He shook his head and laughed. “Okay, so I take it she’s gonna let Uncle Not-a-Killer Bobby help her?”
Andie nodded. “Yep. Turns out they have a lot in common. He knows where her audition is.”
“Perfect,” Chase said. “So what happens?”
“Well, he takes her to the audition. They have a good talk on the way. And he even drives her home afterward.”
“Where’s her car?”
“Oh, it was towed a while back,” Andie said with a wave of her hand, and Chase smiled.
“Does she get the part?”
“She does,” Andie said. “She got there just in time. And she calls Uncle Bobby to thank him for helping her that day, and he invites her out to celebrate.”
Chase lifted his eyebrows. “He does? Wow, props to Uncle Bobby.”
Andie laughed softly.
“And you know what happened after that, don’t you?” he asked.
She nodded. “They lived happily ever after.”
“No, they had crazy monkey sex in every room of her apartment.”
Andie whirled around, smacking him in the chest, and he flinched, rubbing the spot she hit and laughing to himself.
“God,” she said.
“Okay, okay, they lived happily ever after. After the monkey sex.”
Andie stifled a laugh, shaking her head.
“See?” Chase said. “Everything worked out for her the way it should have. And all because we didn’t stop to help her.”
She allowed herself to smile then, looking over at him. “Thank you,” she said softly.
He stared at her for a second before he cleared his throat.
“You’re welcome,” he said quietly, turning to look out the passenger window again.
CHAPTER FOUR
It was uncomfortable again.
After the hour or so that morning they had spent at each other’s throats, somehow he and Andie had fallen into a better place. In fact, there were some moments when things seemed just fine between them. Easy, even. Then suddenly, for one reason or another, things would turn awkward, and they’d both wait it out until the air cleared and they could start over. It seemed to be a “two steps forward, one step back” kind of deal, and he wasn’t sure why.
Actually, that wasn’t true. He knew perfectly well why it was like that between them; despite the fact that Andie had loosened up a bit since that morning, she was still cautious and uptight by nature, and whenever Chase said something she thought was mocking her, she would pull back.
But she hadn’t been the one who pulled back this time.
No, this time it had been Chase who had retreated, after they had played that little storytelling game with the hitchhiker. The way she had smiled at him, the way she said thank you, did something funny to the pit of his stomach. He didn’t like it.
Actually, he did like it. And therein was the problem.
So Chase had removed himself for a bit so he could shake it off, and they had been in their little awkward bubble ever since. In the car, it wasn’t as noticeable. They could listen to the radio or watch the scenery.
But sitting across from each other in a diner, waiting for their food, the discomfort was palpable and borderline unbearable.
Time to start over, he thought.
Chase tore a tiny piece off the corner of his napkin and rolled it between his thumb and forefinger until it was a perfect little ball. Then he reached over to the side of the table and grabbed one of the empty coffee creamers, placing it in the center of the table. He glanced up at Andie before he took aim, tossing the paper ball toward the cup.
It landed perfectly inside the empty creamer.
“Ha!” Chase said. “Now you have to tell me a favorite.”
“Huh?”
“When I was little, my mom used to play this game with me all the time while we were waiting for our food. You make the shot, you get to ask the other person one of their favorites.”
Andie looked at him, a hint of confusion behind her eyes. “Okay?”
Chase smiled. “So, what’s your favorite…movie?”
She took a breath, glancing toward the kitchen before she looked back to Chase. “Favorite movie?” she said distractedly. “I guess Gone With the Wind.”
“Cliché,” he sighed, and Andie huffed heavily.
“Do you always have to make a comment?” she said. “You do understand the concept behind playing a game, right? It’s supposed to be fun.”
“I know. I’m having a great time.”
Andie rolled her eyes as he laughed to himself, centering the creamer once again.
“Your turn,” he said.
She stared at him, unmoving, and he smiled. “Come on. You can make fun of my answer if it will make you feel better.”
“I don’t get my kicks out of making other people feel stupid,” she said, but she reached over and pulled a tiny piece off her napkin before balling it up.
Chase watched her line up the shot, squinting one eye as she took aim, and he bit the corner of his lip to stop himself from laughing.
Andie sighed heavily, dropping her hand to the table. “This is an impossible shot.”
“No it’s not. I just made it.”
“Yeah, but you’ve been playing this game your whole life.”
Chase laughed out loud. “I played it a handful of times when I was a kid! You’re making it sound like I was a contender in the Napkin Ball Olympics.”
Andie stared at him before she said, “The Napkin Ball Olympics?”
He laughed again as he pushed the tiny plastic cup off to the side of the table, and then he picked up his mug and quickly drained the rest of it before placing it down in the center of the table.
“There. Try it now. This is how I trained my rookie year.”
She laughed softly before she lined up her shot, tossing the paper ball easily into the mug. Her eyes flashed with triumph before she quickly reined it in and cleared her throat. “Okay, um…favorite song?”
“Wind Beneath My Wings.”
Andie laughed loudly, immediately cupping her hand over her mouth, and Chase did his best to look offended.
“I thought you weren’t going to make fun of my answer.”
“You set me up!”
“No, I didn’t. It’s an amazing song.”
She shook her head. “You are such a liar.”
Chase’s cheeks hurt with the effort to remain expressionless, and he finally broke, his grin followed by a throaty chuckle. As soon as she heard his laughter, Andie rolled her eyes. “I knew it.”
“Too many favorites to name,” he said, tearing another corner off his napkin. “Plus, it depends on my mood.”
Before she could press him further, Chase dropped his gaze to the mug and lined up his shot. It should have been a harmless question, but music was a personal thing for him; sharing his favorites always felt so intimate, like pulling out little pieces of his soul and laying them bare.
And the fact that he found himself wanting to have that conversation with her was enough of a red flag that he shouldn’t do it.
Chase tossed the little napkin ball into the mug easily. He glanced up at her, and she lifted her brow in challenge. She was back in one of her open moods, it seemed, and he figured he’d take advantage of the opportunity.
“Favorite thing about Colin?”
Her eyes dropped as her cheeks flushed. “I’m not gonna tell you that.”
He wasn’t even sure why he’d asked in the first place, but her reaction only served to make him more curious. He felt like he had a pretty good handle on what turned her off.
But he honestly had no idea what she was drawn to.
“Why won’t you tell me?” He leaned in conspiratorially. “Is it sex stuff?”
Andie’s cheeks went from pink to scarlet. “No!” she said abruptly, shaking her head. When the corner of his mouth lifted in a lopsided smile, she added, “No, I mean, that’s fine. He’s fine. At that. God,” she groaned, dropping
her face into her hands.
He should have been trying to put her out of her misery, but he loved seeing her flustered. She was normally so poised, so self-assured. Watching her this way made her seem so unguarded.
He felt like he was getting a glimpse at the real her.
The waiter approached the table then, giving them their food and asking if they needed anything else. After they both declined, Chase turned toward the other end of the table and reached to grab the ketchup.
“He makes me feel safe.”
He froze with his hand on the bottle, looking over at her. Her eyes were on her plate as she pulled the excess lettuce off her sandwich.
“He makes you feel safe?”
She reached over and grabbed the salt, avoiding his eyes as sprinkled some on her French fries.
Chase dropped his hand from the ketchup, turning to face her fully. “Do you live in a particularly rough neighborhood?”
Andie shook her head gently. “Forget it,” she said under her breath, taking a bite of her sandwich and looking off toward the kitchen as she chewed delicately.
He watched her for another second before he dropped his eyes, and then he grabbed the ketchup, absently shaking some on his burger. Of all the answers she could have given, he definitely hadn’t expected that. She certainly didn’t carry herself like someone who needed to be taken care of.
Chase heard her clear her throat softly and he looked up. As her eyes met his, she forced a tiny smile. “Favorite food?”
Under different circumstances, he would have refused to answer the question on the grounds that she hadn’t gotten a napkin ball in the cup, but she looked so desperate to move past that little moment that he played along.
“Filet mignon.”
Andie nodded. “Nice.”
“Fantastic,” he corrected before taking a bite of his burger, and for a minute, they both chewed in silence.
“Your turn,” she said.
He felt his brow lift before he righted his expression. After his last question, he hadn’t expected her to want to play anymore. “Okay. Um, favorite…swear word?”
She shook her head. “Don’t have one.”
“Oh come on. There are so many great ones.”
Andie shook her head again, and he said, “I mean, what’s better than a well-used fuck?”
Her eyes widened ever so slightly as she glanced around the nearby tables.
“Stop,” she mouthed.
Chase laughed softly as he cocked his head at her. “What’s your issue with swear words?” She shrugged. “I just think they’re unnecessary. And rude.”
“Why are they rude?”
She tilted her head. “Come on, Chase.”
“I’m serious,” he said, leaning on the table with his forearms. “What makes them rude? Explain to me why poop is not a bad word, but shit is.”
Andie’s lips twitched. “Poop?”
Chase smirked before he said, “You know I’m right. They’re just two different words for the same thing. Why is one bad? I mean, if that’s the case, why isn’t porridge a bad word for oatmeal?”
Andie blinked at him. “Shouldn’t we be passing a joint back and forth while having this conversation?”
Chase burst out laughing, sitting back against the booth. “Do you have one?”
“Not on me, I’m afraid,” she said with a roll of her eyes.
He smiled as he shook his head, picking up his burger and taking another bite. “You know,” he said around his mouthful of food, “you didn’t answer that one, so technically, it should be my turn again.”
She waved her hand over the table, giving him permission to proceed.
Chase thought it over as he chewed. “Favorite saying?” he finally asked.
Andie pursed her lips, looking up at the ceiling, and his eyes automatically dropped to her mouth, noticing how full her lips looked when she did that; he pulled his attention away almost immediately, studying the French fry in his hand as he swirled it through the ketchup on his plate.
“Everything happens for a reason,” she finally said.
“What?” Chase scoffed as his eyes flashed back to hers. “Oh, you’ve got to be kidding me.”
“Why?”
“Because it’s total horseshit,” he laughed. “That’s just some crap people say when something bad happens and they have no way to explain it. It’s a pathetic way to try and make somebody feel better. And if anything, it has the reverse effect.”
Andie shrugged. “I disagree.”
“Anytime anyone has ever said that to me, it just made me want to punch them in the face.”
“That’s because you’re an asshole,” she said matter-of-factly before taking a bite of her sandwich.
Chase’s mouth dropped. “Was that a profane word that just left your mouth?”
“That one was warranted,” she explained, and he smiled.
“Tell you what,” he said, placing his burger on the plate and leaning in on his elbows. “If you can convince me that bullshit saying has any merit, lunch is on me.”
Andie looked at him for a second before she carefully placed her sandwich on the plate. “When you were a kid, did you ever get grounded?”
“Of course I did.”
“What for?”
Chase laughed. “Lots of stuff.”
“Try and remember one specific time.”
He looked up at her; she sat poker faced as she waited for an answer. He had no idea what any of this had to do with anything, but he figured he’d humor her.
“When I was seventeen, my mother found my fake ID.”
Andie smiled. “How long were you grounded?”
“I can’t remember now. A couple of weeks, I think.”
“Were you pissed at her?”
“I’m sure I was.”
“But do you understand why she was upset over you having a fake ID?”
“Of course,” he said, taking another bite of his burger.
“Why was she upset, then? Explain it to me.”
He stopped chewing, lifting his eyes to hers. “What the hell are you doing? Running a guilt trip on me for something I did when I was seventeen?”
“No, I’m just making a point. Why do you think she was so upset?”
Chase exhaled. “Because it was illegal. And the shit I was doing with it was illegal too.”
“So if you understand why she was upset, then why were you mad when she punished you?”
Chase looked at her as if she was crazy. “Because what kid wants to be punished? Plus, at the time, I didn’t think it was such a big deal. Everybody had fake IDs.”
Andie smiled slowly, and he suddenly felt as if he had just stepped into a trap.
“So at the time, you couldn’t understand why your behavior deserved a consequence, and you were angry about receiving one. But now that you’ve grown up, and you have some perspective, you can understand how having a fake ID would get you into trouble, and you probably appreciate the fact that you had a mother who cared about you enough to make sure you were doing the right thing.”
Chase dropped his burger on to his plate. “What’s your point, Andie?”
“All I’m saying is, sometimes things happen, and we don’t see them clearly, either because we’re not at the right point in our life, or we’re too closely involved to understand. But just because we can’t see the reason behind things doesn’t mean there isn’t one.”
Chase felt his back straighten. This conversation was starting to make him angry. “So when people die, when good people die before their time, there’s a reason for that?”
“I don’t know,” Andie said. Her expression turned empathetic as she tilted her head. “It doesn’t seem fair, but…maybe it’s like we’re in our ‘teenage’ years right now, and we’re not able to see the big picture yet. Maybe after we die, it’s like we grow up, and we finally get the perspective we need to understand why things happen in life. Kind of like how you didn’t understand or appreciate you
r mother’s punishment until you became an adult. You see it differently now. You understand. Maybe after we die, it’s like that.”
Chase stared at her and she looked back at him, waiting. There was such openness and sincerity behind her expression, and that look on her face, combined with the words she had just said, suddenly made him feel like there was a lump in his throat.
He cleared it quickly, picking up his burger again. “Shouldn’t we be passing a joint back and forth while having this conversation?” he grumbled.
“Do you have one?”
He looked up to see her smiling at him.
“Not on me, I’m afraid,” he said with a small laugh.
Andie sighed, picking her sandwich up and taking a bite. “Oh, and Chase?”
He lifted his eyes to hers again.
“Will you be paying for lunch with cash, or credit?”
Chase felt a slow smile creep over his lips, and she mirrored his expression before picking up her drink and taking a delicate sip.
He sighed heavily, shaking his head in amusement.
“Cash.”
CHAPTER FIVE
Andie stood at the gas pump, her arms above her head as she twisted to stretch her back. The little beep sounded, signaling that her credit card was approved, and she turned to the pillar where the paper towel dispenser was mounted on the wall. Grabbing a few, she kept them in her hand as she removed the nozzle from the gas pump and inserted it into her gas tank.
Chase exited the small food court in the center of the rest stop with a white plastic bag dangling off his wrist. As he approached the car, he reached in and pulled out a bottle of water, holding it up in offering. She mouthed a thank you, and he nodded in acknowledgment before he slid back into the passenger side.
It was getting late, she thought as she yawned for the third time. She would have to stop soon. She had looked at the map of South Carolina a little while ago; if she could make it another hour or so, they could stop in Yemassee for the night.
A few minutes later, the sharp click of the gas tank reaching capacity snapped her out of it, and she placed the nozzle back on the pump before tossing the paper towels into the trash can. Using her knuckle, Andie pressed the button to decline a receipt and walked around the front of the car before sliding back into the driver’s seat.
Emancipating Andie Page 5
