“Awe, babe. You can’t sleep without me, huh? I know it’s hard, but pretty soon you can move to Washington with me. The semester’s almost done, and I’ve been talking with a lot of clients out there, and some of them have some great leads on some firms you can intern with, unless your referral works out,” Trevor says, his voice once again upbeat.
I shut my eyes, disgusted with myself. “Yeah, that’d be great. I need to do a little more work on that,” I swallow. “Hey, I’ll be out in just a minute, kay?”
“Okay. I’ll meet you downstairs,” he says.
I hold my breath until I hear the bedroom door close. Jim flew in, and I can hear football on in the living room. I know Trevor will be sitting with him on the sofa, and I know how uncomfortable things are going to get as soon as Cody arrives—both because Jim will want nothing to do with him, and because he’ll have Kyla on his arm, and I’ll feel like ripping her throat out.
I’m not given much time to prepare myself as the doorbell rings the second I step down the stairs. I see Cody first, and I’m breathless at the site of him. He’s actually wearing a suit with a tie. The jacket and pants are fitted and gray, and the shirt is a lighter gray with a thin black tie. He pulls his jacket off and hands it to his mother, who’s not yet drunk, it seems. She hangs it over the banister and, as she does, he looks up, his stare meeting mine.
His smile is soft, and his eyes seem bluer than normal against the darkness of his clothes. He pushes his sleeves up slightly, a nervous habit of his that I’ve come to learn. It shows off his tattoos when he does, and he looks like some snowboarding Olympian about to introduce the next award at the Grammy’s.
We’re both locked on one another, and I’m frozen halfway down the steps, wanting desperately to run to him—to have him make this aching I feel better. I dressed for him today, wearing the same leggings and sweater with my boots that I did the night we kissed. I’m making a statement with my outfit—I’m begging him to remember that night, to want me the same way I want him.
I almost think I have him, too, but then Kyla comes into view—and she’s f**king gorgeous. Her hair is jet black, and it’s silky smooth down to the waist of her skirt. Her curves are accentuated by the pencil-thin, long, black skirt she’s wearing, with spiked boots and a lacy top that you can see her bra through—completely. She looks like she belongs with Cody, and I know in that moment that I don’t have a shot in hell.
She follows Cody’s eyes to mine and takes me in. I watch her eye me, starting at my feet and working her way up, and then she smiles, her teeth bright-white against the cherry of her lips. I don’t even realize I’m moving when I only have a few steps left between us, and she’s reaching out her hand.
“Hi, you must be Charlie?” she says. I hate her for saying my name, and I hate that Cody’s given her any sense of permission to use it—I hate that he’s talked about me to her at all. God, I hope he wasn’t with her when he read my text.
“It’s Charlotte, actually,” I say, flashing a look in his direction. He curls the side of his mouth with a short, “Sorry,” but then continues into the living room to shake Trevor’s hand and to talk with Jim. I try not to blame Cody, because I know how important today is, how important this very moment is. He’s been practicing this speech with Trevor for days, and I know he’s ready.
So I indulge in my new acquaintance, doing my best to listen to her every word. “I’ve heard so much about you. Cody says he helps you with calculus?” she says, like I’m some sad, pathetic student—a child—who Cody’s been gracious enough to volunteer his time to help.
I fight against my instinct to push back and tell her I’ve heard about her and what she did to Cody. Instead, I smile and wait patiently for Gabe and Jessie to join the conversation.
“Yes, well…I’m not the best at math,” I say, deciding humility makes me a better person.
“Oh, me neither. I didn’t go to school. I dropped out at 16, actually. That’s when I got signed,” she says, reaching into her purse to pull out a piece of gum, which she starts snapping almost the second it’s stuffed into her mouth. I’m wincing at the obnoxious sound, but am quickly distracted by Jessie.
“Yeah, she’s a model,” she says, making air quotes around the word and causing Gabe to laugh. Kyla shoves him playfully, and that earns her a death glare from Jessie, who’s quick to work her way in between her man and the supermodel-dropout.