Page 65

He shrugs. “I can’t get my shit together in anything right now. Baseball, classes…other stuff.”

Ah, other stuff.The plot thickens.

“Other stuff like…Harrison?” I ask.

Charlie’s eyes widen at the mention of Harrison’s name, and he quickly turns away, busying himself with the shower knobs. “What? No, I mean, maybe. I don’t know,” he stammers.

“Come on, man,” I press, my voice gentle but insistent. “Talk to me. You’ve been off ever since Coney Island. Hell, now that I think about it, I think you’ve been off since the Kappa Sig party.”

“I’m fine. Coney Island was fun. The Kappa Sig party was nothing special.”

That’s a bald-facedlie. There’s no way he’d brush off a Kappa Sig rager like it was nothing. “Bullshit. Something happened at that party that got you into this funk.”

He quickly reacts, turning off the shower and slamming his stall door shut with a clang. I wrap a towel around my waist and follow him out to the benches, where he’s already pulling on sweats and wrestling with his shirt.

“It’s not Harrison,” he says through the fabric. “Or maybe it is? Or maybe it’s…whatever!”

This is classic Charlie. One part melodrama, two parts confusion.

“Listen, if you really don’t want to talk about it?—”

“But that’s just it! I do want to talk about it! I just…I don’t know what I’m supposed to say! Or how to say it!” He finally gets his shirt on straight and slumps down onto the bench beside me. His elbows rest on his knees, and he stares at the floor. “I’m going for a walk,” he says, rising to his feet and walking out the door.

I dress in record speed, throwing on sweats and a hoodie before jogging out to meet him. He’s already halfway across the street, heading toward the neighborhood that borders Bainton Field. I catch up to him, falling into step beside his slouched form.

The air is cool, with a scent of freshly cut grass and blooming flowers hanging in the air. The sun is low in the sky, painting the clouds in soft hues of pink and orange. It’s the kind of evening that would normally put a smile on Charlie’s face.

We walk in silence for a few minutes, our sneakers scuffing against the pavement. The neighborhood is quiet, with only the occasional car passing by or a dog barking in the distance to let us know there are signs of life. It’s a stark contrast to the bustling energy of the city, and I can see why Charlie chose this route.

“So,” I say, breaking the silence. “The Kappa Sig party. What happened?”

Charlie takes a deep breath, shoving his hands deep into his pockets. “I ran into Olivia,” he says softly. “And we talked. Like, really talked.”

I raise an eyebrow. “Olivia?”

He nods, still not meeting my gaze. “Yeah. And it was…intense. We got into some deep shit, man.”

“What did you talk about, exactly?”

He takes another deep breath. “Us. Olivia told me about your fight at the poetry slam.”

My stomach drops out of my ass.Fuck.I never wanted him to know about that fight with Olivia, especially not the details. Because if he starts putting two and two together, he might realize that my feelings for him run deeper than best buds.

I’ve tried so damn hard to keep that shit locked down tight. To act as if everything’s normal between us and like my heart doesn’t race every time he flashes me that goofy grin. Like I don’t constantly fight the urge to reach out and touch him, to feel the warmth of his skin against mine.

But the truth is, I’m head over heels for the guy. Have been ever since that wild New Year’s Eve when we ended up in that jail cell with Harrison. After we kissed, I started seeing Charlie in a whole new light. Suddenly, I wanted him in a way I’d never wanted anyone before. And it scared the ever-loving shit out of me.

I thought I could ignore it—push it down and pretend it wasn’t there. But Olivia saw right through me. She called me out on it at the poetry slam. Accused me of being in love with my best friend.

I denied it, of course. Told her she was being ridiculous. But she knew. She could see the truth written all over my face.

And now, thanks to her big mouth, Charlie knows too. Or at least, he suspects. And I have no idea what the hell I’m supposed to do about it.

I swallow hard. “What exactly did Olivia say?”

Charlie kicks at a pebble, sending it skittering across the sidewalk. “She said she thinks you’re in love with me. And that I’m in love with you.”

I let out a humorless laugh, shaking my head. “That’s crazy, man. Olivia was just being Olivia. You know how she gets when she’s pissed.”