“Please don’t. Let’s just go.”
“Why’s he here? I thought he always went away with his parents for the summer?”
All I could do was shrug.
Chase slid his tongue over his lip as he watched me. Debating. Finally he reached down and took my hand off his arm, holding it in his as he pulled me to my feet. “Let’s go.”
When we got to my dorm, he came in, kicked his shoes off, and plopped onto the empty bed in my room.
“What are you doing?”
“I don’t feel like driving back to my dorm.”
“Your dorm that’s three minutes away?”
He shrugged, tucking his hands under his head. I let it go because not only was I glad he was staying after seeing Loden, but mostly because I wanted him there.
He still didn’t kiss me.
~*~
I smile at my reflection in the mirror. I don’t know where the last few months have gone. They’re a blur of Chase and fun. Of butterflies and touching.
I can’t believe my junior year is starting. But it’s a new beginning.
Loden’s starting law school. He’ll be on a different campus, and hopefully way too busy to keep tabs on me. I feel good. Like I’m starting over. Maybe I’ll actually do things right this time.
When I open my door, Chase is waiting for me. Back against the wall, ear buds in place, legs crossed at the ankle. His eyes are closed, his face relaxed, and I just look at him for a moment. The corners of his lips turn up and I know he knows I’m watching him.
So I kick him as I walk past.
He chuckles and grabs a loop on the back of my jeans, pulling me back to him. His arms wrap around mine, pinning me to him from behind. I have no complaints. This is my happy place. Like…the happiest of happy places. His chest is pressed tight to my back and I can feel his heart beating. It’s strange how I notice these things now—the heat of his body, every single inch that connects to my body like a furnace, and I want to snuggle closer. His pulse, faster than it should be, causing mine to pick up in response.
“If you want, I’ll take some selfies and send them to you,” he says, his breath blowing warmly across my neck and making it difficult to think. “That way you can stare at me as long as you want.”
“I wasn’t staring,” I reply slowly. “I was trying to figure out what’s going on with your hair.”
He releases me with an insulted huff. “You know you like it” His fingers rake through his already messy hair, causing it to stand up in multiple directions. And he’s right. I do like it. It goes against every OCD impulse, but I love his chaotic hairstyles.
I shrug, refusing to acknowledge him. “I’m going to be late. What’s up?”
He slides his fingers in between mine and guides us to the door. “Nothing’s up. I just wanted to see you before we were trapped in prison all day.”
“You know college is a choice, right? You aren’t being held against your will.”
“If I ever want to do more than bus tables, there is no choice. Trust me, I’m being held captive by this circus show. Same as everyone else.”
“I like school,” I say, shrugging.
Chase releases my hand as he opens the door and doesn’t touch me again until we’re in the stairwell. His hand settles on my back, against the skin between my jeans and tee shirt. Out of all the places he could touch me, he chooses this spot. Goose bumps explode across every inch of my body. This is what happens when he comes in contact with my bare flesh now. Even something so little as his fingers on a small strip of skin has my body responding.
“When do you get a break?” he asks, stopping on the last step. He pivots so he’s facing me, my feet one step above, putting us at eye level with each other. This might be my second happiest place.
“I have a break from one to two, then my final class of the day. Why?”
“Have lunch with me.” He grins, his mouth forming that slightly crooked smile I’ve come to love.
I mean like.
I like his smile.
“Okay,” I agree. “Meet me in the quad?”
He bites his lip as he thinks and all my attention focuses there. Once again I get distracted, thinking about “the kiss that never was.”
“Actually,” he begins, but trails off quickly. His eyes flick to mine and I know he just caught me staring at his mouth. It’s not the first time. And I’m sure it won’t be the last. The movement of his tongue darting out to wet his lips draws my attention right back. I automatically follow suit, sliding my tongue over my own lips. And then I feel his gaze burning into me.
This right here—this silent, unspoken heat that fires off between us—it happens a lot.
Third happiest place.
I don’t know what it means. I don’t know how to stop it. I don’t know what to do about it. I don’t know if I should do anything about it.
I think I think too much.
It’s the smallest shift, just this tiny movement of his feet, but I notice it. My whole body notices it. Chase is so close to me our shirts rub, cotton to cotton, as he lifts his hand. I try not to, but my chin twitches and my jaw clenches.
It’s such a minor reaction, but his penetrating gaze doesn’t miss it. And just like that, the spell is broken. He clears his throat, hops off the final step backwards, and pulls the door open.
“The quad’s fine,” he says. His voice is tight, controlled. I don’t know if it’s anger—anger at me because I still can’t manage to stop shying away when his hands come anywhere near my face—or if he’s disappointed. Maybe it’s both.
“Okay,” I whisper.
“Annie?” He places his arm in front of the door, keeping me from passing through.
“Yeah?” I don’t turn. I don’t look at him.
“I’m still waiting on you,” he says, carefully forming each word.
Now I turn around, confused. He’s the one blocking the door. “What?”
He drops his hand. Shrugs his broad shoulders. “I just wanted you to know I’m still here. Still waiting. When you’re ready.” He smiles, but it’s not his usual Chase smile, which is so depressing because he has a great smile.
But this one makes my stomach twist and my heart ache—physically ache inside my chest.
He looks…sad, but also, resolute.
“What if I never am?” I ask in a rare moment of pure honesty.
Shaking his head, Chase says, “I was willing to wait on you long before you had a reason to take your time. I think I’m willing to wait long after.”
I have a million responses to that. So many things I want to say to him.
But words don’t form.
Instead, I lean into his chest, resting my cheek against his heart, slip my hands around his waist, and squeeze. I inhale his scent. Soak up his warmth. Revel in the hard plains of his chest.
Hands down—all time happiest place.
I may not be able to tell him what I’m thinking, but I hope he can understand what I’m feeling. I hope my body speaks to his with the pressure of my arms and the heat in my cheek. I hope he understands that the longer I hang on to him, the less I want to let him go. I hope he gets it. I hope he knows.
His hands work slowly into my hair, smoothing a fiery trail down my back. His arms tighten around me, embracing me, safe and secure.
Sometimes words aren’t really needed, I think.
34
My Best Friend
Chase
I think I love her.
Annie, I mean.
I think this is what love must be like.
That one person that’s always inside your head, running through your thoughts before you even realize you’re thinking about them. That person you like thinking about all the time because the image of her makes you smile. The one that has you counting time by how soon you can see her again. The one that makes you feel good just by sharing the same air. The only one you want to touch your fingertips to and relish the sensation of her skin against yours. To kiss. To really kiss—mouths, lips, tongues, teeth, breaths. Eyes closed and world blocked out.
For me, that one person is Annie.
Always Annie.
So, that’s love, right?
If not, it sure as shit should be. What else can have that kind of effect on someone? This isn’t friendship. I know. I’ve never felt the need to brush the hair from Guy’s face so I could see his eyes better. Or to pull Park close, my fingers searching for a pulse just so I could feel the way it quickened in response to my touch. I think I’d get my ass kicked. By both of them.
It’s not friendship I feel for Annie, though I think it’s safe to say she’s my best friend.
This is… Shit.
I love her.
It started sinking in over the summer—after Heaven called it quits. We were sitting in my dorm room, listening to music. Annie called for a ride—she’d left the dome light on and the battery died—so I told Heaven I had to go. And then Heaven asked me if I was in love with her—with Annie.
My first reaction had been to say no. In fact, I think it was more like, “HELL no.” I knew I cared about her and wanted more with her, but love?
In a way only Heaven can pull off, she calmly told me she was tired of coming second to a girl I didn’t even love. So either I was really insulting her, or I was in denial. She could understand the way I constantly ditched her if it was because I loved Annie.
She added that I was obviously confused, promised we’d stay friends, and then she left. When I didn’t really care, and found myself more relieved than anything else, it occurred to me that she may have had a point.
Because the plain and simple truth is, as cool and hot as Heaven is, she isn’t Annie.
I think I may have always loved Annie. And that’s why none of my relationships have worked. Because they weren’t her and she’s all I ever wanted.
Do you know how fucked up it is to have a realization like that slap you across the face? I hadn’t seen it coming. I knew I cared about her. I knew I was attracted to her. But love? It hit me like a freaking train. One of those super long trains that seem to have no end. And I’m lying on the tracks, being dragged as they rip me apart, over and over again.
That’s what this feels like.
For some reason, I didn’t think it’d happen like this. I wasn’t sure love was real. Not for me. And then it snuck up and sucker-punched me.
What is it they say about unrequited love?
Oh, yeah… It fucking sucks. And not in the fun way.
I know I’m not good enough for Annie. I just wish she didn’t know it too. I may not be good enough, because no guy is good enough for her, but if ever there were two people that were made for each other, it’s me and her. She’s an uptight, pain in the ass, with OCD tendencies, and a killer body. I’m an easygoing, loveable, slacker with a killer body. We don’t make sense on paper.
But when it’s just me and Annie, that’s when it all falls into place.
And I’d do anything for her. She mentioned over the summer how much she missed doing random shit whenever she wanted, like baking cookies or having people over for dinner. When she told me she wished she had a place that felt like home, I knew it was time I went and found an apartment. I’d wanted my own place for a little while, but I didn’t want to move away from her. I rented the cheapest apartment I could find closest to her dorm so she would always have a place to go.
I love her and I’ll always put her first.
I’m sure I could make her see this with one kiss. Not to stroke my own bass strings, but Annie and I have chemistry. (The physical reaction—not the class.) I can guarantee, with all the sexual tension building over the years, she’d realize how well we go together the second I put my mouth on her.
But I can’t stand the way she shies away from my touch. It makes me sick. I’m not a violent person, but every single time I see her flinch, I have murderous thoughts. I literally envision all the ways I could kill Loden and get away with it.