Page 112 of Betting on You

I took it into a fitting room, and one second after I closed the door, a piece of popcorn landed on my head. I brushed it off, reached for the button on my jeans, and said, “Knock it off, Sampson.”

“I don’t like being bored,” he said from his spot somewhere outside my door, “and shooting for your little room gives me a challenge.”

Another piece of popcorn fell onto the bench beside me.

I picked it up and tossed it over the wall. “Was I close?”

“That was weak, Mitchell,” he said. “If I were you, I’d stand on that bench and get a visual. That way you’ve got a better shot of hitting me.”

“You’re just trying to get me to look like an idiot, standing on the bench and peeking over like a child,” I said, wondering how Charlie could be so much more fun than everyone else.

As I wondered that, a piece of popcorn landed on my head. Again.

I changed into the dress while popcorn rained down on me, and then I stepped up onto the bench.

And when I looked over the door, he was standing right beside it. Like, actually leaning on it.

“That’s not a challenge.” I laughed, surprised to be looking down at his upturned face. “You’re basically just dropping them into my room because you’re a giant. Lazy.”

“Come out and show me your bargain dress,” he said, grinning up at me.

“Okay,” I said, feeling that familiarsomethingas I hopped down and came out of the fitting room.

“I like the dress,” he said, his eyes all over me, and then he did a motion with his finger, telling me to spin around.

I did, and he nodded in appreciation. “Reminds me of something a little kid would wear to recess. Buy it.”

“I’m not sure that’s the aesthetic I was going for,” I said, looking at it in the mirror.

“Okay, then—it reminds me of something that would assure a principal that a new student was a nice girl.”

“Oh my God,” I said, turning to see the back. “I don’t think I want this dress anymore.”

“Wait, wait, wait,” he said, tilting his head a little and crossing his arms. “I’ve got it. It looks like something the weird best friend would wear in a rom-com.”

“If you’re trying to convince me to buy it, you suck at this,” I said, going back into the fitting room to change.

“I ambeggingyou to buy it,” he said, and my heart nearlystopped at the growly sound of his voice. I stood there, frozen in front of the mirror, overanalyzing his comments as was my new normal.

“Is that what that was?” I asked slowly, trying to sound careless and light.

“You know what it was,” he said, sounding almost… defeated by the words.

What did that mean? Did he like me in the dress and not want to? Because he didn’t want to lead me on, or because he didn’t want to feel things?

“I’m going to go get the cat toy.”

“Um.” I blinked at the jarring subject change before pulling the dress over my head. “Okay.”

“I’ll go to the pet aisle and you can meet me there.”

“Sounds good,” I said, feeling like he was literally putting distance between us on purpose.

Just as I was opening the fitting room door, my phone buzzed. I fished it out of my bag, fully expecting a message from Charlie about cat toys.

But it was from Zack.

Zack: I have to know. Did you act out Breaking Bad or did you reset your password?

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