Page 31 of My Bestie's Billionaire Brother

Charlie laughs, the sound vibrating through his chest. "Not quite. The set came with this trick saw, you know, for the classic 'sawing a person in half' illusion. I thought I'd practice on myown before trying it out on an audience. So, I set up a cardboard box in my room and decided to saw through it."

I can't help but giggle, imagining a young Charlie attempting such a feat. "Oh no, I can see where this is going."

"Oh, it gets better," he says, grinning. "I was so focused on getting the trick right that I didn't notice my cat, Mr. Whiskers, had crawled into the box. When I started 'sawing,' he freaked out and bolted. His claw caught my shoulder as he jumped out, leaving this lovely souvenir."

I burst into laughter, burying my face in his chest to muffle the sound. "Oh my God, Charlie. That's hilarious and adorable."

He chuckles, running his fingers through my hair.

"So, did you ever try that trick again?"

"Oh, definitely not. I retired from my illustrious magic career immediately. Mr. Whiskers never forgave me, though. He'd run away every time I came near him after that."

We fall into a comfortable silence, and I find myself tracing lazy patterns on Charlie's chest. Despite the warmth and contentment I feel, a nagging doubt begins to creep in. I remember Jane's warning about Charlie's aversion to monogamy, and I wonder if he's already regretting what just happened between us.

As if sensing my unease, Charlie breaks the silence. "So how about telling me one of your embarrassing childhood stories?"

I look up at him, grateful for the distraction. "Hmm…there are so many. Which one should I choose..."

He grins mischievously. "The most embarrassing one, please.”

I laugh, shaking my head. "Okay, fine. But remember, you asked for this." I prop myself up on his chest and take a deep breath, settling in to tell my tale. "So, when I was in sixth grade, I decided I wanted to learn to play the cello. My parents werethrilled—they'd always wanted me to learn an instrument. They rented me a cello, and I started taking lessons."

Charlie rubs my back slowly as I speak, sending pleasant shivers down my spine.

"For months, I practiced every day. I wasn't great, but I was improving. Then came the dreaded winter concert. Our music teacher, Mrs. Harrington, insisted that everyone perform a solo piece along with the group numbers."

"Oh no," Charlie chuckles, already anticipating the disaster.

"Oh yes," I confirm with a grimace. "I chose to play 'Ode to Joy,' thinking it would be simple enough. The night of the concert arrived, and I was incredibly nervous. My palms were sweaty, my stomach was doing somersaults, and I could barely hold my bow steady.”

Charlie pulls me closer, his hand rubbing soothing circles on my back. I can feel his chest rumble with suppressed laughter.

"I took my place on stage, the spotlight blinding me as I looked out at the sea of expectant faces. Parents, teachers, and classmates all waiting to hear the fruits of our musical labors. I raised my bow, took a deep breath, and began to play.”

"The first few notes were shaky but recognizable. I started to relax, thinking maybe I could pull this off. But then, disaster struck. My bow slipped, screeching across the strings like nails on a chalkboard. I felt my face burning with embarrassment.”

“I could feel sweat trickling down my back. I tried to pull myself together, but my fingers were trembling so badly that I could barely hold the bow.”

“I forced myself to continue, each note worse than the last. The beautiful melody had transformed into something that sounded more like a cat being strangled. I could see Mrs. Harrington in the wings, her face a mixture of horror and pity.”

“As I struggled through the piece, my stomach began to churn violently. The combination of nerves, stage fright, and thethree slices of pizza I'd nervously devoured before the concert were creating a perfect storm in my stomach.”

“I tried to power through, but my body had other plans. Just as I reached the crescendo of the piece, a wave of nausea hit me like a freight train. I desperately tried to swallow it back, but it was no use. In front of the entire audience—parents, teachers, and worst of all, my crush, Tommy Peterson—I projectile vomited all over the stage.”

“The sound of my retching echoed through the auditorium, amplified by the microphone. Chunks of pizza splattered across the floor, some even reaching the first row of the audience. Mrs. Harrington rushed onto the stage, absolutely horrified.”

“As if the situation wasn't bad enough, I slipped on the puddle of vomit as I tried to get off the stage. My feet went out from under me, and I landed on my ass, sliding across the stage in a grotesque slip-and-slide.”

“The auditorium erupted into chaos. Parents gasped, children screamed with a mixture of horror and delight, and poor Mrs. Harrington looked like she might faint. I could hear my mother's panicked voice calling my name as she rushed towards the stage.”

“Through my tears of humiliation, I caught a glimpse of Tommy Peterson's face. His expression was a mix of disgust and fascination. Any hope I had of him asking me to the spring dance was gone.”

Charlie is laughing so hard at this point that I think he might start crying. “I’ve never heard anything more horrible in my whole life,” he says, wiping his eyes.

“Well, I’m glad you’re so entertained. I’ve been in therapy ever since, but no big deal,” I joke.

“Oh, Tess, I’m so sorry. And it’s fucking hilarious that now you play the cello in front of huge crowds.”

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