Falling for You

Chapter 15

Chapter fifteen

Bash

The early morning sun slants through my bedroom window as I zip up my suitcase. Everything's packed. Thermal layers, snow gear, toiletries and one obnoxious holiday sweater with actual working lights that Tyler called "the perfect ugly sweater."

"Let's review again," Tyler says, sprawling across my bed and tossing a stress ball toward the ceiling.

I glance at my best friend. His blonde hair is still damp from his post-gym shower, hazel eyes barely containing their amusement.

Despite being a good three inches shorter than me, he's built like a tank.

Years of competitive swimming left him with shoulders nearly as broad as mine and today he's in his standard weekend uniform: black Nike joggers and a faded Colorado State hoodie that's seen better days.

"Nothing to review," I say, double-checking my toiletry bag. "We're just two adults pretending to be in love for a week."

Tyler catches the stress ball and points it at me accusingly. "Except one of you isn't pretending."

"Shut up."

"Just saying." He sits up, grinning. "Most guys don't fly across the country to meet the parents of a woman they're 'just helping out.'"

I zip my toiletry bag and toss it in my suitcase. "You're the one who told me to go for it."

"Quick, what's her favorite food?" He asks suddenly.

I roll my eyes but play along. "Thai. Specifically, pad see ew, extra spicy."

"Allergies?"

"Shellfish gives her hives, and she's sensitive to cheap metal jewelry. Her ears turn red."

"First date location?"

"The new italian place downtown. I impressed her with my extensive wine knowledge." I've memorized our fabricated history so thoroughly it almost feels like a real memory—Charlie laughing across the table, fork raised in mock battle over the last bite.

"Wedding song?"

I snatch the stress ball mid-air and peg it at his head. "Fuck off."

Tyler cackles and dodges the ball. "Hey! Just making sure you're prepared for all possibilities." He checks his watch. "We should head out before traffic becomes a nightmare."

I grab my bags and we load them into Tyler's truck along with my favorite snowboard. The December air has a bite to it this morning, but nothing compared to what's waiting in Colorado. Tyler cranks the heat and we pull away from my townhouse.

"You nervous?" he asks after a few minutes of silence.

"About what? Playing the doting boyfriend? I think I can manage." I watch the suburban landscape roll by, all decked out with holiday decorations.

"About spending a week with Charlie, pretending to be madly in love with her, while sleeping in the same room."

I shoot him a look. "Well, when you put it like that..."

"While meeting her parents and her ex?"

"You're really helping, you know that?"

"Just doing my job as best friend." He drums his fingers on the steering wheel. "You know, most guys would kill for this setup. A legitimate excuse to hold hands, cuddle by the fire, share a bed with someone they're into."

"It's not that simple."

"When is it ever?" He challenges, merging onto the highway.

I'm saved from responding when my phone buzzes. Charlie's name appears on the screen, and I can't help the immediate smile that forms.

Tyler glances over. "Oh god. Look at your face. Can I be your best man at the wedding?"

"Shut up," I mutter, opening the text.

Hey. We're heading to the airport now. Mom's already texting about meeting you. Hope you're ready for the Whitaker family interrogation.

Shortcake

Tyler tries to peek at my screen. "What's she saying? Is it something spicy?"

I angle the phone away. "She's just checking in."

"That smile says otherwise."

I ignore him and type back:

On our way too. And don't worry, I'll charm the pants off your parents. Not literally though. That would be weird.

I stare at my phone, waiting for her response. Three dots appear, disappear, then reappear.

Just don't overdo it. My dad has a BS detector that could put the FBI to shame.

Shortcake

Good thing I'm not BSing. At least not about liking you.

That might be pushing it, but I want to set the tone. This week can't be all awkward avoidance if we're supposed to be dating.

Her response comes quickly.

Smooth. But save some for the actual trip. We have a slight logistical issue though.

Shortcake

What's up?

My parents have first class seats…Dad's back problems. Emily and I are in coach. Where are you sitting?

Shortcake

I glance at Tyler, who's humming along to some Christmas song on the radio. "Do you think the airport will let me change my seat from first to coach?"

"What? Why?"

"Charlie and her sister are in coach. Her parents are in first class."

I look back down at my phone.

I'm in first class. But don't worry, I have a plan.

Bash, no. Whatever you're thinking, no.

Shortcake

Trust me, Shortcake. I'll see you at the airport.

I tuck my phone away. "I'll give my seat to her sister. That way Charlie and I can sit together in coach."

Tyler barks out a laugh. "Man, you have it bad."

"It's called commitment to the role."

"Right. The role." He pulls into the Departures lane at Austin–Bergstrom International Airport "Well, this is where I leave you to your romantic comedy adventure."

We grab my bags and head toward the check-in. The holiday crowd is already thick, families dragging overtired kids and oversized luggage through security lines.

"There she is," Tyler nods toward the check-in counter.

Charlie stands with her back to us, her auburn hair falling in waves down her back. She's wearing leggings and an oversized cream sweater that hits mid-thigh and even from behind, something about her posture seems tense.

"I'll leave you to it," Tyler says, clapping me on the shoulder. "Try not to overthink everything. And text me if you survive meeting her parents."

"Thanks for the ride, man." I grab my snowboard bag from him

"And remember—" He claps my shoulder

"Daily updates. Got it." I say adjusting my carry-on backpack.

"I was going to say, 'don't forget to use condoms,' but sure, updates work too."

I flip him off as he starts backing away, but we're both smiling. The nerves I've been ignoring all morning are kicking in. Nerves about seeing her again, about meeting her family and playing this high-stakes game of pretend.

I take a deep breath and make my way to her, feeling oddly like I'm about to step onto a halfpipe for the first time again—that mix of adrenaline and uncertainty, and maybe just a tiny bit of confidence.

"Mornin', Shortcake."

She turns, startled, and her expression shifts from surprise to something softer before she schools it back to neutral. "Hi. You're early."

"I like airports."

"You like... airports?" One eyebrow arches delicately.

"People-watching, remember? Best place to watch on the planet.

Second only to Vegas." I nod to the family arguing three counters down, the father gesturing wildly at a violently overpacked suitcase splitting at the seams. "Ten bucks says they end up buying another bag or leaving half their stuff behind. "

A reluctant smile tugs at her lips. "No bet. That zipper's holding on by a prayer."

I move closer towards her. "How long have you been here?"

"Only about fifteen minutes. I was too keyed up to sleep." She tugs at the sleeves of her sweater, a nervous gesture I've noticed before. "I got us coffee. Yours is black with one sugar, right?"

She hands me a cup from the cardboard tray on the counter, and I'm momentarily stunned. She remembered.

"Look at you, being a thoughtful girlfriend already," I tease.

She rolls her eyes. "I just didn't want to deal with you uncaffeinated this early in the morning."

I'm about to say something when I hear my name being called.

"Sebastian?"

I turn at the sound of an unfamiliar female voice, instinctively holding out my hand. The woman approaching us is unmistakably Charlie's mother—same hazel eyes, same chin, though her hair is a silvery blonde rather than Charlie's auburn.

"Mrs. Whitaker, I presume?" I flash my most charming smile. "It's a pleasure to finally meet you."

"Margaret, please." She pulls me into a hug, appraising me with a warm but thorough glance that feels like she's cataloging every detail. "Charlotte's told us... well, actually, very little about you."

Behind her, a tall man with salt-and-pepper hair and Charlie's same wry expression approaches, carrying what looks like four boarding passes.

"This is my dad, Richard," Charlie says, her voice pitched slightly higher than normal. She's nervous.

I step forward, extending my hand. "Sir, it's great to meet you."

He gives me a firm handshake, his gaze direct. "So you're the reason my daughter's been so distracted these past few months."

"Dad," Charlie protests, but I just laugh.

"Guilty as charged. Though in my defense, she's pretty distracting herself."

I glance at Charlie, whose cheeks have gone adorably pink. This is actually kind of fun.

"Bash!"

A whirlwind of energy crashes into our group.

Emily, I'd remember her anywhere. She has a mischievous glint in her eye that immediately makes me understand why Charlie was so wary of her scheming.

She gives me an exaggerated once-over before pulling me into a hug.

"My sister has been so secretive about you. "

Over Emily's shoulder, I catch Charlie's warning look, but Emily just winks at me. She knows exactly what she's doing.

"Don't scare him off before we even board, Em," Charlie mutters.

"Oh, please. If your stories about him are true, he doesn't scare easily." Emily steps back, examining me. "Though you didn't mention the whole 'walks straight out of a snowboarding magazine' vibe."

Margaret chuckles. "Emily, let the poor man breathe."

"I don't mind," I say, grinning at Charlie. "I'm just glad to hear she talks about me."

Charlie narrows her eyes, and I can practically hear her thinking, don’t push it.

"Not all good things," she says lightly.

"Oh hush." Margaret laughs, linking her arm through mine as we walk toward the check-in counter. "Sebastian, tell me, have you ever been to Aspen before?"

"Call me Bash, please. And yes, ma'am. I grew up in Colorado, actually. I used to compete there sometimes when I was snowboarding professionally."

"Professional snowboarder, huh?" Richard's interest perks up visibly. "Yes, Emily did mention that at dinner the other night. Although I would think Charlotte would have told us."

Charlie looks slightly panicked. We hadn't gone over my entire athletic history during dinner. "It didn't come up before," she says.

"There's a lot to learn about your boyfriend, Charlotte," Margaret says with a knowing smile. "Though I imagine you two have been too busy with other things to discuss winter sports."

"Mom!" Charlie and Emily say in unison.

I laugh, easing the tension. "I'll bore you all with snowboarding stories around the fire pit. Promise."

We reach the check-in counter, and the agent greets us with a professional smile. "Good morning. Boarding passes and I.D. please."

While Richard handles the check-in process, I study our boarding passes.

"Excuse me," I ask the agent. "I was wondering if there are any more first class seats available on this flight?"

The agent types something into her computer, then shakes her head. "No, I'm sorry, sir. First class is completely full."

I nod, then say, "In that case, would it be possible to give my first class seat to Emily Whitaker here? I'll take her coach seat instead."

Four pairs of Whitaker eyes turn to stare at me in shock.

"You... what?" Charlie whispers.

Emily's mouth hangs open. "Are you serious?"

"Of course." I shrug like it's no big deal. "Charlie and I should sit together, and this way, Emily, you can enjoy first class."

The agent looks between us. "That's an unusual request, but we can certainly process that change if everyone agrees. Miss?" She directs this to Emily. "Are you okay with this arrangement?"

"Hell yeah—I mean, yes, absolutely!" Emily practically bounces with excitement. She throws her arms around me in a spontaneous hug. "You're the best! Charlie, your boyfriend is the best!"

I catch Charlie's gaze over Emily's shoulder. She's looking at me with an expression I can't quite decode—surprise mixed with something softer, warmer.

The agent efficiently processes the switch, handing me Emily's middle-seat boarding pass while Emily clutches her first class ticket like it’s Willy Wonka's last golden ticket.

"Sebastian," Margaret says, touching my arm. "That was incredibly thoughtful of you."

Richard nods in agreement. "Not many people would give up a first class seat."

"It's nothing," I say, though the approval in their eyes feels surprisingly good. "It's a short flight, and I'd rather sit with Charlie anyway."

Charlie doesn't say anything, but as we check in our bags, she slips her hand into mine threading our fingers and squeezes gently.

"You didn't have to do that," she murmurs.

"I know." I give her a wink.

"We should head to security," Margaret says, checking her watch. "The lines are getting longer."

As we walk to get in line, Charlie and I head towards the coach line and her parents and Emily on the priority side, Emily sidles up beside us. "Nice move with the seat switch," she whispers, just loud enough for Charlie and me to hear. "Very boyfriend-y."

"I try," I murmur back.

"They're totally buying it," Emily says with a wink. "But fair warning—Dad will grill you over dinner tonight."

"I'll be ready."

Charlie exhales slowly beside me, and I give her hand a gentle squeeze. "You okay, Shortcake?" I ask quietly.

She looks up at me, uncertainty flickering across her face. "Yeah. Just... thanks. For doing this."

"Hey." I lower myself and brush my lips against her ear. "We're in this together now. I've got you."

For just a moment, her guard drops, and I see something vulnerable in her eyes—something that makes my chest tighten. Then Emily calls her name, and the moment breaks.

"Come on, lovebirds!" She shouts. "Colorado awaits!"

Charlie rolls her eyes, but there's a small smile on her lips as we follow her family toward security, my hand still holding hers.

"Just... be yourself," I add, surprising myself with the sincerity. "But maybe the version of yourself that doesn't hate me quite so much."

"I don't hate you," she says quietly.

It's not much, but it feels like a victory all the same.