Beneath the bet

Chapter 6 - Noah

The second we walked into the charity ball, I knew everything had changed. I could feel eyes on us immediately, whispers starting to spread around the room like wildfire. I scanned the crowd and saw the confused stares from people who had known Charlotte—well, thought they had known her—for years. But no one recognized her.

Hell, even I barely recognized her.

There she was, the girl I used to know, the girl I had grown up with—except now, she looked like she'd stepped straight out of a magazine. That black dress, hugging every curve, the way her hair cascaded down her back, the confidence in her stride. It was unreal. She didn't look like the Charlotte who used to hide in the shadows in baggy clothes, the girl I had convinced myself was invisible, the one I tried so hard to push away because... well, because I was a coward.

My stomach twisted with guilt and something else I didn't want to admit. I glanced over at her, my breath catching for a moment as she smiled shyly at someone who waved her way. The girl who had once been my best friend, the one I had turned my back on, was standing here, looking like she had transformed overnight.

Fuck.

This was going to be harder than I thought.

I had no idea why she always came to school in oversized hoodies and jeans that looked like they were three sizes too big, hiding behind her hair like she didn't want anyone to see her. Maybe that was the point—she hadn't wanted to be seen. But standing here now, in that dress, the way she held herself... it was like she was someone completely different.

I kept sneaking glances at her as we walked further into the ballroom. It wasn't just the way she looked. It was the way she carried herself tonight. There was a quiet confidence about her, like she knew exactly who she was, and for the first time, she didn't care what anyone else thought. I'd never seen her like this before.

She looked like she belonged here.

And it hit me, all at once, that I wasn't sure if I could go through with this. This plan—this stupid, twisted plan that we had cooked up—suddenly felt like a sick joke. The idea of getting close to her just to mess with her, to find out her secrets, it felt wrong in a way that made my stomach churn.

Because looking at her now... I couldn't deny it. There was a part of me that had missed her. The real her. The Charlotte I used to spend hours talking to, laughing with, back before everything got so complicated. The girl I'd abandoned when she needed me most.

"Everything okay?" she asked, pulling me out of my thoughts.

I blinked, realising I'd been staring at her for too long. "Uh, yeah. Yeah, I'm good."

She gave me a small smile, one that didn't quite reach her eyes, and for a second, I wondered if she could see through me. If she knew that inside, I was falling apart at the seams.

As we moved through the crowd, people kept staring. I could hear the murmurs—who was this girl? Was that really Charlotte Thompson? I wasn't sure if she noticed or if she was just really good at pretending not to, but either way, she didn't flinch. She kept walking beside me, holding her head high.

I found myself watching her more than I should have, feeling this weird, uncomfortable mix of guilt and something else I couldn't quite put my finger on. I wasn't supposed to feel anything. This was supposed to be simple—get her to open up, make her feel comfortable, then... well, I didn't even want to think about the rest of the plan right now.

But looking at her tonight, I wasn't sure if I could go through with it. I wasn't sure if I could keep pretending.

Grace's voice popped into my head, her smug smile when she threw that extra hundred bucks on the table, telling me to date Charlotte myself, like this was all some kind of game. But now that I was here, with Charlotte standing beside me, looking like a damn model, it didn't feel like a game anymore.

It felt real. Too real.

We found a table near the back of the room, away from the spotlight, and sat down. The music was soft, the lights dim, casting a warm glow over the ballroom. I shifted awkwardly in my seat, trying to think of something to say, but the words wouldn't come. The silence between us felt heavy, filled with all the things I didn't know how to explain.

 "So, do you think anyone recognizes me?" she asked, breaking the silence with a small, nervous laugh.

I chuckled, shaking my head. "Honestly? I don't think they have a clue."

She smiled again, but this time, it was softer, more genuine. "Good. I kind of like it that way."

I nodded, biting the inside of my cheek. This was my chance, wasn't it? My chance to make her feel comfortable, to open up to me. To do the thing we had planned. But every time I looked at her, every time she smiled at me, it felt like I was being punched in the gut.

I thought back to when we were kids, when everything was simple. When I hadn't screwed everything up. And then, without thinking, I blurted out, "Why did you stop talking to me?"

Her eyes widened slightly, caught off guard. "What?"

I shifted uncomfortably. "After everything with your parents... you just stopped. You never said anything."

Her expression softened, but there was a flicker of pain behind her eyes. "You're the one who stopped talking to me, Noah."

My heart sank. I knew she was right. I had no excuse, no good reason for how I had treated her, and hearing her say it out loud made it all the more real.

"I know," I said quietly, dropping my gaze to the floor. "I was just... scared. I didn't know how to deal with it. So I took the easy way out."

Charlotte looked at me for a long time, her eyes searching mine, and for a second, I thought she might walk away. But she didn't. Instead, she took a deep breath and said, "I was scared too, Noah. I didn't know how to deal with losing them. I didn't know how to talk to anyone. And you—you were the one person I thought would be there for me."

Her words cut deep, and I felt that guilt in my chest tighten, squeezing the air out of my lungs. I had failed her. Not just as a friend, but as a person.

"I'm sorry," I whispered, and for the first time, I meant it. Really meant it.

We sat there in silence for what felt like forever, the weight of everything hanging between us. And then, she smiled. It was small, hesitant, but it was real. And for the first time in a long time, I felt like maybe there was a chance to fix things.

As the music changed to something slower, I swallowed hard and glanced over at her. "Do you want to dance?"

She hesitated, then nodded. "Yeah. I think I'd like that."

We stood up, moving toward the dance floor. As I took her hand and pulled her close, the world around us seemed to fade away. It was just us, like it used to be. And for the first time in years, I didn't feel like I was pretending.