Page 54 of Betting on You

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWOCharlie

“Who’s going to go get us a pitcher of Coke?” Nekesa asked.

Planet Funnn’s front desk crews were allowed a complimentary pitcher of soda every shift, which led to a complimentary argument during every shift.

Nekesa looked at Bailey, knowing she’d cave because Bailey always caved.

“Not me,” Theo said from his spot on the floor, where he was crouched and trying to unjam the printer for the third time that day. Theo was an idiot with the tech skills of a senior citizen, but I wasn’t about to help him.

“Fixing” the printer kept him marginally less talkative than usual.

“Not me,” I muttered, “because I got it last time.”

“That doesn’t count because you were working alone.” Bailey rolled her eyes at me, looking at my propped-up feet and the book in my hand as if they disgusted her.

I said, “You know you’re going to do it.”

“Yeah,” Theo said. “Just go, Bailey.”

“Ugh—I’ll go, you bag of dicks,” Nekesa said, splitting a glare between Theo and me. “I’mallowed to walk all over Bay because of our history, butyoucannot.”

I actually felt likeIwas allowed to walk all over Bay because she’d push back—hard—if she didn’t like it.

Theo stopped fucking with the printer. “I’ll go with you, because there’s no way you can carry it without spilling.”

He was terrible at flirting, yet Nekesa seemed to be all about it.

“I can too.” Nekesa laughed, grinning at Theo.

Bailey was watching them intently, a tiny crinkle in her forehead, and I swear to God I could hear the chaos pinging around in her brain. She knew her friend was flirting, could see the chemistry between Theo and Nekesa, and she was desperately trying to find a way to intervene.

Trust me, Bay,I thought as she tucked her long hair behind her ears,coworkers cannot be platonic friends.

“I don’t think so,” Theo said in a nauseating singsong voice, and then the two of them were off, wandering down the hall that led toward the Funstaurants.

Yeah—it was only a matter of time for those two.

Bailey pulled her phone out of the pocket of her flight suit, and I said, “Don’t do it.”

“Do what?” she said, looking startled by the fact that I was onto her.

“Don’t get involved.” I set down my book and dropped my feet to the floor. “Nekesa is a big girl.”

“I don’t care about your bet,” she said, biting the inside of her cheek as she put away the phone and logged into reservations to check for cancellations.

“Really.”

“As much as you do,” she corrected. A long-suffering sigh was followed by a throat-clearing and then, “Anyway, Nekesaisa big girl, a big boyfriend-loving girl.”

“Uh-huh.”

“Stop that,” she said through gritted teeth, swinging her gaze to mine. “Sheis.”

“Sure she is,” I said, stretching out the words just to irritate her. “You just keep thinking that, Bay.”

“I will…,” she murmured, trailing off in that pouty way that made it hardnotto smile. “Why don’t you go back to your Murakami and leave me alone?”

I was super into the latest Murakami—as in, I couldn’t put it down in spite of the things I hated about it—and when I mentioned it to her yesterday, she told me she’d never heard of the author until Joe Goldberg mentioned him.

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