Not me.
Her words hit their target, doing weird things to my chest. Jaw tight, I turn to the dishes and scrub the sponge against the porcelain surface with more force than necessary.
“Levi?”
“Yeah?” I grit out.
“I love Charlie.”
Tension melting, I chuckle softly. “I love Charlie, too, Mom.”
“Then why haven’t you ever asked her out?”
“Seriously?” My hands hover over the suds, the dishes completely forgotten as I turn back to my mom.
“Yes. Seriously,” she mimics. “I want to know why.”
Groaning, I say, “Mom. We’re just friends. We’ve always been just friends.”
“And when you were kids, that was acceptable. And even the past few years, I was patient enough to let you figure out how much you were missing out by not pursuing her. But now? Now you have competition, young man.” She emphasizes her point by stabbing her index finger in the flesh beneath my collarbone.
Competition?
A spark of jealousy threatens to turn into a blaze, but I shove it aside. Again.
“It’s not a competition if I’m not wanting to compete in the first place,” I mutter, the lie leaving a bitter taste in my mouth.
“And why the hell would you not want to compete? I could see it in her eyes, Levi. She was thinking about it. She was considering giving him her number. She was weighing her options. And do you want to know why?”
My shoulders hunch. “Why?”
“Because I think she’s sick of waiting for you to get your head out of your rear and see her as more than a sideline girl.”
“Sideline girl?”
She waves her hand. “You know what I mean. Someone you always run back to when you’re needing a break from the field, knowing they’ll always be there. Until one day…they’re not. And you realize how much you’ve been missing out. You sidelined Charlie before she even had a chance to play, and she’s been waiting around ever since. I gotta give her credit, though. I’d assumed she would’ve gotten tired of your crap way before now—”
“This has nothing to do with me. It’s between her and Conner.”
“Bull crap. It has everything to do with you.”
Anxious, I scrub the leftover sauce from a plate before rinsing it and setting it on the drying rack.
Does my mom know that I agreed to this insane plan? That I’m practically pimping out my best friend for my career? My stomach churns, the pasta from earlier threatening to make a second appearance.
“Levi,” she continues. Her voice is softer now. “I love you. And I’m pretty sure that girl in there loves you. But if you can’t see it, then one day you’ll wake up, and it’ll be too late.”
Exasperated, I try to explain. “We’re just—”
“Friends. I know,” she cuts me off. “But if you were the boy I raised, you’d be able to see that you could be so much more than that. If only you gave her a chance.”
Laying the final cleaned dish onto the drying rack, I turn off the water and dry my hands on a floral-printed dish towel.
“I’m doing what’s best for all of us. For you. Me. And Charlie. Because she doesn’t want a guy like me. And even if she did, it isn’t fair for her to wait until I get my head out of my ass, like you so eloquently stated. She deserves to have fun. To date around. To learn what it’s like to have a one-night stand. All of it. Maybe I don’t want her to be my sideline girl. Maybe I want her to play the field, instead.”
“And once you get your wish, you’ll regret it for the rest of your life.” The ominous tone makes my hackles rise, but instead of lashing out, I wrap my arm around my mom’s neck and pull her into a hug.
“I love you, Mom.”
“And I love you. Which is why I want you to be happy.”
“I know.”
“And Charlie makes you happy.”
With a laugh, I release my hold. “She does. And you were right.”
“About what?”
“You really are the most stubborn person I’ve ever met.”
Grinning up at me, she digs her elbow into my ribs then makes her way back to the family room.
“And don’t you forget it,” she calls over her shoulder.
Chapter Fifteen
Charlie
After a delicious meal and sweet goodbyes from my adopted mom, Levi and I head to my apartment to chill and watch Netflix.
And no. Not Netflix and chill, which is the fun kind of hanging out that I’ve Googled. Just chill and watch Netflix, which is the boring kind where we lounge around and eat popcorn while arguing over what show to watch like an old married couple.
I sigh.
Yeah. Even the boring kind is pretty fun when I’m with Levi.
Remote in hand, I plop onto the couch and search for a show to watch while Levi takes off his shoes and gets comfortable beside me.
“What do you want to watch?” I ask.
“How ‘bout a chick flick?” he teases, his eyes glowing with mirth.
Rolling my eyes, I reach for the remote, but he raises his arm to keep it out of my reach.
“Har-har,” I mutter.
“You know, this is why you’re perfect,” he notes. “Most girls would kill to watch some sappy movie about romance and shit. But you prefer movies that give you nightmares or ones that blow shit up.”
“And proud of it, my friend. Thanks for never making me sit through something like The Notebook.” I scrunch up my face in disgust.
With a wink that I refuse to admit is sexy, he replies, “Anytime.”
Finally, he hands over the remote, and I start flipping through a few more options, comfortable in the silence that encompasses my little family room.
“So…Conner told me he asked you out today, and you said no.” Levi’s comment practically gives me whiplash as I turn to look at him.
“So?”
“So, I wanna know why,” he pushes, resting his hands behind his head.
Prickling, I mutter, “I’m not sure that’s any of your business, Levi.”
“It isn’t,” he concedes with a casual shrug. “But I care about you. Since our conversation last night, I’ve tried to comb over your past to come up with one guy that you’ve dated, and I came up empty. Obviously, relationships don’t interest you, but why don’t you date? Why would you say no to Conner? ’Cause he said you guys were having a good time until he mentioned taking you out.”
I’ve been asking myself the same question all day. Conner’s cute. And polite. And good with dogs. And a pretty good runner. He marks off every box on my list, yet I was still spooked. Dropping my gaze to my lap, I let go of the remote and start to fiddle with the hem of my T-shirt.
With a sigh, I admit, “I don’t do well one-on-one with guys.”
“That’s bullshit. We’re one-on-one all the time.”
“Well, yeah but…we’re friends.”
“So?”
“So, it’s different,” I reiterate. “You don’t look at me like you want anything more from me.” I let out a dry laugh because I’ve spent more time daydreaming that he’d look at me like he wanted something more from me than I’ve spent running. And that’s a hell of a lot of time.