After hiking all day, I was ready for a shower when we got back to the condo. We were going to a fancy steakhouse for dinner, so I got ready in the bathroom upstairs, since the window in my room still hadn’t been fixed. I took my time, really leaning into wavy curls and dramatic eye makeup. I don’t know why, but it felt important that I look good.
I was in the middle of drawing eyeliner tails (sharp enough to kill a man, of course), leaning up to the mirror and full-on concentrating, when my mom appeared in the doorway and whispered, “When did you and Charlie start dating?”
I looked at her in the mirror, and she looked rightfully surprised by what we’d thrown at her over breakfast. I was a terrible liar and immediately couldn’t remember if we’d come up with a backstory. I just said, “On the way here, kind of.”
“Oh.” She nodded and watched me, like she was reconciling it in her head. “So it’s new, then.”
“Brand-new,” I agreed.
“Ah.” I don’t know why, but that seemed to be the right answer. She looked relieved that we hadn’t been in some secret relationship she’d been unaware of. “Well, I like Charlie a lot, but make sure you take it slow, okay?”
I nodded and gave her a convincing “Okay.”
But after she walked away, take it slow kept pinging through my brain. Because even though, in the overall scheme of things, we were taking it very slow (because it wasn’t real), the chemistry between us felt crazy-fast.
Maybe because we’d gone from almost-friends to sleeping in the same room and kissing over breakfast. It was whiplash-fast, which was probably why I felt so unsteady around him.
That was why.
Just that.
The hike—when no one else was around—had been comfortable, so as I put away my makeup and sprayed my hair, I reminded myself to stop getting worked up.
It was all pretend. Charlie seemed to have no problem turning it on and off, and I was going to channel that energy and not worry about every spark that flew, because it was just a side effect of our superb acting.
Or something like that.
Once I pulled on my black dress, I ran down the stairs to look for my shoes in my suitcase.
“Wow.” Charlie was at the bottom of the stairs, and I nearly ran him down. He grabbed my upper arms to stop me, and then he smiled, his eyes strolling all over me.
“You look incredible, even though I don’t like you that way,” he said in a deep voice, his fingers applying the softest pressure to my skin. “Seriously, Glasses.”
I didn’t know if this was part of the faking or not, but the tone of his voice made my toes curl. Because regardless of how he meant it, I wanted him to mean it.
A compliment from Charlie was like the equivalent of three from another human.
“Shut up, loser,” I said, reaching out a hand to tug on his tie. He looked hot—he did—in black pants, a plaid button down, and a black tie. “You look like someone I’d call cute if I didn’t know you drink poop water.”
“Aww.” He let go of my arms and tugged on one of my curls instead. Then he looked at my mouth, raised his eyebrows, and asked, “May I, Girlfriend?”
Whoa. There was that superb acting again, because something about him calling me his girlfriend made warmth squeeze me like a hug. I looked up at his lips and Ohhh—he wants to kiss me again.
Just a game—enjoy it and quit overanalyzing.
I gave a nod that made his eyes crinkle around his smile as I said, “Of course, Boyfriend.”
His hands moved to my cheeks and his mouth lowered, and stopped just above mine. “What do you want here? Romantic and sweet, or hot and heavy?”
“I get to order like I’m at a drive-up window?” I asked, joking because my heart was suddenly pounding in my chest.
“Yep,” he said, giving me more of his charming grin. “May I take your order?”
I thought through my choices, and then came up with, “Okay. So pretend you’re obsessed with me, and I just told you that I’m moving to Moldova in the morning. This will be our one and only kiss, so you have to make it epic.”
“Why Moldova?” he asked, his eyebrows scrunching together in confusion.
“Why not Moldova? I mean, it’s coastal, right?”
“I don’t think so.” There was a smile in his voice as he said, “And doesn’t it cozy up to Ukraine?”
“Does it?” I breathed, my stomach getting a bat-sized butterfly as his eyes were so close, I felt like our lashes could brush. My voice was barely there as I said, “I can’t remember.”
“I honestly have no idea,” he agreed, moving even closer, his response low and deep.
“About that kiss,” I whispered, his eyes making me feel more daring than I actually was.
His hands tightened on my cheeks, and his mouth came down a little hard on mine. In a good way. He gave me a wide-open mouth kiss, angling his head perfectly to make the kiss feel deeper, hotter.
Holy shit.
When Charlie kissed, there was no hesitation. It was like he somehow knew exactly what I wanted and magically delivered it with just a little more than I’d even known to want. A shiver slithered through me as that talented boy somehow used suction to crank it even hotter, and my hands came up to rest on his chest.
He made a noise—a growl?—and he said against my lips, “I like feeling your hands on me while I kiss you.”
“Yeah?” I whispered, moving my fingertips the tiniest amount over his shirt.
“Oh yeah,” he said, and the look in his eyes made me a little breathless.
His mouth came back to mine, his teeth scraping over my bottom lip, and—
“Christ,” Scott said, walking into the room from the kitchen. “Can you two please cool it on the PDA?”
I jumped back from Charlie, but his hand casually moved to my hand, his fingers sliding between mine.
“Sorry,” I said, rubbing my lips together as my cheeks burned.
“Same,” Charlie added.
I looked at him out of the corner of my eye as a warm, bubbling buzz thrummed all around me. I wanted to laugh, to giggle like a moron, as his big hand squeezed mine.
My mom came down the stairs at that moment, breaking up the tension as Scott told her how gorgeous she looked. It was disgusting and I wanted to slap his grinning face, but I also couldn’t help but recognize that my mom looked blissfully happy.
Damn, damn, damn.
The bubbles I had from the kiss popped and went flat as I watched the two of them. She deserved to look that happy. I wanted her to be that happy.
But it wasn’t as simple as happiness, because what if that happiness changed everything?
Because my dad had seemed happy when he’d started seeing Alyssa, but just a few months later, he stopped attending our weekly Zoom chats and kept forgetting to respond to my texts.
He remembered to pen funny replies when Alyssa tagged him on Instagram, but he couldn’t seem to remember to reach out to his one and only daughter. I hated it so much, but it would be a thousand times worse if that happened with my mom.
Because my mom was more than just a mom to me; she was my everything.
So what happened to our us if she and Scott became the big US?
We loaded into his car, and he drove to the restaurant. I was quiet in the back as they talked about the chef who’d be cooking that night, and Charlie leaned closer and said, “Can I give you some kissing feedback?”
“No.” I felt my eyebrows screw together in irritation, both at the way my worries were ruining my fun and at the idea of Charlie criticizing the way I kissed.
But then—dammit—I needed to know. “Okay—what?”
“Be careful with that breathy little noise you make when a guy kisses you,” he said quietly, his voice making a tiny shiver slither down my spine. “It’s a little too sexy, and might give someone the wrong idea.”
“I’m sorry, but (a) I don’t make a breathy little noise, and (b) if I did, are you seriously slut-shaming the sound?”
He grinned so big, it was like a laugh. “Um, (c) yes, you do, and (d) not at all. It’s a fantastic sound that almost made me forget who I was kissing. But with great sexy sounds comes great responsibility.”
Almost made me forget who I was kissing. I didn’t like that phrase, even though it was how this was supposed to work. The whole thing was pretend, but for the love of God, no one wanted to hear that the person they were kissing liked forgetting who they were kissing.
I just said, “Got it.”
“By the way,” he went on, his voice rising to a normal volume, “I read about this gold-mining ghost town that’s only like an hour away. We should check it out tomorrow.”
“Ooh, for sure,” I said, torn between being disappointed by how easily he was able to move on and being a little excited about another day of exploring on our own.
“I was hoping you’d reconsider skiing,” Scott said, looking expectantly at me in the rearview mirror. “And go with us tomorrow.”
“Oh.” I looked at his face in the mirror and felt like garbage. He was a decent guy, and I was trying to sabotage him, his relationship with my mom, and his vacation. Guilt gnawed at me as he looked at me like someone who was really trying.
Charlie gave me a look, eyebrows cocked to remind me I was supposed to be avoiding Scott’s attempt at father-daughter bonding. I inhaled through my nose and said, “Well, um, maybe Charlie and I can go there with you guys and hang out for part of the day, and then take off for ghost towns?”
I saw Charlie slowly shaking his head in my peripheral vision, disappointed, as Scott beamed and said, “We’ll take it.”
“You’re so soft,” Charlie whispered, but I just ignored him and looked out the window.
How was I supposed to be mean to the guy all the time when he kept doing nice things?
Dinner was incredible.
The food at the old-school steakhouse was over-the-top (in a good way).
Bread and salad and spaghetti and steak and potatoes—it was like three entire meals in one, and I devoured it. My dad was the meat eater in our family, so aside from a random burger here and there, we didn’t eat a lot of beef anymore.
Hence my attempt to wolf down every last bite.
My mom and Scott had enough wine to make them happy and not exceptionally aware of Charlie’s and my presence.
Which was what made it so fun.
First, Charlie and I made wagers on what the people at the table beside us would order. I won the most points, which meant that when we got back to the condo, Charlie was going to have to do all the dishes I’d left in the sink. It seemed like a cruel thing to do on vacation, but bets were only bets if everyone was held accountable.
Charlie’s words, not mine.
After that, we fell into a game of making each other’s food unpalatable. We hadn’t intended for that to become an activity—it just happened organically. First, I told Charlie to try my twice-baked potatoes, but as I held my fork in front of his face, the potatoes fell into his prime rib’s au jus. As penance, I had to try a bite of lumpy au jus, which made me gag and made us both giggle.
Then I poured horseradish into his risotto and made him sample it, which led to more giggles as he shivered in disgust. By the time Scott paid the bill, my stomach hurt from quietly laughing so hard.
The four of us took a walk around Breckenridge after dinner, and I was happy Charlie was pouring the fake boyfriending on thick by putting his arm over my shoulders, mostly because his body was warm and mine was not.
“Do you always have to hang all over each other?” Scott asked, looking at Charlie but wearing a teasing grin for once. “I mean, last week you were just friends.”
I laughed because he was right, and so did Charlie as he said, “True, but once your eyes have been opened, you can’t unsee what you’ve seen.”
“Did you really just say that?” I teased. “That was, um… heavy…?”
“With bullshit,” Scott said.
And my mom added around a laugh, “With total bullshit.”
“Maybe,” Charlie said, looking at them, “but the bottom line is, now that I’ve seen what Bay could be to me, seeing her as just a friend is impossible.”
I felt his words, felt the power of their potential as we walked. My stomach flipped over as I breathed in his cologne and felt his warm arm, anchoring me against him.
I allowed myself for a half second to pretend he meant what he’d said.
My mom’s voice crooning “Awwww” pulled my eyes wide open.
“Wow,” I whispered sarcastically to Charlie, hoping he hadn’t noticed the way I’d melted into him. “So good.”
But. Was it strange that at that moment, I wanted his words to be true? This whole thing was just a game, and the real Charlie Sampson was a huge pain in the ass, but in that mountain moment, under the gorgeous moonlight, I wanted fake Charlie to be real and to mean what he’d just said.
Oh my God, oh my God, oh my God.
I needed to get myself together.
None of this was real, and I needed to stop forgetting that.
“Right?” he said to me, but his mouth was straight, his eyes serious before he pulled them away and turned his head.
When we got to the town square ice rink, my mom and Scott decided they wanted to skate, even though they totally weren’t dressed for it. Charlie and I stood off to the side and watched them for a few minutes, skating in dress clothes and looking fairly adorable in spite of their age.
“I don’t think our fake dating is having an effect at all,” I said, watching Scott gesturing wildly while my mom laughed.
“We just need to go harder,” Charlie replied. “Cause more friction.”
“Do you really think it matters?” I asked, feeling discouraged as I stared at the old people having more fun than me.
“Would you rather do nothing?” he asked.
I glanced at him out of the corner of my eye.
“Seriously. Risk versus reward,” he said, sounding very sure of himself. “The risk isn’t high—unless kissing is risky business—so why not keep trying?”
I tilted my head and turned to him. “So you’re saying—”
“We could stand here and watch them skate, or we could stick with the plan and make them uncomfortable.”
Did he want to kiss me again?
“Let’s do that,” I said, a little too quickly, but the truth was that I was dying to kiss him again.
Actually, I assured myself as I let my eyes wander over the dimple in his chin, kissing Charlie was a great idea. Because there were always sparks when you kissed someone new the first few times; that was natural.
So it stood to reason that the more I kissed Charlie and made the newness wear off, the less sparky it would be and the more clinical it would become.
This, I thought as he looked down at me, this was a plan.
“Atta girl.” Charlie grabbed my hand and led me over to a huge pine tree. We were still in public, but the tree gave us a little privacy. I felt the trunk against my back as he lowered his mouth toward mine, so close that our breath mingled, and then he stopped.
Hovered, his dark eyes hot on mine.
Sending electricity to every nerve ending in my body as he waited for me to make a move.
I set my hands on his chest, feeling bold as I caught his lower lip between my teeth and dragged them along the edge. His breathing was a little ragged when I licked at the corner of his mouth, and then I angled my head the tiniest amount and closed my eyes, feeling a wild confidence that was new and downright intoxicating.
Charlie had been still the entire time I’d been toying, but just like that, he moved in closer, pressing my back against the tree as his mouth took over. It was like when summer sprinkles give themselves over to the crack of thunder, abruptly switching from a light tease of rain to a lightning-fueled downpour.
His hands clenched on my face—not painful, but more of a flex—and his body moved even closer as his lips and teeth and tongue went wild over mine. The game was forgotten and technique left behind as he kissed me like I was moving to Moldova and this was the last time we’d ever be together.
He kissed me like he’d been holding back for years and was finally giving in.
No kiss, in the history of civilization, had ever been that good, and I grabbed his shirt in both of my hands and did my best to give back as perfectly—and thoroughly—as I was getting.
A noise broke through the storm, and I could hear people walking in our general direction.
Charlie pulled back and watched me, his eyes traveling all over my face. He didn’t grin or make a joke, and his voice was gravelly when he said, “They’re watching us.”
“What?” I asked, touching my lips with my index finger. “They are?”
His Adam’s apple moved as he swallowed and nodded. “They stopped skating and they’re talking. Dramatically.”
“Seriously?”
“Oh yeah,” he said, looking toward the rink. “Trouble in paradise, I think.”
“Um, that’s really great,” I mumbled, still stuck in a post-kiss stupor. I tucked my hair behind my ears and rambled, “Yes. Great.”
That brought his eyes back to my face, and his mouth slid into a slow half grin. “You are fucking gorgeous when you’re kiss drunk, Mitchell, did you know that?”
I grinned back at him, feeling hot in spite of the chilly fall evening. Drunk was exactly how I felt; blissfully, tipsily, giddily under the influence of Charlie—both his kiss and the unexpected compliment. His smirky fucking gorgeous felt, to me, like he’d called me the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen.
“I did not know that,” I said, biting the inside of my cheek to hold in the giggle. “Thank you.”
He reached out and ran his finger over my cheek, muttering “My favorite thing” before turning away from me and yelling, “It’s cold, Emily—can we go home and have cocoa, or are you skating all night?”
