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"He sounds cute," Charlie's mom said slyly.
"Mom," Charlie chided, but he couldn't tell her how stupid it was to think someone sounded cute, not with that someone ten feet away. "Knock it off."
"I'm just saying, he sounds like a good friend."
"That's not what you said."
"I love you, honey. We're going to miss you so much, but we'll see you when the snow lets up."
"Love you too, mom. We can Skype when I get there, tomorrow morning or something."
"Sounds good. I can't wait to see your face."
Hugh was wrestling with the zipper on his bag when Charlie hung up. "Is that it, then?" he asked.
"I guess that's it. How long is this trip?"
"Twelve hours," Hugh said, shouldering the bag. "Plus or minus an hour in between bus stops."
"And we're not flying— oh." Charlie made a face. "Right."
Hugh snorted. "Right. Come on, Yank. Let's go stuff you full of proper Scottish pudding."