Page 32

Chapter 33

CHARLOTTE

I moan and kick my feet as Brynn tugs on my arm, knocking a flurry of Reese’s Mini Cups wrappers all over the floor. “Just leave me be,” I groan.

“No,” Brynn growls. “This is an intervention!”

“I don’t need an intervention,” I say, stuffing another chocolate into my mouth.

“Your waistline says otherwise,” Samantha says with an arched brow.

I gasp. “Are you fat-shaming me?”

She snickers at the same time Brynn lets go of my arm, causing me to flop back onto my back.

“Charlotte Baker,” she says, placing her hands on her hips, “it’s been five days. You can’t just lie around depressed for the rest of your life.”

A flash of my mother’s mournful expression flickers in my head, and my stomach sinks. Oh, god. Is Brynn right? Is this it? The moment I become my mother?

My stomach roils as I bolt upright in bed, the sudden movement?and okay, the massive amount of sugar I’ve consumed?causing my head to spin. Reaching up to my forehead, I try to find my equilibrium. “Maybe you’re right,” I mutter.

“Damn straight, I’m right. Now, I don’t know what happened between you and Chris, and you don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to, but?”

“Is it that obvious?” I ask, dropping my hand with a frown.

I sure as hell haven’t told anyone what happened between us. What would I even say? Chris ditched my sorry ass because I’m pathetic and unlovable and have a mother who’s more like a child who I can’t seem to abandon in order to save myself?

Yeah, not happening.

“It’s pretty obvious.” Liz winces.

“You’ve been moping and skipping classes while consuming nothing but junk”?Brynn motions toward the candy wrappers as evidence?“while Chris has been suspiciously MIA all week, save for football practice.”

Samantha nods in confirmation. “He hasn’t been gone this much since summer semester of our freshamn year.”

Sighing, I stand and pad my way to my bureau where I pull out Chris’s hoodie and bring it to my nose, inhaling his scent like the addict I am.

“Stop that!” Brynn admonishes, ripping it out of my hands.

My mouth gapes as I yank it back and shove it back inside the drawer where it belongs, lest she get any ideas.

“That’s it. We’re going to Jace’s place.”

“What? Nooo ,” I whine. “What if he’s there?” I’m not ready to face him. Not after he’s been ghosting my calls all week. And okay, I may have showed up at their apartment multiple times hoping to find him. I’m surprised Jace isn’t ready to get a restraining order.

“Who cares if he’s not there? You need cheering up, and the guys are hanging out tonight, so we’re going to go and laugh and drink and have fun. And avoiding their apartment isn’t an option considering I’m in love with the big hunky brunette whose room is next to his.” She grins.

“Fine,” I say with a groan. “Just let me get changed.”

Brynn’s gaze flickers up and down my body, a curl to her lip as she says, “Might wanna get a shower, too.” Waving at my head, she adds, “And wash your hair.”

#

I accept my second seltzer of the night, focusing back on the competitive game of quarters we have brewing. Brynn, Damon, Brandon, Liz, Samantha, and I are all gathered around the coffee table, each of us with a drink in our hands as we wait our turn. So far, Jace is crushing it, winning more than half the rounds. Brynn sinks a coin into her cup and turns to him, fist raised in triumph. “Drink, baby!”

Jace tips his beer back and takes a sip before smacking a sloppy kiss on Brynn’s lips. “Ew!” She swats at him with a laugh while I watch with a frown, wishing it were me and Chris.

Jealousy curls inside my stomach as I rise to my feet, unsure of how much more of this I can take. Everything is a reminder of him as it is. Hanging out in his apartment is like torture.

“Where are you going?” Brynn glances up at me with a look of concern.

“Just the bathroom,” I offer with a plastic smile.

Turning, I head for the bathroom but find myself in Chris’s room instead. My gaze sweeps over the tidy room?his plaid bedspread, the picture of his brothers on his dresser, a football resting on his nightstand?and my heart gives a little kick. It smells like him in here, and it makes me miss him even more than I already am.

Part of me refuses to believe we’re over. I screwed up, but it’s nothing I can’t mend. If he’d just hear me out, he’d understand I only sabotaged our parents’ relationship out of a place of pain. If he’d just listen to what I have to say, he’d realize that in the past six weeks, Chris has become indispensable, an integral part of my life I’m not sure I can live without.

Correction: I’m not my mother. I can live without Chris, and I will if I have to, because I won’t become her, but I don’t want to. I want him with me. Just like I want to put myself first and make him a priority.

Sinking down on the edge of the bed, I sigh and close my eyes. I have no idea where he’s been the last few days. All I know is that he’s attended football practice and his classes, so I can only assume he’s avoiding me, spending time at home so he won’t have to risk running into me.

Blinking my eyes open, my gaze lands on his nightstand, zeroing in on the little red notebook with the big black lettering on the front that reads The Love Playbook.

With a frown, I flip it open, ignoring the resulting pang of guilt at the prospect of snooping through his things. The neat scrawl of his handwriting fills the first page, and I’m hit with a pang of longing so profound, I have to grip the edge of the bed just to stay upright.

A Guidebook on How to Win Lettie’s Heart.

My breath catches in my throat as I hurriedly flip through the little book to reveal a carefully drafted plan—“plays” as he calls them—on how to win me over.

Shock runs in my veins as I scan the pages, each one labeled with a play, followed by notes below it: dates he completed them, intimate details, and thoughts on where his head was at.

Play 1# : Bring her coffee or a hot beverage just because.

Operation Caffeinate went well. Though I vehemently oppose tea as a beverage of choice, I brought her a cup of some herbal concoction that smelled like my grandma’s sofa. I have no idea how she drinks that dirty potpourri water, but whatever. After she got over her initial shock, her face brightened when she took the first sip, making it worth the thirty minutes I stood in line.

Play #2: Cook for her or bring her food.

Seeing as how she’s still in “I hate Chris mode,” cooking for her at my place isn’t an option, so I brought her breakfast instead. It’s all a part of my grand plan to complete play number three. I’m all about efficiency, and rumor has it, she talked to Soccer Guy long after I left the party last night, and I can’t have that.

PS: Today I discovered she loves cinnamon rolls and looks fucking amazing in my hoodie. I think I’m in love.

Play #3: Help her with a problem.

Apparently, I’m fucking amazing at this love playbook thing. I mean, today, I helped her fix her car and was promised a date in return. That’s called W-I-N-N-I-N-G, baby.

Play #4: Show my possessive side.

Today I tracked that soccer douche down and gave him his hoodie back. He’s lucky I didn’t burn it. If he’s smart, he’ll heed my advice and leave Lettie alone.

PS: She’s mine.

Play #5: Do something you hate just because she’s into it.

Hot yoga. Though I almost sweat my dick off, it was worth it. I think Lettie and I really had a breakthrough tonight.

PS: I’m falling for her. Hard.

Play #6: Take care of her when she’s sick.

I will admit, this one was a fucking challenge, and desperate times call for desperate measures, so when she stopped by our apartment the other day, I took a sip of her drink when she wasn’t looking. I’ve had a scratchy throat and stuffy nose all week, but still nothing. Not even a sniffle or a headache for days afterward. She has a suspiciously strong immune system. Will update later.

A-ha! I finally crushed play #6. Call me the Love Playbook master, because I fucking helped her care for her sick mother. That has to count for double the points or something.

My chest tightens with each entry I read, each equally ridiculous yet thoughtful, but it’s not the plays themselves that get me. It’s the notes beneath them, the moments he’s recorded with all the energy and excitement of a child, because it’s so utterly Chris.

Finally, I reach the last page, the final entry written in big, bold letters: Be yourself, and hope she sees you’re made to be together.

Unable to take anymore, I snap the notebook closed while I try to wrap my mind around a man who has so carefully crafted his approach yet hasn’t said a word about it. A man who gave up when he realized I might never put him first.

A sob rips through my chest, and I cover my mouth with the back of my hands to stifle the sound.

“Are you okay?”

I jump at the intrusion, my gaze darting to the door where Brynn’s silhouette hovers in the entryway to his room, her eyes taking in the book in my hands. “You found it?” she whispers.

My eyes round. “You knew about this?”

“Are you mad?” she asks, a nervous edge to her tone.

“Because you kept it from me?”

She nods. “For the record, he thought if you fell in love, you might change your mind about your parents, but he also wanted you. He’s wanted you for a while.”

I swallow, digesting this new piece of information. “I think he’s done with me.”

“Are you sure?” she asks, sinking down onto the bed beside me.

I lay my head on Brynn’s shoulder with a sigh. “It’s complicated, but I was in the wrong, and when we fought, he said I can’t do this as in me?us.”

“I just can’t see him giving up that easily.” I can hear the frown In Brynn’s voice. “You need to talk to him,” she continues. “I’m sure it’s not as dire as you think.”

“You mean after he stops avoiding me?” Kinda like I avoided him after the bridal fitting.

“You don’t know he’s avoiding you,” Brynn says, but I can tell by her tone that even she doesn’t believe it. Still, she’s trying hard to lift my spirits, and as I sit there gripping the Love Playbook, it feels nice to hope?to pretend she might be right.

“I hope you’re right,” I say, because right now I have a Chris-sized hole inside my heart.