"Sebastian was ranked second in the world before his injury," Charlie states matter-of-factly, her hand finding my thigh under the table. "He has three X Games gold medals."
The pride in her voice catches me off guard—it sounds genuine, not performed.
Ethan's smile tightens. "Shame about the injury, then. Must have been tough going from that to... office work."
"Sports marketing is hardly 'office work,' Ethan," Charlie interjects before I can respond. "Sebastian consults with major athletes and brands worldwide. He just helped Titan land the Adrenaline Athletics account."
I squeeze her hand gently, touched by her defense.
"What Ethan means," Olivia jumps in, her voice syrupy sweet, "is that it must be such a difficult transition. I mean, all that adrenaline and fame to... what did you call it, E? A desk job?"
I feel Charlie tense beside me, but I laugh easily. "Actually, I've found that the business world has its own kind of rush. Different playing field, same competitive spirit." I turn to Charlie with a genuine smile. "Plus, I'd never have met Charlie otherwise, so I'd say things worked out perfectly."
"How fortuitous," Ethan mutters, pushing a salmon roll around his plate.
The moment stretches thin as Ethan's gaze locks with mine across the table. There's a challenge there, masked by his practiced smile—a territorial marking that's six months outdated but still stubbornly present.
Richard clears his throat, breaking the tension between Ethan and I.
And I’m instantly reminded of what he had said earlier. About how I look at Charlie and I bring my attention back to her. She’s pushing her sashimi around on her plate. If her father can see through me so easily, how long before Charlie realizes the same—that this relationship was never fake for me.
Chapter seventeen
Charlie
I swirl the last sip of wine in my glass, trying to pay attention to Emily's story about some workplace drama but my focus keeps drifting to Bash beside me. Throughout dinner, his hand has found mine under the table at key moments—whenever Ethan was staring at us, whenever Olivia made a too-sweet comment about wedding planning. He's been the perfect fake boyfriend, attentive without being clingy, charming without being overbearing. Too perfect, really. It's messing with my head.
The warmth of his palm against mine sends little electric currents up my arm, making it nearly impossible to focus on anything else. His thumb occasionally traces small circles on my skin—a gesture that feels too intimate.
"Charlotte, honey, did you hear me?" Mom's voice cuts through my thoughts, that familiar tone that says she's repeating herself.
"Sorry, what?" I look up to find everyone staring at me.
Great.
Mom gives me that familiar exasperated smile. "I was just going over tomorrow's agenda. We're planning a full day on the slopes! The weather report says fresh powder overnight."
"Oh, right. Sounds perfect." I take a sip of wine, suddenly aware of Bash's knee pressing against mine under the table. The pressure is deliberate, reassuring—like he knows I'm feeling overwhelmed and wants to ground me. Which is ridiculous, because how would he know that?
Mrs. Harper claps her hands together, her diamond tennis bracelet catching the light.
"I can't wait! Doug and I were just saying how we truly enjoy our time on the slopes with the Whitakers." She pats her husband's hand.
Dad nods, his eyes lighting up as he turns to Bash. The subtle shift in my father's posture tells me he's about to enter "man talk" mode. "Though Sebastian might want to snowboard instead? Seeing as you were a professional before your accident."
The table falls silent, and I feel Bash stiffen slightly beside me. The tension in his shoulder where it presses against mine is subtle but unmistakable. I resist the urge to place my hand on his thigh to comfort him, because that would definitely not be part of our arrangement.
Ethan scoffs, not even trying to hide his eye roll. The familiar gesture—the one he'd do whenever he thought someone was being pretentious—makes my stomach clench. Olivia leans over, her platinum blonde hair cascading perfectly as she whispers something in his ear that makes him smirk. That fucking smirk. The one that always meant he thought he was the smartest person in the room.
"Something funny?" I ask before I can stop myself. My voice comes out sharper than intended, earning a warning glance from my mother.
Ethan shrugs, leaning back in his chair with that infuriating casual confidence. "Just wondering if we're all supposed to pretend we knew Sebastian was some pro athlete."
"X Games gold medalist, actually," Bash says smoothly, his hand finding mine again under the table. His fingers interlace with mine, and I give him a gentle squeeze communicating my support. "But since Charlie skis, I thought I'd join her tomorrow." He turns to me, his eyes softening in a way that makes my chest tighten. The ice blue of his irises seems warmer somehow, crinkled at the corners with genuine affection. "Been a while since I've been on skis, but I think I remember how they work."
Something about the way he's looking at me—like I'm the only person in this room—makes my heart flip. The playfulness in his voice combined with the intensity of his gaze is a devastating combination. And suddenly, I'm tired of playing it safe. Tired of letting Ethan think he knows me. Tired of being the predictable Charlie who never surprises anyone.
"Actually," I hear myself saying, "I was wondering if you could teach me how to snowboard instead."
