Page 80 of What are the Chances

“Why did you bring me back to your room to watch zombies?”

“Mason,” she laughs.

“Well?” I ignore her reluctance and toss the pillow over my shoulder, not daring to take my eyes off her.

She pretends to be surprised at me removing the pillow. She gasps, her eyes spread wide. But then, just as quickly, she playfully shrugs.

“I wanted to watch this show. I’ve been binge watching it this past week.”

“No.” I twist my mouth, still grinning, and click my tongue. “That’s not it.” I pause before asking, “What are you thinking?”

“What?” She rolls her eyes and groans. I don’t miss how she subtly tilts her head into my hand. “How about you first? You tell me what you’re thinking.”

I almost feel like we're a couple of teenagers, afraid to tell the other we have a secret crush on them. I smile, loving where this conversation is headed.

“You really want to know what I was thinking?”

She nods her head, willing me to answer. I slide my hand along her cheek, feeling the curve of her jaw, the bend of the skin forming her neck. her pulse beating against the pads of my fingertips. My heart races, thrashing against my ribs. My body heats, and my skin tingles with the thoughts still running rampant through my brain.

“I was thinking about Christmas,” I say nonchalantly. The words spill from my mouth so effortlessly. If I’m honest, I’ve thought of what I’m about to tell her more than once. I’ve thought these same things ever since the day I realized I was in love with her. Nonetheless, I hold my breath, waiting for her response. I’m taking a risk telling her my deepest thoughts and plans, hoping this will somehow let her know just how deep I am in this with her.

“Christmas?” Her eyebrows turn down in confusion as her back presses into the pillows behind her. I lower my hand and absently run my fingertip along the top of her thigh.

“Yeah, I was thinking about how we might spend Christmas with my parents’ this year. Sam and Emily will be there, still high on their newlywed marital bliss. And of course, Alma will be there.”

“Mason, I don’t—”

I cut Charlotte off, raising my hand and pressing my finger to her lips. She gasps, feeling my skin against her mouth. How is it possible for my lips to be jealous of my own finger?

“You told me to tell you what I was thinking, so this is what I was thinking about.” I say, half-joking. I tilt my head to the side, keeping my finger pressed against her mouth. Looking up, my eyes search Charlotte’s room.

“Then I was thinking about how your place looks much better than mine. This place would be perfect for a cat. My flat is so drab, only filled with the essentials. But your place.” I bring my eyes back to hers. “Your place is filled with life.” When I finish, I slowly remove my finger from her mouth. She releases a breath and stares at me. For a moment, I start to wonder whether I’ve scared her away, but my doubts are pushed to the side when she grins.

“You’re comparing my place to yours in California?” I can tell she takes pride in her home, the one she made all by herself. “I don’t think that’s a fair comparison.” She looks around the room, clearly confused. My stomach flutters for the millionth time tonight, amused at our conversation.

“I mean,” she continues, her eyes falling back to mine. “they’re completely different places. California is so different from here. I’m sure you go to the beach all the time, at least I used to.”

“No, not really,” I disagree.

“I don’t understand what you’re telling me, Mase. None of what you’re saying makes sense.”

“I was also thinking maybe we could just celebrate New Year’s Eve by ourselves,” I shrug, ignoring her statements, having way too much fun. “Or whatever you want to do.”

It’s kind of fun watching her. Her face is a constant shift from confusion to amusement, her eyes shining against the glow inside her room. She’s imagining everything I’ve imagined, imagining the moments I’m describing to her.

I place my hand on the other side of her leg, my arms caging her in. The muscles of my arms flex, my hands dipping into the mattress. The same silence from before falls between us. It isn’t until this moment, I realize the episode has ended, and the TV is quiet.

“Mason.” Her eyes turn down in sadness, her shoulders falling with a heavy sigh. Her sadness cracks the image I have of us together, the worry seeping back into my bones.

“I want to be with you, Charlotte,” I finally admit. “All this silence and fighting is stupid. I want to be with you.”

“I don’t see how that’ll work.” She shakes her head. “That’s a lot of flying, Mason. California is too far for you to be flying back and forth, just to see me and be with me.”

“California? Who ever said anything about California?”

“Mason.” She pauses, raising her eyebrows, her mouth opening and closing a few times, deciding on her next words. “I love you. I still love you and I want you more than anyone I’ve ever wanted before. You gave me the time I needed, the time I wanted. And yes, it’s been hard being without you, but I never stopped wanting you. That’s what makes this so hard. This is why we can’t do this. I won’t be the reason you uproot your entire life. You once told me the reason you moved to the States. I won’t be another woman who sways you into changing everything. I won’t.”

“You’re not swaying me, Charlotte. Moving to California was my decision. It wasn’t Claire’s. No one made it for me.” I take a moment to digest Charlotte’s confession. She wasn’t worried about our separation or whether we should just be friends. She’s worried about the distance—a distance that no longer exists.

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