15. CHARLOTTE
15
T he small sliver of orange and pink still paints the sky when I slide out of Dylan’s midnight blue SUV. Brisk air cools my skin as I wait for him to round the car.
He’s been the perfect gentleman so far. He picked me up at my house, quickly introduced himself to my mother, and held the car door open for me. So far, it’s going well.
Casually, he finds my fingers, linking them with his when we walk into the Call’s Bowling Alley, then flashes me his teeth. I decide to just roll with it. I’m not the girl who is really affectionate on a first date, but he keeps looking at me like I’m amazing, and to be honest, I like him. I think there’s some real possibilities here if I actually open myself up to him.
Call’s fried chicken wings lingers through the open space as we enter, accompanied by the sound of bowling pins clashing against the floor.
I look into the mirror behind the bar, while we stroll past it over the burgundy red carpet, checking if my black skater dress is still keeping everything in place. He leads us to the desk to inform them of our arrival, and we walk toward the lane reserved for us.
“Are you a good bowler?” Dylan looks at me with his silvery blue eyes, his shaggy blonde hair flopping in front of his forehead in a cute way, his hand still attached to mine .
“Well, like any amateur bowler, that depends on the day. But I seem to do better with a bit of alcohol running through my veins,” I joke, letting go of his hand to trade my white Converse for those hideous bowling shoes you have to wear. I threw a strike three times in my life, and it was the night of my sixteenth birthday. My mother had secretly been slipping me some wine after dinner at Rogue Ribs, my favorite restaurant in town, right before we went bowling. I was on a light buzz and turned into a pro-bowler, throwing three strikes, followed by a set of spares. Then my mother slipped me some more wine and Bowling Betty turned into Giddy Greta. Turns out my tolerance for alcohol wasn’t very high.
Still isn’t.
“Ah! Well then, it’s a good thing I know the bartender.”
“You do?” I look up from my shoes, meeting his sparkling eyes with surprise.
“Yeah, that’s my brother.” He nods his head toward the guy behind the bar, and he gives us a short wave.
“That’s your brother?” I cock my eyebrow incredulously, hardly believing it when I look at the black-haired goth who looks nothing like him.
“Yeah. Same dad. Another mother.”
“Oh, that makes sense.”
“How about I get us something to drink, and you set up the lane?”
“Sure.”
“What do you want?” His eyes are beaming at me, his lips forming a grin on his handsome face, and I smile in response.
He’s cute.
Cute enough to not be against it if he’d try to kiss me tonight, though the thought alone makes me break out in a sweat.
“Anything with rum is good. ”
“You got it.” He heads over to the bar, and I go to the computer to put in our names. When he gets back, handing me a rum and Coke, and I take a sip to calm my nerves. He’s up first, so he grabs one of the balls out of the return and throws it down the lane in a perfect line.
Strike.
I take a few gulps from my drink, incredulously shaking my head, looking at him with wide eyes.
“What?” I blink, unable to hide my shock. “What are you, a pro? You’re intimidating me with your bowling skills.” I lift my brow to match my flirty tone, and he huffs a laugh in response.
“You can do this.” He grabs my drink out of my hands, putting it back up on the table, getting awfully close. His warm breath flies over my face while he rubs my upper arms, and I swallow hard before my lips part. “Don’t worry, we’re just having fun.”
“Right.” Breaking our connection, I move toward the return to grab a ball. I awkwardly feel the weight of a few of them, making sure I don’t pick one that I can hardly carry, and I settle for a nice pink one that perfectly fits my hand.
Without looking back, I take a deep breath, then I throw the ball onto the lane in a perfect line, surprising myself. I wait anxiously as it rolls with a modest velocity until the ball crashes into the pins, knocking all of them out.
No shit.
“Yes! I did it!” I turn around, throwing my hands in the air. My eyes collide with Dylan’s, who’s grinning from ear to ear, clapping his hands, until my eye catches someone approaching behind him.
You have got to be kidding me.
With one of his boyish, yet devastating grins, Hunter walks up behind Dylan .
“Oh yeah, Charls definitely knows how to play with balls.” Hunter’s gaze quickly finds my glare, hoping he can take a hint, but all I get is a fucking wink.
Asshole.
Dylan rears his head over his shoulder with his brows knitted together until he’s met by the smug grin on Hunter’s face.
“Hunter,” Dylan grates out, barely being able to muster out a curl of his lips.
“What a coincidence!” Hunter beams as if he’s completely oblivious to the tension becoming more palpable by the second. “I didn’t know the two of you went bowling.”
A girl with long brown hair moves to his side, and he throws his arm around her shoulder. She gives me a sweet smile that doesn’t meet her big blue eyes, and I mirror it with one of my own, because my mother raised me well, then snap my narrowing eyes back to my best friend.
I can’t believe he’s here.
“Kylie and I were going to play a game ourselves.”
“Oh my god! We should totally double!” Kylie claps next to him like a seal.
I put my hands against my sides, shooting daggers as Dylan moves his head back and forth between Hunter and me in question. My date seems conflicted, like he’s not sure if he should tell Hunter to fuck off or be a good sport and show he’s not intimidated by my best friend.
“I’m cool with that, if you are?” He shoots me a questioning look, and I give him a tight smile that I can barely hold up. Of course I’m not fucking cool with that! How the hell am I ever going to stick to my plan if the whole reason I have a plan in the first place makes it his fucking mission to distract me every ten seconds .
“Sure, just give me one second.” I strut past him, a fake smile curling the corner of my mouth, pushing Hunter away from Kayleigh—or whatever her name is.
“I’ll be right back, sweetheart,” he bellows over my head as I push him backwards until we’re in the back of the venue.
“What the fuck are you doing here, Hunter?” My blood boils through my veins like lava, because I know I will get a bullshit answer.
“What? Kylie wanted to go bowling.”
See? Bullshit.
“ Kylie wanted to go bowling.” Each word falls from my tongue with more indignation, and I’m really tempted to put my hands around his neck and strangle him. Remind me why he’s my friend again?
“Yeah,” he dares, enjoying this way too much. “Why? Is there a problem, Charls?”
“You! You are the problem. You’re an asshole, and you know it. You’re fucking hijacking my date, Hunter. Why? Why can’t you just–” I cut off my words, pulling my hair. I wish we were the kind of friends who could go on double dates. And maybe one day we might be, but right now, I need him to back the fuck off so I can actually convince my heart that friends is all we are. I need to find out if I can feel something for anyone else, before my heart crushes in the hands of Hunter Hansen.
“You don’t see me crashing your fucking dates,” I add.
He moves a little closer, our heads almost touching. He smells fresh, manly, and as intoxicating as ever.
“You can crash my dates anytime, babe. Best friend privilege and all.”
My heart skips a beat, feeling him overwhelming me with his energy, hating the effect he has on me. There are moments when we’re best friends and nothing more, when we can just lie next to each other and talk, feeling completely comfortable with one another.
And then there are moments like this, when he gets in my face, flirting with me and messing with my head. I hate those moments because I can’t control them, but I would be a liar if I didn’t say I also live for them.
Friends.
It feels the same way when I told my eleven-year-old-self my mother would never get sick ever again. Lies. All fucking lies.
I roughly push him away from me, pointing my finger into his chest.
“Don’t fuck this up for me, Hunt.” A growl escapes my lips, walking back to Kylie and Dylan with a sweet, yet fake as fuck, smile on my face.
One hour of bowling. I can get through one hour of bowling at the double date from hell.
“Never, Charls,” I hear him retort behind, and I reply by lifting my hand to flip him off.
Motherfucking asshole.
As much as I need to get over the zoo he manages to ignite in my belly every time I’m the object of his attention, I also love it about him. It’s part of his personality, and most of the time, it makes me feel special. That I mean more to him than all those other girls he messes around with. Like he puts me first. But I didn’t fully understand how possessive he was going to be until he just crashed my date.
“Okay, who’s up?” Hunter rubs his hands together with an excited look on his face, wiggling his eyebrows.
“We can just add you to our game and we can play together,” Dylan suggests.
I mumble something in agreement while Hunter and Kylie take the bench opposite me, and she snuggles into his side. My jaw ticks in annoyance, the whole sight making me gag .
This was not what I was expecting when I said yes to going on a date tonight. I wanted to get to know Dylan, see if there is any potential, see if there could be enough to shove whatever feeling I have for Hunter in a box. But my best friend seems determined to keep me single for no fucking reason other than his own enjoyment.
“Alright, Hansen. You’re up,” Dylan says.
Hunter gets up with a small jump, like the idiot he is, grabbing a ball and throwing it down the lane in a perfect strike.
I hate him.
Thirty minutes later, the boys are having a match of their own, both not willing to lose to the other, while Kylie and I just throw without giving a shit.
I sink my teeth into another chicken nugget, my mouth no longer able to form a placating smile.
I wish I was reading at the creek instead of watching this macho match. They both have 200 points when there is one final round, and I’m ready to go home. Every single round, the date has gotten worse and worse, because those two dickheads seem to think their lives depend on this one game of bowling.
I don’t even know if it’s still a date anymore. The comments between the boys have gotten snarkier the more rounds that’ve passed. Dylan has barely shown me any attention for the last fifteen minutes, and Kylie keeps playing on her phone.
Yeah, this was exactly what I imagined my night to be.
“Alright, Dylan Dickhead . Your turn, so make it count.” Hunter gives him another challenging look, shooting me a wink, and I avert my gaze.
I can’t even look at him right now. I’m so angry. He’s probably going to tell me later how he means well, but the reality is, he took over my date without thinking about how I’d feel about it. He turned it into a pissing match, just like I expected he would .
“Shut up, Hansen. I’ll show you something.” Dylan lifts the ball to take a small run-up before throwing it down the lane. With the amount of passion he puts into the action, you’d expect them to have some kind of wager and price at the end of the night. If there was a possibility that I could fall for Dylan, it has been shot to hell.
Bored, we all wait patiently until the ball knocks over eight pins.
“Aaah, almost, pretty boy,” Hunter mocks, resulting in a glare from Dylan.
He throws again to knock over the last ones, but the ball misses the pins, and moves to the gutter. I look up to the ceiling, knowing exactly how this is going to end, as Dylan takes a seat next to me with a sulking look on his face.
I swear all boys are dicks.
Hunter grabs the blue ball that he’s been calling his “lucky ball,” before he takes a run-up, throwing the ball in a perfect line down the lane.
I close my eyes, thanking the universe that the night is finally over, because anyone can figure out he’s going to knock them all over. When he does, Hunter lets out a feral roar like he’s some kind of neanderthal. Granted, he probably is. I get up to put my Converse back on with a burning desire to get the hell out of here as fast as possible.
“That’s how you do it!” Hunter shouts through the entire alley, making me roll my eyes once more.
“Congrats, Hansen,” Dylan pushes out of his mouth with gritted teeth, then puts his focus on me while putting his Nikes back on. “You want to go and get some ice cream?”
I take that back; all boys are stupid.
My brows move to my forehead when I shoot him an incredulous look.
“Are you serious?” I don’t even attempt to hide my anger .
“I’m guessing that’s a no?” Dylan smiles awkwardly, as Hunter watches us carefully from the other bench.
“Yeah, that’s a no. Maybe Hunter wants to get some ice cream. He’s been getting your full attention the entire time. Why stop now?” I tie my shoes roughly, getting up, giving Kylie a polite smile.
“Have a nice evening, Kylie.”
I ignore both of the boys, pick up my vest, then stomp off like fire is on my heels.
My anger reaches a peak when Hunter bellows my name behind me, like the little stalker that he seems to be.
“Shut up!” I turn around while my finger moves between both boys. “You’re a dick for showing up here, and you are a dick for playing right into his tactics. You were on a date with me , but you decided that comparing dicks with Hunter was more important.”
Dylan’s shoulders slump when he realizes his mistake, an expression of regret washing over his face. “I’m sorry! You’re right.” He folds his hands together in a pleading gesture. “Let me make it up to you.”
“I want ice cream. Hunt, will you take me for ice cream?” Kylie says, her girly voice making me ball my hands into fists, reminding myself to never date anyone from our class ever again.
“No.” I shake my head. “Not tonight. I’m out.” I spin, stalking toward the door, but not quick enough to not take notice of Hunter’s cold reply while I walk away.
“No, but I’m sure Dylan here can take you.”
I suck in the cold night when I walk outside, doing my best to shake my anger off when I start my way home. It’s not a long walk, but long enough to regret the fact that I didn’t bring a decent jacket. I wrap my arms around my body, doing my best to keep myself warm while marching into the chilly December night with just a vest .
In my defense, I figured I’d be driven home.
“Charls.” Hunter’s deep voice makes my body shudder from more than just the cold. I keep walking, determined to ignore my best friend for the rest of the night.
“Charls,” he repeats with a little more force this time, but it doesn’t match my mood. I’m livid and he’s the source. He can go fuck himself.
If only he’d have the patience to let me be. Not Hunter. He gets what he wants, when he wants. Myself included. My teeth drag over my lower lip to stop myself from opening my mouth, still hoping he can take my hint of silence and just drop it.
“Charlotte Roux! You’re not walking home by yourself. So, you can get in my truck or I’m following you. Up to you. babe.”
I raise my hands up in desperation, whipping around, fuming.
He stands there, handsome as ever. A strand of his caramel brown hair refuses to be tamed by product, bouncing on his forehead. Thick lashes frame his intense gaze that’s now troubled and filled with regret.
“You were not supposed to be here, Hunter!” I take long strides toward him. “I told you not to fuck it up for me, and what do you do? You completely fuck it up for me!”
He runs a hand through his hair, biting his lip. “I’m sorry, okay.”
“No, you are not!”
“I am!” he howls. A deep frown creases his forehead as he swallows roughly.
“Cut the crap, Hunter. You got what you wanted. I doubt any guy in this town will date me now.”
“I didn’t mean to ruin your date.”
“Yes, you did! That’s the whole fucking point!” Desperation is etched in my voice. “You don’t want to date me, but you can’t stand me dating anyone else! ”
He purses his lips with a guilty grimace, laced with a tiny spark of surprise. Like he’s busted, caught with his hand in the cookie jar.
“What the fuck did you think was going to happen if you sabotaged my date?” I add, incredulous.
For just a tiny moment, I think he’s going to confess what I’ve been waiting for.
What really pushed him to drive to Call’s tonight. But as quickly as I see it below the surface is as quickly it disappears back into the dark pools of his eyes when his stance changes again.
“Oh, come on. If he can’t handle a bit of difficulty from your best friend, he doesn’t deserve you, anyway.” There is a sharp tone in his voice that raises my anger to rage.
“That is not your decision to make, Hunter!” I exclaim. “You’re being ridiculous, and it’s fucking unfair. You don’t see me telling you who you can or can’t date, and trust me, those bimbos won’t make it through my list of approval check points either.”
His eyebrows pop up, a pleased grin showing on his face. He needs to fucking stop doing that.
“Approval check points?”
Oh, dear Lord, I’m going to kill him.
I let out a wail of frustration, showing my teeth as my nostrils flare.
This boy is impossible.
“What are you doing, Hunter? We said friends first!”
Finally, it seems to hit him. For the first time, he seems to be lost for words. I don’t know how long I can keep this up if he’s giving me nothing to work with. If he wants to be my friend, he has to be my fucking friend. If he wants to be more…. well, he better fucking tell me.
“Okay, I’m sorry.” He scrubs his hand over his face with a pained expression. “I am. I swear. I’m sorry. You’re right. I’m an asshole.” His chest slowly moves up and down as he keeps staring at me, waiting for me to say something while I take in his words. When I don’t, he blinks in innocence, trying to break the tension. “I wouldn’t mind you approving my girlfriends, though?”
“Jesus, Hunter!” I can’t believe him. “Friends first, remember? You started that!”
“ I know!”
“Well, friends don’t do that to friends!”
“I know! I know,” he concedes, then quickly reaches out to pull me closer. I let him tug me into his chest, but fold my arms in front of my body to keep myself from wrapping them around his waist while I look up at him. “I’m sorry. You’re right. Friends first.”
“Are we, though?” I ask with uncertainty, not knowing if I want to go down this road, but feeling the need to. “Friends?”
Gold specks swirl through his brown eyes, a glimmer of confusion hitting my heart until he spreads his cheeks in a confident smile. He tightens his grip on my waist, his hands locked on the small of my back. His heat warms me from the cold crisp air, enough to settle the fury.
“Yes, you’re my best friend. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have hijacked your date.” His hand brushes through my hair, and I swallow, keeping my scowl in place.
“You shouldn’t have. ”
“He was a tool, though, wasn’t he?”
“Hunter!” I slap his chest with a reprimanding look as I roll my eyes, trying to muffle the chuckle that wants to escape.
“I’m sorry. Will you forgive me?” He presses his forehead against mine, and I close my eyes at his touch. My mind says no. My heart screams yes.
“You’re not out of the doghouse yet. But yeah, I forgive you, asshole .”
“But I’m your asshole.” He smirks when Dylan and Kylie’s laughter reaches our ears. We both twist our attention at the entrance and watch them walk toward Dylan’s car, arms locked and clearly having fun. I let out an amused laugh, not even pissed about it.
“I guess they’re going for ice cream,” I say.
“I guess so. Come on, let’s go to our spot.”
He wraps his arm around my neck, tucking me against his side, guiding us toward his truck. I push out a breath of surrender when I realize he’s suggesting exactly what I really want to do right now, showing me that he knows me better than anyone.
I’m still pissed.
I really am.
But there is this nagging feeling in the back of my head telling me that even though this night was a complete and utter disaster, there is only one person I truly want to spend my time with.