by Ava Harrison
“At first my parents were pissed. Royally pissed. But in the end, they let me. Money was never an issue. I had my trust that kicked in when I turned eighteen. I didn’t really need their permission.” He raises his hands and runs them through his hair as he speaks.
“Where did you go?”
“I think the better question is where didn’t I go. I went everywhere. I learned how to climb. I traveled the world, and I shot pictures of everything. I realized that the life they wanted for me wasn’t what was intended for me. Traveling and sharing the beauty, that’s what my life was meant to be.”
“Wow, Chase. That’s amazing.”
“Thanks.” I stare at him as he answers. He seems proud, and it makes me wish I could do something I loved that would make me feel proud, too.
“Will you do me a favor and stand perfectly still?”
“Why?”
“Will you just trust me already? You’re going to like this.” He laughs, and then his expression grows more serious.
He places the camera in the crook of my neck. My fingers begin to tremble as his breath tickles my neck. It’s like a soft whisper. My lips part. His heart beats against my back. The steady cadence only makes mine pick up. What is he doing?
Snap
Snap
“What are you doing?”
“Taking a picture, of course.”
“I can hear you taking a picture, but why and of what?” I attempt to keep my head perfectly still so I don’t bump the camera sitting in the groove between my neck and my right shoulder.
“The view from up top, and I’m taking it this way—” He stops and seems to be thinking through his answer, but all he gives me is a simple, “Because I can.”
“You’re taking it from my neck, because you can?”
“Yup, from your neck . . . because I can.” I furrow my brows. Sometimes he’s so weird. But he makes me feel things I haven’t felt in a long time.
He makes me believe in more.
He makes me believe in hope.
When he’s around a calm falls over me. He gives me peace.
Lord.
This man . . . he’s dangerous to me.
He makes me feel alive.
As if reading my thoughts again, he pulls away, and our eyes lock. The camera dislodges from my neck. Our breaths come in tandem. Our faces are so close I can smell the light peppermint from the gum he’s chewing. His hand pulls a strand of hair that has fallen forward. As he twists it in his fingertips, his pupils dilate, and he leans forward. His lips begin to descend toward mine. But all I see is Parker. He surrounds me. His words fill me.
“Chase, I can’t. There’s someone—” I stutter, but stop myself before I say any more. His head jerks back. My words seem to slice through him. His eyes flash. Sadness radiates off him. I don’t know why I said that. But being with him—although it feels right—feels as though I’m hurting Parker. As much as I want to move on, Parker is rooted in my memory.
Chase’s eyes have darkened at my words. His face has turned pale. I swear I even feel frost blowing through him. A moment later, a pained look that I can’t comprehend crosses his face. Anguish? His eyes appear to glass as he steps away from me, leaving me chilled from his absence. It makes no sense. He barely knows me. Why is he so hurt?
The silence stretches as the seconds pass. He squints, and his lips purse. His whole attention is focused on me. His mouth opens to speak, but hangs open as if searching for the right words to say. Nothing comes out. He just shakes his head, turns and kneels on the dirt. I see him refocus his camera and begin to shoot again. What just happened? This is more than rejection. The thought makes my legs tremble, and I’m not sure how to fix it or fix him. My heart sinks knowing that I might have hurt him.
About thirty minutes later, Chase walks back to where I’m sitting on the grass. His face is still tight. Looking at him makes my heart wrench. It was never my intention to hurt him. I need to talk to him, I need to explain why I pulled away.
“Chase.” My voice is low. When he doesn’t turn, I wonder if he can hear me.
“Chase, can I talk to you for a second?” I twist the small gold band around my right ring finger.
“Yeah.” He turns toward me, his bottom lip caught between his teeth.
“I just wanted to—”
“No need. I was wrong to do that.” I step closer, his face near mine. His deep breaths gently tickle my cheek.
“It’s not that I don’t want to. I just—”
“It’s really not a big deal.” He turns and squats. He lifts his camera to his eye, but I can’t miss the hurt and sadness still present in his gaze. I inhale and breathe through the pain of knowing I put that sadness there.
Toxic.
I cross my arms in front of my body.
Always toxic.
Staring across the distance, I see a damask rose. A touch of pink. A splash of white. Words I wrote so long ago to describe a similar flower. Feels like just yesterday when I used to write poetry.
What the hell is this?” she asked in slurred words. “My castle in the sky.” Her voice was taunting. The words came out lazy and jumbled, blending together. Her speech is obviously impaired as she crumpled the paper I spent hours working on. The paper that held a piece of my bleeding soul. She threw it into the trash and stumbled out of the room. Retrieving it, I held it in my little fingers as I heard a knock at the door and the sound of the door opening. Delia my housekeeper greeted the guest and I heard the familiar sound of Park’s voice as he thanked her and entered the room.
“What you got there, baby girl?”
“Nothing.” My lip quivers as I stepped back to put some distance between his question and me.
“Let me see.” His hand reached out, and I crossed my arms in defiance.
“No.”
“Come on, Ari. You have no secrets from me, right?” I let out a sigh and handed him the paper. As he unwadded the ball that my mom had formed, the noise scratched at my ears. The sound was almost deafening as I waited for his response.
“Did you write this?” He cupped my face in his hands. “Don’t ever stop. Okay, Ari?”
“Okay, Parker.”
Lifting my long waves up into a knot, I secure it on top of my head, and then tuck the loose strands behind my ears. A breeze tickles my neck, making my whole body shudder.
“Hey,” I hear from behind me. Sighing deeply, I turn my body to face him, and my arms fall to my side when I see a smile line his face. Whatever was eating at him before has passed. I can’t stand having any distance between us, and I’m ecstatic to see he has let it go.
As the day draws to a close, I notice Chase glance down at his watch.
“It’s time, Aria. We’re heading to the island of Ischia tonight so we can make port. Luciano is expecting us before sundown. We really need to head back.”
As we make our way back down the mountain, I watch as the sun meets the horizon, bright vibrant colors spreading across the ocean in front of us.
Dear Park,
What an adventure my life has turned into. You’d be so proud. Not only did I take your advice, but also I do believe I’ve excelled at it. Today was extraordinary. For the first time in forever, I didn’t let my fear take over. Today I climbed to the top of a mountain. Or, as Chase called it, a large hill. It was a mountain in my mind, and I conquered it. I can’t tell you the feelings I had when I made it to the top. I felt like I could conquer the world! I owe that to you and Chase. You’d like Chase. He really has opened my eyes. He makes me see that I can hope for more. He kind of reminds me of you.
Miss you more than you know,
Ari.
I lay the postcard down and look over the words I wrote. “You’d be so proud.” He would be, and it reminds me of the last time I did something to make Parker proud of me.
“I’m so proud of you, Ari.” Joy radiated off me as my face lit up brighter than the rising sun seeing Parker standing there. He stepped closer and placed one ha
nd on my back. His finger began to trace circles. My lashes fluttered as I looked into his crystal blue eyes, hoping to find what I was looking for. Praying his eyes reflected what I felt. Love. But all I saw was friendship. I felt my shoulders tighten at the revelation.
“Owen would be really proud of you, too,” he said as he handed me back the diploma. My eyes softened. “You think?”
“I know.”
The memory brings about feelings I’ve held back for a long time. Confusion filters through me, but I shake it away as I realize that something seemingly impossible has occurred. I went on this trip for Parker, but now I want to do this for myself. I realize how much Chase has impacted my life in such a short time. It’s been so gradual, I hardly realized the difference until now. But reading back my words, one thing has become apparent.
Chase Porter is breathing new life into me.
Thirty-five days since I spoke to Parker
Seven days since I met Chase
YESTERDAY WAS A TURNING point for me. Standing on the summit of the mountain opened my eyes to everything Parker had been trying to say to me all those days ago. As much as I wish he were here with me, deep down I know this journey can only be taken with Chase. There’s something about him that’s comforting, refreshing, and familiar. He reminds me a lot of Parker, just a little more spiritual. He makes me see this huge, magnificent picture that I was blind to before him.
I awaken this morning feeling happy and excited to see where the day will take me. This is a new feeling. My heart pounds with excitement. I can’t stop thinking of the way Chase looks at me. The way his hands feel when he touches me, and how special he makes me feel.
Last night we dropped anchor off the island of Ischia. Only a few miles off the coast of Italy, it was a secluded paradise—the secret gem of the Amalfi Coast. Hidden away and only accessible by private boat.
A tiny beam of sunlight peeks in through the portal in my cabin. I smile. A true, honest to God smile. After stretching my arms and yawning to dispel the morning sleep still harboring inside me, I have to ‘hit the head’ and then freshen up. Looking at myself in the mirror, I stare in horror and laugh. Chase cannot see me like this. Since when do I care what Chase thinks of how I look? And in that moment, I realize I do care. I care a lot, and although that feeling originally scared me, it doesn’t scare me now. It excites me. My cheeks turn a soft shade of crimson. I have a big crush on Chase Porter.
I make my way into the salon and find Chase reclined on the white sofa, his head resting against the pillow. His eyes are closed. I cough once to signal my presence, and when his eyes catch mine, they sparkle so brightly they take my breath away.
“Hi.” It was almost a whisper.
“Hey, you’re up early.” His lips part so broadly, it melts me. Good to know I’m not alone in my excitement.
“The sun was streaming in and woke me.”
“That will happen. Do you want me to make you some breakfast?”
“You don’t have to do that.”
“I know I don’t have to, but I still want to.”
“But your food is poison.” I wink.
“I don’t think it’s too hard to splatter a little Nutella on a piece of toast.”
“In that case, I would love some.”
“Okay, great. Let’s go.” He stands and brushes a single kiss against my forehead, then takes my hand in his and leads me into the galley. Goosebumps form across my arms, my body responding immediately to the gentle kiss and my hand being enclosed in his.
I watch from the table as Chase prepares my breakfast. His long, lean body works in precision as if he’s creating a masterpiece. As I sit there and stare, I’m hungry— ravenous—but not for food. In such a short period of time I went from wanting to keep him at a distance to seeking him out every day constantly. I hunger to know more about him. The need to know everything grows immensely inside me. Every time we speak, I feel as though he’s helping me not only unlock another piece of the puzzle of who he is, but also of who I am and who I want to be. My eyes trail his movements. I once thought that guilt would consume me for having these feelings. That I shouldn’t want him. But that’s not how I feel at all.
He leans forward, and I suck in air as his finger lifts to swipe away Nutella that has collected on my lip. His hand slowly falls away from my face and I watch as his fingers trace his lips. My breathing stops.
“You’re delicious.” His gaze rakes my body and smolders like two burning embers.
My body heats.
My heart pounds.
I want to lunge for him.
I want to kiss him.
He looks at me, and everything becomes clear. The curtain has been lifted. He wants this as badly as I do.
So why don’t I jump into his arms and make him consume me? Because I don’t deserve this. I don’t deserve him. If I let him in . . . I’ll crush him.
Just like I did Parker.
No. I won’t go there again. I can’t hurt anyone else. This is the only way.
Nothing can happen.
I tell myself this, but not one part of me believes it.
We step out on deck, and the morning air is chilly on my skin. My arms instinctively wrap around myself and are then replaced by two strong and firm ones. I peer up to find Chase looking down at me. His arms enclose me.
“Want me to grab you a sweater?” I shake my head.
“I’ll be okay, plus I have you to keep me warm.” My eyebrow rises suggestively. Where the hell did that come from?
“That you do. That you do.” His hands slide up and down my arms, causing the friction to warm my body further. My breaths of the cool air become short and shallow. I will myself to calm at his close proximity. My visceral reaction tells me to run. Run far and run fast. Instead, I continue to breathe through the panic.
“What’s the plan today?” I ask as his soft fingers make circles across my forearm.
“I made arrangements to go to a local vineyard, followed by the best lunch you will ever eat. You ready to see this island?”
“Sounds fun. Thanks for doing all this. For planning everything.”
“It’s really my pleasure.” His eyes focus on the water, and I watch him. Take him in. He’s so beautiful it makes me lose focus on everything but him. What’s really beautiful about Chase is not just his looks but also everything else that makes up the man who stands before me. As if he senses me staring, he turns his head and smiles down at me. A knowing smile. A smirk. Then he turns back and continues to stare into the dark abyss gently lapping below us, once more consumed by his own thoughts.
We arrive at the private vineyard a little after eleven. Stepping out of the cab, I walk toward the wrought iron gates.
“A bit early to drink.” I look up at Chase, and with a tip of his head, he motions for me to enter the courtyard.
“Never too early to get a bit frisky.” He offers me a devastating smile. Even the white of his teeth dazzles me. I’m sure he can hear my sudden intake of breath as a devilish look creeps into his eyes. Something is brewing between us. I sense it in every look, in every touch, and I no longer know if I have the strength to stop it.
“Want to sit down over here?” He points to a table overlooking the vines. Tilting my head up, I peer at him and nod then turn away, taking in my surroundings. Lush green, rolling hills, and olive groves fan the property. It stretches out like a quilt of green and gold, a pattern so intricate and beautiful it takes my breath away. The sun is radiant in the distance. The perfect backdrop to an afternoon drink. Just then, a woman with wavy red hair strides through the courtyard toward us. Her fiery locks float in the wind. When she arrives at our table, she gives us a casual nod and pours two glasses of a light wine. I lift the glass to my mouth for a sip. It’s fruity and refreshing. The smell is heavenly.
Chase leans back into his chair, sipping the liquid contentedly. I turn my attention back to the sommelier that’s offering us an explanation of the wine we are tasting in broken Engli
sh. She rustles her hands through the unusual layers of her dress. Blood red tulle flaps lightly against neon yellow silk. “I shall get some light snacks. If you need anything, I’m Pia.”
“Thank you, Pia. This is Chase, and I’m Aria.”
“How beautiful, Aria. It’s very fitting.” She makes a slight gesture toward me before placing the bottle down on the table.
“Yes, it is,” Chase, agrees as his eyes find mine. I raise my brow at him in question.
“Your name—Aria—in Italian, means air. Look at you. You’re like a beautiful, refreshing breeze that I know will pass shortly.” If he only knew how accurate his words were.
As we sit in the vineyard sipping glasses of Pinot Grigio, Chase decides it’s a perfect time to play our game again, offering up twenty questions. I wasn’t aware this was ‘our game,’ but I go with it since I love the idea of finding out everything about him.
“Favorite movie?” Chase asks first, kicking off the game.
“Heathers?” I reply.
“I can see that. You are totally the type.” His eyes gleam with mischief.
“Are you saying I’m crazy?” My eyes narrow, but I can’t stop my lips from betraying me and turning up into a smile.
“No, just the dark, brooding type.” He laughs.
“Whatever. I’m so not. What about you? Let me guess. The Godfather?”
“Think I’m that predicable? For your information my favorite is Field Of Dreams.”
“Of course it is. I forgot you’re existential and shit. Okay. My turn. Favorite singer?” I stick out my neck and mock him.
“Ol’ Blue Eyes.”
“God, really? Who are you, a seventy-year-old man?”
“Princess, I can promise you I’m not.” His eyes light up as he raises an eyebrow at me. I shake my head and roll my eyes. “Okay, there, killer. Next.”
“No, you go first.”
“Fine. Adele.”
“Hmmm. First Date?”
I’m frozen in place knowing I need to answer, but a memory flashes through my mind from a few years back.
If crying were a job, I would win the award for best employee after I sat on the front steps of my house with tears streaming down my face.
