Midnight Sun(21)

Charlie laughs. “I bet Zoe’s never set foot in here, especially not to read.”

His seemingly vast knowledge of her likes and dislikes, not to mention the floor plan of her house, unsettles me. My stomach churns with worry and fear. I wonder what kind of relationship Charlie and Zoe had or have and how he could ever like a girl like her when he also seems to like me. Zoe and I could not be more different in every possible way.

I swallow hard and turn to Charlie. “You seem to know Zoe pretty well,” I say, trying to sound casual but feeling far from it. “And from what I could tell back in the living room, she seems to feel like she has some kind of a claim on you. So what’s the deal with you two?”

Charlie puts his hands up like he’s trying to deflect the question right back at me. “Whoa, where did that come from?”

I shrug. “I’m just saying, you’re giving me a tour of her house like you live here. She looks at me like she wants to rip my head off because I’m with you. I just want to make sure I’m not getting in the middle of anything.”

Charlie takes my hands in his and looks me straight in the eyes. “There’s nothing to get in the middle of, I promise.”

I stare back up at him, hungry for more explanation. There’s more than nothing here. It’s a definite something, or at least it was at some point. I raise an eyebrow like an unspoken question.

“Fine, we used to hook up once in a while,” he finally admits. “Back when I was still Mr. Big Shot Swimmer. But it’s not something I’m proud of or want to repeat or anything.”

I nod. I appreciate his honesty even though I didn’t really want to know that his lips have touched hers. I’m going to have a hard time getting that mental picture out of my head. The thought of those two together makes me shiver.

“You cold?” he says, noticing. “You can wear my sweatshirt if you want.”

“No, I’m good,” I tell him.

“And how about us? Are we good now?” he asks.

I think about it for a second. “Yeah. We’re all good.”

Charlie turns off the light and leads me back out into the long hallway. “You up for a game of beer pong?”

“I’ve never played,” I admit. “But sure. Even though I hate beer.”

And just like that, the tension over Zoe dissipates. “I’ll show you how,” he says. “In fact, I’ll even drink the beer you’re supposed to if you want.”

“Sounds great,” I tell him.

We head back into the den and watch the game already in progress. From what I can tell, beer pong consists of people taking turns chucking a little white ball into red cups set up in a triangle at either end of a table and then chugging the beer in them until it’s all gone.

I’m not at all hopeful I’ll be any good at it, but if Charlie’s willing to down the drinks, I’m more than happy to give it a go. The players toss the ball and chug. Chug and toss. Eventually, that game ends and Charlie and I take on the winners.

He grabs the ball and mimics the throwing motion for me. “Just be gentle and get a good arc on it,” he says. “It’s a finesse game, not a brute force one. Go ahead. You got this.”

He hands me the ball. I shoot. A flash of white curves through the air, then lands in the cup with a decisive little plop. I look up at Charlie in surprise. He high-fives me. The guy on the other side of the table chugs, then takes a shot. It misses.

“Go again,” Charlie urges me.

Ball two of mine hits. Then three, four, five, and so on. I can’t miss. The other team barely sinks any in our cups. Clearly, they are going to get very buzzed and Charlie will stay basically sober.

“She’s a hustler! She’s a beast! Where did she come from?!” Charlie whoops as I clinch the final toss.

I can’t stop grinning. After years of being a failure at every sport I tried—I was serious about my dad being a terrible gym teacher—I’ve finally found one I’m good at. Beer pong. Too bad I can’t tell Dad a thing about my newfound athletic prowess. I think he’d love the fact that I finally got to play a team sport after all these years, and earned all-star status at it, no less.

Morgan, who’s been watching my quick ascent into the hall of fame from the sidelines, challenges us to the next game.

“Just you wait,” Morgan trash talks from the other side of the table. “I’ve got a secret weapon on my team, too. He might not know how to tap a keg, but he definitely knows how to sink a Ping-Pong ball.”

She slaps Garver on the back, trying to pump him up. Garver lobs it and sinks it on his first try. He turns and throws his arms around Morgan, jumping up and down and hugging her. She doesn’t exactly return his enthusiasm. She peels his limbs from around her neck, puts some space between them, and gives him a fist bump instead.

“In your face!” Garver yells across the table at me. “Drink, Katie!”

“I got it,” Charlie says as he reaches around and grabs the cup. “I’m a man of my word.”

I take aim again and land the ball like the seasoned pro I am now. I’m on a total roll. I couldn’t miss if I tried. Garver chugs.

His luck runs out on his next throw. The ball bounces off the rim of a cup, skitters to the ground, and rolls under the couch. Garver kneels down and goes to retrieve it.