replaying every single detail to Sam. Somehow, I was unable to break my eyes away from the vase of roses sitting in the middle of the coffee table. I look up to find Sam standing in the same spot he was before my rambling. Only now, he’s leaning on the counter, his arms flexed, palms pressed flat on the laminate.

“I know,” I groan. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”

“No, Mason. Fuck.” His eyes widen, and he waves his hands around dramatically. “When you say you’re going to shorten a long story, you shorten the long story.”

“What?” I furrow my eyebrows in confusion. “Did you even hear any part of that story?”

“Of course, I did.”

Rolling his eyes, he picks up his now cooled cup of noodles and walks around the counter, joining me in the living room. Instead of sitting down on the couch, he leans against the wall, crossing his legs at the ankles.

“But you definitely didn’t need to go into that much detail. Although, regardless what you say about what happened between you two, you’re still the arse in this situation.”

Frustrated, I hold out my hand, pointing to the stairs. “But she’s not completely innocent in this situation. Now that I know she’s Kyle’s girlfriend, what am I supposed to do?”

“What do you mean?” he asks. “Do you think this somehow counts as cheating?” I can sense the anger laced in his voice. The protective Sam from earlier has returned.

“No,” I shake my head. I think back to when I accused Charlotte of cheating. I was lying. I couldn’t allow Charlotte to know how disappointed I was to hear she was dating someone. Ashamed, I had come up with the most hurtful thing I could think to say.

Now that I know Kyle is her boyfriend, I’m not only ashamed but confused as hell why Charlotte would be with such a man. Sam has always been closer to Kyle than I ever was. He first met him at one of the University’s parties. By the time I had met him, Sam had already spent enough time with him to call him his best friend.

Yet even as I grew to know Kyle, we considered ourselves more acquaintances than friends. There’s always been something I’ve never understood about him. On the surface he appeared to be a good guy—always managed to get good grades, more friends than I bothered to count, and always had a line of women waiting for him to give them the time of day.

But the way he treated women at University bothered me. He would date one, then sleep with another, always acting like he didn’t mean to hurt the other, or it was a misunderstanding. It was behavior Sam turned a blind eye to and enough of a deterrent for me to wash my hands of hanging around the guy.

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