Page 55 of What are the Chances

Mason

“YOU KNEW?”

I still have Sam’s phone resting in my hand, staring at the photo of Kyle, the picture haunting me, mocking me. But this time, with the picture staring me in the face, I know it’s coming to collect what’s due. It’s time for me to face the truth.

I hear Char’s voice, but I can’t bring myself to look away from my hand. I’m afraid to look at her. I can already picture it, the betrayal she feels filling her hazel eyes. I wanted to tell her, I was so close, but it’s as if the universe is punishing me, shoving my lack of honesty in my face.

“Mason.”

Charlotte’s voice hardens and finally, I’m able to look up, finding her standing on the other side of the room. Every thought I had of what she might look like at this moment is validated--tears pool in her eyes, her hands balling into fists at her sides.

“You knew about the picture?”

My shoulders sag, and I take a step forward.

“Yes,” I breathe out. “But...” I pause, realizing how ridiculous my excuse will sound when said out loud. “But Sam told me not to tell you.” I steel my eyes on Sam, narrowing them in anger. “What the fuck man?” I ask him. “Why would you think I told her about the picture? You knew I didn’t tell her.”

“Sorry, man.” Sam holds his hands up in surrender, his mouth falling open. “You walked in here right after Char just told me she was in love with you, and I freaked. I didn’t know what to say.”

My stomach dips, and my chest caves in, hearing Char’s name and the word love spoken in the same sentence. I turn to Charlotte who’s looking at Sam like she wants to chop his head off, her cheeks blushed a bright red.

At the same time I say, “What?” I hear Charlotte yell, “Sam! What the hell?”

“I’m sorry!” Sam yells back, frantically looking between us. “I’m getting all confused. This is why I don’t get in the middle of things like this.” He presses his hands to the side of his head, looking like he’s in front of some kind of math test, figuring out how to solve some complicated equation. “I’m just trying to wrap my head around it. I mean, my brother and my friend are in love...”

“Oh my God, Sam,” Charlotte says. “Please, just stop talking.” Her head is down, and she’s covering her eyes with her hand.

I don’t notice how heavy my breathing has become until I’m staring at Charlotte. Blood shoots through my veins. A feeling I’ve nearly forgotten has risen to the surface, causing my heart to nearly explode out of my chest.

Charlotte’s still looking down at the floor. I take a step toward her. We’re still at least six feet apart, but I can feel her from here. She might as well have her arms wrapped around me.

“Wait,” I choke out on a breath. My lungs struggle to keep up with the thoughts processing through my mind and the words making their way through my throat.

“You’re in love with me?”

I wait for Charlotte’s answer, noticing how the steady rise and fall of her chest matches mine. Instead of an answer, I’m met with silence. She finally looks up, and for the first time since I met her, her eyes are clouded with anger.

Sensing her anger, Sam does what he does best. He tries to avoid the shit storm he started. Clapping his hands in front of him, the loud smack echoing off the walls, he looks at both of us.

“Well, seems like you both need to talk. Apparently, I’m too exhausted to make any sense, so I’m going to head upstairs and take a nap.”

He stands up ready to walk out when Charlotte says, “Oh no you don’t. You wait just a fucking minute. You’re part of this too.”

“Fine,” Sam groans and sits back down. He really is like a child.

I’m startled when Charlotte shifts her whole body in my direction.

“You knew about the picture.” Her voice comes out strained, and her face is filled with disbelief—not only disbelief but hurt. The way her eyes turn down in sadness and her eyes fill with tears is enough to gut me. She might as well have handed me a knife and told me to slice myself open.

“Mason, I’m only going to ask you one more time before I walk out that door.” She points toward the front of the house.

“Okay.” I step forward, raking my fingers through my hair. “Remember the day we went to search for your family? The day the flower delivery man gave us a ride?”

“You rode in a flower truck?” Sam asks. Charlotte and I glance at Sam still sitting on the couch, his mouth full and an open bag of crisps in his lap. One of the grocery bags I brought in is sitting beside him on the couch, its contents rifled through. Sometime in the past three seconds, Sam felt the need to grab himself a snack.

“Shut up, ye eegit,” I say to him before turning back to Char.

“Of course, I remember, Mason. That was the first day you started acting like a decent human being to me.” She points to her chest, slightly leaning forward. “That was the first day I made the mistake of thinking you were anything but the asshole I met on that airplane.”

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