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“The problem with Charlie,” she said, “is that he’s too charming, and he knows it. He knows he can have any girl in the grade—”
“Not me,” I interjected, balancing my drink on my knee.
“—so he sails through life like a typical trust-fund baby.”
“Charlie has a trust fund? I didn’t know that.”
“But what that means, sadly, is that he has no depth. He’s never had to work for anything in his life.”
“I wish I didn’t have to work for anything,” I said wistfully. “I wish I had a trust fund.”
“No, you don’t,” Dorrie said. “Are you even listening?” She took my drink, and I made a sound of protest.
“Take Jeb, for instance,” Dorrie said. “Jeb is going to grow up to be the kind of man who spends his Saturdays teaching his little boy to ride a bike.”
“Or little girl,” I said. “Or twins! Maybe we’ll have twins!”
“Charlie, on the other hand, will be off playing golf while his kid kills people on his Xbox. Charlie will be dashing and debonair, and he’ll buy his kid all kinds of crap, but he’ll never actually be there.”
“That is so sad,” I said. I reclaimed my drink and took a long sip. “Does that mean his kid will never learn to ride a bike?”
“Not unless Jeb goes over and teaches him,” Dorrie said.
We sat. For several minutes, we watched the guys play pool. Charlie’s ball hit its mark, and Charlie pulled his fist in by his side.
“That’s what I’m talking about!” he crowed. “Ice, baby!”
Jeb looked across the room at me, and his lips twitched. I felt warm and happy, because the message in his eyes was, You’re mine and I’m yours. And thank you for not using expressions like “Ice, baby.”
A twitch of the lips and a loving look . . . what I wouldn’t give to have that back. Instead, I threw it all away for the guy who was rumbling into the parking lot this very second in his ridiculous gray Hummer.
He pulled up short, spraying me with snow.
“Hey,” he said, powering down the window. He jerked his chin at my hair and grinned. “Look at you, Pink!”
“Stop smiling at me,” I warned him. “Don’t even look at me.” I trudged to the passenger side and heaved myself in, straining my quads. I felt like I was climbing into a tank, which, basically, I was.
“Did you bring the phone book?”
He flicked it with his finger, and I saw that it was resting on the seat beside me. I found the residential section and flipped to the Bs. Baker, Barnsfeld, Belmont . . .
“I’m glad you called,” Charlie said. “I’ve missed you.”
“Shut up,” I said. “And no, you haven’t.”
“You’re being awfully mean toward someone who’s giving you a ride,” he said. I rolled my eyes. “Seriously, Adds. Ever since you broke up with Jeb—and I’m sorry about that, by the way—I’ve been hoping we could, you know, give it a go.”
“That’s not going to happen, and seriously, shut up.”
“Why?”
I ignored him. Bichener, Biggers, Bilson . . .
“Addie,” Charlie said. “I dropped everything to come pick you up. Think you could at least talk to me?”
“I’m sorry, but no.”
“Why?”
“Because you’re an asshat.”
He guffawed. “Since when have you been hanging out with JP Kim?” He shut the phone book, and I just barely managed to keep my finger in it to mark my place.
“Hey!” I said.
“Seriously, why don’t you want to go out with me?” he asked.
I lifted my head and glared. Surely he knew how much I regretted our kiss, and how much I hated just being here in this ridiculous Hummer with him. But as I took in his expression, I faltered. Was that . . . ? Oh good grief. Was that plaintiveness in those green eyes?
“I like you, Addie, and you know why? ’Cause you’re zesty.” He said “zesty” with the same intentional cheesiness as when he’d said “venti.”
“Don’t call me zesty,” I said. “I am not zesty.”
“You’re zesty, all right. And you’re a good kisser.”
“That was a mistake. That was me being drunk and stupid.” My throat closed, and I had to gaze out the window until I pulled myself together. I turned back and attempted to divert the conversation. “Anyway, what happened to Brenna?”
“Brenna,” he mused. He leaned back against the headrest. “Brenna, Brenna, Brenna.”
“You’re still into her, aren’t you?”
He shrugged. “She seems to be . . . involved with someone else, as I’m sure you know. At least, that’s what she tells me. I, myself, can’t see it.” He swiveled his head. “If you had the choice, would you pick Jeb over me?”
“In a heartbeat,” I said.
“Ouch,” he said. He gazed at me, and beneath his posturing, I saw that plaintiveness again. “Once, Brenna would have picked me. But I was a cad.”
“Um, yeah,” I said glumly. “I was there. I was an even bigger cad.”
“Which is why we’d be great together. We might as well make lemonade, right?”
“Huh?”
“Out of our lemons,” he explained. “Which is us. We’re the lemons.”
“Yeah, I got the reference. I just . . . ” I didn’t finish my sentence. If I had, it would have gone something like, “I just didn’t know you saw yourself that way. As a lemon.”
He snapped out of it. “So what do you say, Pink? Trixie’s having a rocking New Year’s Eve party. Want to go?”
I shook my head. “No.”
He put his hand on my thigh. “I know you’re having a rough time. Let me comfort you.”
I pushed him off. “Charlie, I’m in love with Jeb.”
“That didn’t stop you before. Anyway, Jeb dumped you.”
I was silent, because everything he said was true. Except, I wasn’t that girl anymore. I refused to be.
“Charlie . . . I can’t go out with you if I’m in love with someone else,” I finally said. “Even if he no longer wants me.”
“Whoa,” he said, drawing his hand to his heart. “Now that’s rejection.” He laughed, and just like that, he was back to being obnoxious Charlie. “What about Tegan? She’s hot. Think she’d go to Trixie’s party with me?”
