Chapter 31
Chapter thirty-one
Bash
I stand at the bathroom sink next to Charlie, both of us working through our nighttime routines.
There's something deeply intimate about watching her brush her teeth in my old Colorado State t-shirt that hangs halfway down her thighs.
Her hair's pulled up in a messy bun, face scrubbed clean of makeup, and she's never looked more beautiful.
My phone buzzes on the counter. Tyler's name flashes on the screen, and before I can reach for it, Charlie grabs it.
"Hello, Tyler," she says, putting it on speaker. "Sebastian is currently occupied with dental hygiene and I don't believe we've been properly introduced."
"Well hello, Ms. Whitaker," Tyler's voice booms through the speaker. "Has my best friend been on his best behavior? Or do I need to apologize for the ten years I've spent enabling him?"
Charlie laughs, the sound bouncing off the tile walls. "I'm still deciding. The drone with mistletoe was pretty impressive, though."
"Drone with mistletoe?" Tyler sounds delighted. "Montgomery, you romantic bastard. Did you steal that idea from our college prank playbook?"
I spit into the sink and rinse my mouth. "Modified it. The original involved dangling mistletoe from a fishing rod, if you remember."
"Over Professor Linderman's head at the holiday faculty party," Tyler cackles. "Nearly got us expelled."
Charlie raises her eyebrows. "I'm learning so much about you."
"Don't believe everything he says," I tell her, taking the phone. "Half his stories are highly embellished."
"Only the boring half," Tyler counters. "So… how's the fake relationship going? Convincing anyone?"
Charlie and I exchange a look. We haven't exactly told Tyler that things have shifted between us.
"It's going well," I say carefully. "Charlie's ex is thoroughly annoyed."
"And how's the food?" Tyler asks, changing subjects with his usual randomness. "Rich people Christmas is different from our normal festivities, right? Tell me they served something ridiculous like truffle-infused candy canes."
Charlie laughs. "Sorry to disappoint, but my mom makes pretty standard holiday food. Though there was an impressive cheese board one night."
"How's Ethan handling the Bash Effect?" Tyler asks. "Is he visibly jealous or just quietly seething?"
"Both," Charlie says, wiping her face with a washcloth. "He keeps trying to one-up Bash in the most pathetic ways. Yesterday he tried to brag about his golf handicap."
"Classic finance bro move," Tyler snorts. "What's on the agenda for tomorrow?"
Charlie perches on the edge of the counter. "We're having dinner at the Harpers' house."
"Wait," Tyler says, audibly perking up. "You're going to Ethan's house? Oh, this is too good."
"It's not Ethan's house," Charlie clarifies. "It's his parents'. They're lovely people who've known my family forever."
"Still," Tyler says. "Enemy territory. You need a strategy."
I lean against the doorframe. "What kind of strategy?"
"To drive the perfect couple absolutely insane without seeming like you're trying," Tyler says, as if it's obvious. "Subtle psychological warfare."
Charlie rolls her eyes, but she's smiling. "We're not going to sabotage a family dinner."
"Not sabotage," Tyler corrects. "Just... strategically remind everyone who the superior couple is. Look disgustingly happy. Touch each other's lower backs. Finish each other's sentences. Use inside jokes."
"We already do that," I say without thinking.
There's a pause, and I can practically hear Tyler's eyebrows raising through the phone.
"Do you now?" he says, voice dripping with implications. "Interesting."
Charlie blushes and slides off the counter. "I'm going to let you boys talk. Nice chatting with you, Tyler."
"Same here, Charlie," Tyler replies. "And if you get tired of this one, I'm available and know all his embarrassing secrets."
"I'll keep that in mind," she says, squeezing past me in the doorway. Her body brushes against mine, and even that casual contact sends electricity through me.
Once she's gone, Tyler whistles low. "Damn, Montgomery."
"What?" I move into the bedroom, keeping my voice down.
"You're so far gone it's not even funny anymore," he says. "You sound like a real couple."
"That's the point," I mutter, watching Charlie turn down the bed.
"No, the point was to make her ex jealous. This is... something else."
I sigh, running a hand through my hair. "I know."
"Have you told her?"
"Told her what?"
"That you're falling in love with her, you idiot."
The words hit me like a physical blow.
"Look," I lower my voice even more, moving into the bathroom and shutting the door. "We talked. In the woods. I told her I want this—us—to be real."
"And?" Tyler presses.
"And she's scared. Because of what happened before. With Ethan cheating on her." I lean against the sink. "We're taking it slow. One day at a time."
"Slow? In the same bed? Good luck with that, buddy."
I can't help but smile, remembering last night. "It's complicated."
"It's only complicated because you're making it complicated.
" Tyler's voice softens. "Bash, I've known you since we were idiot freshmen in high school.
I've seen you with dozens of women. You've never once brought any of them to meet Sarah.
You've never looked at anyone the way Emily says you look at Charlie. "
My chest tightens. "Emily said that?"
"She texted me earlier. We've been comparing notes." He pauses. "Everyone sees it except maybe you two."
"I see it," I admit quietly. "I just don't want to scare her off."
"Sometimes the scary things are worth it," Tyler says.
"Anyway, I'm serious about tomorrow. Look happy.
Be happy. It's the best revenge." He finishes and then adds, "Listen, I should let you go.
You've got better company. Just don't waste this, okay?
And call me with details about dinner at the Harpers' tomorrow.
I want to hear how Ethan's eye twitches when you call her 'Shortcake. '"
I laugh despite myself. "Will do."
"Night, man."
"Night."
I hang up and head into the bedroom and put my phone on my charger on the nightstand. Charlie's leaning against the dresser, still wearing my shirt.
"Everything okay?" she asks.
"Yeah," I say, as I sit on the edge of the bed. "Just Tyler being Tyler."
"I like him," she says, smiling. "He cares about you."
"He does," I agree. "Even when he's being a pain in the ass."
She shifts slightly, the movement causing the shirt to ride up her thighs. "I meant to ask—does it bother you that I keep stealing your clothes?"
I reach out and place my hand on her hip, my thumbs brushing the soft skin exposed between the hem of the shirt and the top of her underwear. "Not even a little bit."
"No?" She tilts her head, a teasing gleam in her eyes.
"I like seeing you in my things," I admit, slowly pulling her toward me. "It does something to me."
"What kind of something?" she murmurs, her voice dropping.
I lean forward, brushing my lips against hers. "The kind that makes me want to see you out of them, too."
She shivers slightly, and I feel her hands slide up my arms to my shoulders. Her lips part, and I deepen the kiss, taking my time, savoring the minty taste of her mouth and the soft sounds she makes.
When I pull back, her eyes are heavy-lidded. She thinks she knows where this is going—and normally, she'd be right. But tonight, I have other ideas.
"Can I ask you something?" I say, my hands still on her hips.
"Anything," she breathes, clearly distracted.
"Are you ticklish?"
Her eyes widen a split second before I launch my attack. My fingers find her ribs, and she explodes into laughter, squirming and thrashing.
"Sebastian!" she squeals, trying to escape. "Don't you dare!"
But I do dare, digging my fingers into all her sensitive spots, sending her into hysterics. She falls onto the bed and writhes, thrashing back and forth, gasping for breath between laughs.
"Stop!" she begs, tears of laughter streaming down her face. "I can't breathe!"
"Magic word?" I tease, easing up just enough to let her catch her breath.
"Please!" she gasps.
"That's not it."
"Mercy!"
I shake my head, grinning. "Try again."
She narrows her eyes, then lunges forward suddenly, tackling me backward onto the bed and straddling me. "How about this—stop tickling me, or I'll make you regret it."
I raise an eyebrow, enjoying the weight of her on top of me. "That sounds promising."
She leans down, her face inches from mine. "You're impossible."
"Part of my charm."
Her expression softens, and she touches my face. "It actually is."
I reach up, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. "I'm sorry I interrupted what was becoming a very interesting moment."
"No, you're not."
"You're right, I'm not," I laugh.
I grab her sides again, catching her off guard, and she collapses against me in a fit of giggles.
"You—absolute—monster!" she gasps between laughs, squirming on top of me.
Her body writhes against mine in the most distracting way possible. I roll us over, pinning her beneath me, fingers still finding every ticklish spot until she's breathless and begging.
"Fine! Uncle! Whatever the magic word is!"
I stop, hovering above her, both of us breathing hard. Her hair fans across the pillow, cheeks flushed, eyes bright with laughter and something deeper. Could she be feeling what I’m feeling?
"The magic word," I murmur, lowering my lips to hers, "was Shortcake."