Glad that Drew didn’t go on, Charlee took a deep breath. Admittedly, it had been the first thing that had come to mind yesterday when Hector left her standing there to drown in her own humiliation. But Drew was right. This was different. Charlee had brought this on herself. He just reacted. She shook her head. It wasn’t about that at all. “I just hate that the one place where I feel most comfortable being,” she squeezed her best friend’s hand, “except here with you, of course, has now been contaminated by this guy. I could never walk in there again without feeling uneasy. Even today, I was certain, because of his fight tonight, he wouldn’t be there, and I still skipped out on the lab just in case.”
The compassionate expression on Drew’s face was suddenly replaced with a mischievous smirk. “About that fight.”
“No.” Charlee sat up. “Absolutely not. He didn’t say it, but after what happened yesterday, I’m sure the invitation has been revoked. He hates me now.”
“Charlee, you said you were certain he was going to kiss you.”
“But he didn’t. He just meant to humiliate me, which he certainly succeeded in doing.”
Drew sat up too, taking in another spoonful of the quart of ice cream they were sharing then waved the spoon at Charlee. “No, no, no, Charlee Brennan. Not so fast. You said he flirted with you even before any of this happened.”
“He flirts with everyone!” Charlee countered quickly. “And he asked about you, remember?” She took the quart of ice cream from Drew and sunk her own spoon in. “He lumped me in with Walter.”
Gawd, could this be anymore mortifying? But she blamed herself. To even think for a minute that he would actually want to kiss her, especially after what she’d done to him. The worst part about this whole thing was that he now knew that, just like all the other girls he’d ever encountered, she too wasn’t immune to his charm as she so snootily thought she was. Okay, maybe she didn’t think so before, but after seeing him with those girls Saturday night, she certainly thought she could be. And boy did he prove her wrong. Now every time she’d see him she’d know what he’d be thinking.
“Hear me out, okay?” Drew said as Charlee licked another spoonful of ice cream clean. She was well aware that, even if she didn’t want to hear Drew out, there was nothing she could do or say to stop her friend from saying what was on her mind anyway. So her shoulders slumped and she waited grudgingly. “You said you caught him looking at you more than a few times even before you began to play him, right?” Charlee nodded. “And knowing you, just like the night of the tournament, you made absolutely sure you showed no interest in him whatsoever. Which, by the way, good girl. After what we saw Saturday night, you don’t want him thinking you’re like those girls.”
“That’s just the thing,” Charlee said, letting her head fall back against the headboard of Drew’s bed. “Now, he knows I am!”
“No, he doesn’t,” Drew insisted. “It didn’t actually happen, and who’s to say you would have done it.”
“He—”
“No!” Drew was even firmer this time. “Okay, so you went a little goo-goo eyed on him and froze. You were nervous. A guy like him has got to know a girl like you is not used to that.”
“A girl like me?” Charlee sat up straight again. She knew exactly what Drew meant, but she felt the need to at the very least protest. “What does that mean?”
Drew rolled her eyes then scooted over closer to Charlee and leaned her head on her shoulder. “You know what I mean, Charlee. You’re shy and quiet but very sweet. I think anybody can see that about you from a mile away. You’re nothing like those stupid girls on Saturday, and there is no way he would think you are. He knew you’d freeze up. But he doesn’t know for sure that you wouldn’t have snapped out of it and pushed him away if he actually did kiss you. Heck, you don’t even know.”
Oh, Charlee knew all right. As mortified as she’d been, she’d gotten back to her bed last night, and even as she cried, she kept imagining what it would’ve been like. How amazing it would’ve been to feel those sexy lips on hers. She’d been thankful that Drew had been on a date yesterday and gotten home late enough that Charlee could feign the sleep of death. Charlee had been in no mood to talk about it last night. She wasn’t this morning either, but when she got home early after skipping out on her chess lab today, Drew knew something was up immediately. It didn’t take much before Charlee was in tears again and Drew came to the rescue with tissue, two spoons, and a quart of chocolate chip mint—her favorite.
Charlee shrugged, feeling too drained to argue.
“I have a theory,” Drew continued. “Now even though you don’t believe it, I’m telling you, believe in my sixth sense, Charlee. He acted very strange Saturday night. He couldn’t keep his eyes off you, and you’re saying he was doing it again yesterday, right? How many times would you say you caught him staring?”
Charlee exhaled. “I don’t know,” she said, dumping her spoon into the container of ice cream. She’d had enough.
“C’mon, Charlee, think. Roughly how many times?”
Charlee knew exactly how many times: four before he’d even come over to sit with them then at least four more times during her game with Walter. Not to mention the way he’d looked at her every time he spoke to her. It was why she’d begun to think maybe there was some interest, especially remembering what Drew had told her about the way she’d caught him staring at her on Saturday. But if Charlee—the most pessimistic person in the world—could let herself become hopeful over a few stares, she knew Drew the hopeless romantic with her unnerving sixth sense that always seemed to be spot on, would go nuts if she told her just how many times, in turn, giving Charlee false hope as well. Something she did not need.