Chapter 18 #2
Charlie and I settle into silence, watching snowflakes drift lazily past the window, landing on the already white landscape. The moment stretches, comfortable and unhurried.
Our phones vibrate against the wooden table almost in unison. We reach for them, fingers brushing.
"Tyler," I murmur, eyeing my notification.
"Lily," Charlie says simultaneously.
Our eyes meet, and laughter bubbles between us.
"Let me guess," I say, cocking an eyebrow. "Checking in to see if we've killed each other yet?"
"Close." Charlie shows me her screen.
Still alive? How's the fake boyfriend working out?
Send photo evidence!!!!
Lily
I turn my phone so she can see Tyler's messages.
Have you fallen on your face yet?
Or are you ready to admit that you've fallen for her already?
Asking for science.
Ty
I twist my mouth to the side, eyeing our messages. "Our friends have so little faith in us."
"Should we give them what they want?" Charlie's eyes sparkle with mischief as she leans across the table. "Selfie time. Proof of survival."
I stretch my arm out, phone in hand. Charlie nestles against me, her cheek pressing into mine. The lingering chill from outdoors still clings to her skin, but it warms rapidly against mine. Strawberries and mountain snow mingle in my nostrils with each breath.
"Smile," I say, though we're already beaming.
After the click, we huddle over the screen, our foreheads nearly touching. The photo catches us in a moment of genuine connection—her smile reaching her eyes, while I've been caught mid-smile, my gaze fixed on her instead of the camera.
"That's actually... really good," she whispers, something vulnerable in her voice.
"Yeah," I murmur, feeling the air between us change. "It is."
Frank's return breaks our bubble. "So, what's next for you two lovebirds? Back to the slopes or calling it a day?"
I cock an eyebrow at Charlie, waiting.
"One more run?" She squares her shoulders with determination. "I want to see if I can repeat that last one without falling."
"That's the spirit, kid!" Frank slaps the table approvingly. "Always get back on the horse."
"Or in this case, the board," I add with a wink.
As we say goodbye to Frank and gather our gear to head back out, Charlie's fingers brush against my sleeve, lingering for a moment.
"Thanks for this morning. For being patient with me."
"Any time, Shortcake," I say, my voice softening. "Teaching you is actually the most fun I've had on the mountain in a long time."
The words settle between us, genuine and unplanned.
Watching her wobble then steady herself, her face lighting up with each small victory—it takes me back to my first runs.
Back when snowboarding wasn't about sponsorship logos or competition rankings, but about that weightless moment when you carve through fresh powder, your heart hammering against your ribs, the world reduced to nothing but wind and momentum.
Outside, the mountain air slaps our faces as Charlie strides ahead. Her shoulders squared beneath her gear, she navigates the packed snow with surprising grace—a natural resilience in every step despite her tumbles earlier. She glances back, catching me mid-stare, her eyebrow arching.
"Coming, Montgomery? Or are you afraid I might show you up this time?"
A laugh escapes me as I quicken my pace. "In your dreams, Shortcake. In your dreams."
Her pink jacket blazes against the endless white as she marches toward the rental rack, determination in every step.
And something twists in my chest—because in my dreams, she's exactly like this: fierce, funny, unapologetically herself.
This charade between us might be the most honest thing I've felt in years.
I can hear the fire crackling in the stone hearth in the living room as Charlie lays out the deck of UNO cards on the wooden table.
After a day on the slopes—Charlie progressing from face-plants to actual snowboarding, both of us wind-whipped and exhilarated—we've showered and changed into comfortable clothes for a quiet evening in.
"UNO?" I ask, raising an eyebrow as she shuffles the cards with surprising dexterity. "Didn't peg you as a card shark, Shortcake."
Charlie's mouth quirks into that half-smile that always feels like a private joke between us. "There's a lot you don't know about me, Montgomery."
"Sounds like a challenge." I settle into the chair beside her, close enough that our elbows brush. She doesn't pull away.
Emily bounces into the kitchen, still flushed from her own day of skiing. "Oh my God, are we playing UNO? I'm in!"
"UNO?" Margaret pokes her head around the corner. "Remember how much fun you kids had last year?"
Charlie's eyes widen with alarm. "Mom, we're just—"
"The Harpers should join you!" Margaret continues, already disappearing back into the hallway. "I'll go fetch them from the family room!"
Charlie drops her head into her hands with a groan. "Why does this always happen?"
I lean closer, lowering my voice. "What's wrong?"
"Nothing," she mutters through her fingers. "Except that Ethan turns into a complete asshole when playing games."
"Well then," I say, reaching to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear, enjoying the blush that rises on her cheeks, "this should be interesting."
Within minutes, Ethan and Olivia have joined us around the kitchen table. The seating arrangement falls naturally—me, Charlie, Emily, Olivia, and Ethan completing the circle. As Charlie deals seven cards to each of us, I study our opponents across the table.
Ethan's wearing an expensive-looking sweater, his hair perfectly styled despite supposedly having spent the day skiing.
He organizes his cards with practiced precision, arranging them in some specific order.
Beside him, Olivia scrolls through her phone, barely glancing at her cards when Charlie slides them over.
"You know how to play, right?" Emily asks Olivia.
Olivia looks up, blinking as if surprised to be addressed. "I've never really been into card games. They seem so... juvenile."
"It's pretty simple," Charlie says with forced cheerfulness. "Match colors or numbers, special cards change the flow, first one to get rid of all their cards wins."
"I'll help you," Ethan says to Olivia, his tone holding a hint of impatience as he pulls her cards toward him to organize them.
Charlie flips the first card from the deck—a blue seven—and the game begins.
The first few rounds pass pleasantly enough.
Emily tells us about her adventures on the black diamond runs, Charlie plays cautiously, and I follow suit, getting a feel for everyone's playing style.
Olivia sighs dramatically whenever it's her turn, while Ethan studies his cards with intense concentration, as if solving a complex equation.
"Blue four," Emily says, tossing down her card.
"Blue... two," Olivia drawls, clearly bored.
"Change to red," Ethan declares, slapping down a red two with unnecessary force. He glances at Charlie with a smirk. "Remember our game night phase, Char? You used to get so worked up."
Charlie stiffens beside me. "Your turn, Sebastian."
I lay down a red six. "You're turn, Shortcake." I glance over at her.
Charlie's lips twitch. She places a red reverse, sending the play back to me.
"Well played," I murmur, dropping a red seven.
Ethan narrows his eyes, and something clicks for me. This isn't just a casual game for him.
Ethan plays a red draw two, and Olivia groans as she picks up cards.
"It's just a game, Liv," Ethan says sharply.
"A boring one," she mutters, checking her manicure.
Twenty minutes in, the game has taken a turn. Ethan's competitive nature has emerged full force, his playful trash talk edging into something meaner.
"Come on, Em, that's the third dumb move you've made," he says when Emily plays a card that benefits Charlie. "Use your brain."
Emily's face falls slightly, though she covers it with a laugh. "Sorry, not all of us treat UNO like the Olympics."
"Some of us just play to have fun," Charlie adds pointedly.
Ethan scoffs. "What's fun about losing? Seriously, Em, if you're not going to play properly—"
"My turn," I interrupt, surveying my cards. I have a wild draw four and with that I lock eyes with Ethan and place it on the growing pile. "Draw four, buddy. I'm changing to yellow."
His jaw tightens as he picks up four cards. "Lucky play."
"Totally," I agree with an easy smile that I know doesn't reach my eyes.
Three rounds later, I've managed to hit Ethan with a blue draw two after Charlie places a yellow draw two down for me. It's deliberate—I've been holding cards back specifically to target him.
"Tough break," I say with mock sympathy.
Charlie notices what I'm doing. I catch her watching me and I wink.
Under the table, her foot nudges mine—a silent acknowledgment of what I'm doing.
"Are you kidding me?" Ethan growls, snatching four more cards from the pile. "This is ridiculous."
"Just the luck of the draw," Charlie says innocently, but I catch the mischievous glint in her eye.
Emily starts giggling, catching on to our strategy. She gives me a quick thumbs up.
"This is so childish," Olivia sighs, barely glancing at her cards as she plays whatever's on top. Her lips are pursed in that way that suggests she's bored.
"Then why are you even playing?" Ethan snaps at her, his tone sharp enough to make everyone at the table flinch up.
She blinks, looking hurt, her perfectly manicured fingers freezing over her cards. "Because you wanted to."
"Well, if you're not going to try, you might as well leave." The words hang in the air..
An uncomfortable silence falls over the table.
Olivia's cheeks turn red, the color spreading down her neck, and she drops her cards face-down with a soft thud.
"Fine. I have emails to answer anyway." She pushes away from the table, the chair legs scraping loudly against the floor, and stalks out of the kitchen, her shoulders rigid.