Page 35 of Betting on You

“Are you finished?” I asked, staring pointedly at his empty plate. “I want to get rolling on Operation Ditching Scott.”

“So impatient,” he said, reaching out a hand and messing up my hair. “My bright-eyed student.”

“My dumbass instructor,” I said, smacking his hand before fixing my hair. “Let’s go.”

CHAPTER FOURTEENCharlie

What the fuck was I doing?

Going to her house??

I’d been serious about trying to help her, mostly because Bailey seemed so wide-eyed and trusting that she was going to be shattered when reality reared its ugly head. I knew we weren’t going to be able to stop it, becauselife, but at least if we fought, she wouldn’t feel helpless.

I fuckinghatedfeeling helpless.

Because helplessness was a little like waterboarding (I saida little). Someone else has all the control while you feel like you can’t breathe and like it’s never going to stop.

Logically you know it will—eventually that bucket is going to be empty, right?—but that doesn’t help the panic when the dousing is constant.

God, I’m so fucked-up.

But helping her was one thing.

Going to herhouseto help her?

Terrible idea.

CHAPTER FIFTEENBailey

“Does my hair look okay?” Charlie asked.

I stopped digging for my keys and looked at Charlie, who was giving me a goofy smile and patting his head like he cared. I shook my head and muttered, “You’re stunning.”

“Why, thank you.”

When I got the door unlocked, I took a deep breath before walking inside. No one was in the kitchen, but I could hear my mother’s voice in the living room.

“Be a dick,” Charlie muttered, his voice deep in my ear, and it made me shiver. Which made him say, “I felt that.”

I turned and looked at him, blinking fast at the sexy grin lining his face. He had one of those half smiles that suggested he knew alotabout all the things I knew only a little about. He said, “What? I didn’t mean anything by it. I was just stating the fact that I felt you get a chill.”

I swallowed and hated that my cheeks were insta-hot. “Okay.”

“From my mouth’s closeness,” he teased, and I would’ve gotten irritated if his words weren’t followed by the laid-back chuckle that I’d heard him use all day at work with Theo.

Casual. Harmless.

“Bay?” my mom yelled. “You home?”

“Yeah,” I said, grabbing Charlie’s sleeve and pulling him into the living room with me. He grunted quietly in response to my bossiness, and I said, “Sorry I’m late.”

But when we got fully into the room, I let go of his arm and crossed mine tightly over my chest, hating what I saw. My mom was leaning on Scott on the couch, her feet tucked underneath her like she’d never been more comfortable in her life. He was wearing flannel pajama pants, a baggy T-shirt, and those motherloving white crew socks that made me irrationally angry.

God, what if I’m too late to stop this from becoming our new normal?

“Oh.” My mom looked surprised at the sight of Charlie. “Hey there, person I don’t know.”

“Yeah,” I said, tucking my hair behind my ears. “This is Charlie—we work together.”

---