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Catching Chance

Page 4

by M. E. Parker

I shook my head and tried to stop the full-on smile from spreading across my face. “Holy shit, you’re really jealous. That’s so fucking sweet. You’re killing me, Chance.”

  My hands were folded on the table. He reached out with his index finger and touched my knuckle. It was a soft caress. A barely-there touch. But it was real.

  “I couldn’t stand it. I couldn’t stand the way he looked at you. I couldn’t stand the way he touched you. I couldn’t stand any of it. I’m sorry, Andy. What the fuck’s wrong with me?”

  I laughed. “Nothing.” Shaking my head, I smiled at him. “I’m not sure why it makes me happy that you’re jealous, but it does.” I shrugged. “No one has ever been jealous over me before, but Chance, oh my god, I’m so fucking lost for you.” I cleared my throat. “If you think for a minute, I’d ever want someone other than you, you’re delusional.”

  I wasn’t completely sure, but I thought I saw a tear slip from his right eye. If it was a tear, he quickly dried it away with his shoulder. “I’m fucking lost for you too,” he whispered.

  He grinned and cleared his throat again. “I always thought there were only two gay people in Wytheville.”

  I laughed. “What?”

  He shrugged. “You,” he pointed towards me and then towards his chest, “and me.”

  I laughed again. “Oh my god, queers are everywhere Chance. There might not be a lot of us in Wytheville, but we’re here. What about Frank and Tony?”

  Chance furrowed his eyebrows. “The guys who own the hardware store?”

  “Yeah.”

  “I thought they were brothers.” Chance looked dumbfounded.

  “They are definitely not brothers.” I chuckled, shaking my head at him.

  “But it’s called Parker Brothers Hardware.”

  I laughed again. “They’re not brothers. Think about it. They look nothing alike. There’s also Lucy and Ima Jean.” I took a drink of my beer.

  “The two old ladies that live up on the hill behind your house?” Chance asked in amazement. “I thought they were sisters.”

  I burst out laughing. “Chance, Lucy is black.”

  Chance shrugged. “She could’ve been adopted or Ima Jean could have been adopted. Either way, really.” The sheepish grin on his red face was adorable. I was still laughing when he added, “How could I not see this?”

  “Maybe you didn’t want to,” I said in almost a whisper.

  “Maybe,” he said, fiddling with the label on his beer bottle.

  I looked up at the dirty ceiling tiles and wondered if I’d regret giving my heart to Chance. My answer was, Yes, probably. I was seconds away from asking him to take me home. Not because I wanted to go home, but because I wanted to be alone with him again. But a wrench was thrown into my plans when I heard John Lambert’s voice carry across the bar.

  “Fucking hell. Is that really Chance Wyrick? Chance, dude. What the fuck?” he called out as he walked towards us.

  I held my breath for a second. It was him. It was the guy that called me a “fucking faggot” in high school. I was totally over it. When I remembered that day, I remembered it more as a right of passage than a traumatic experience. I knew that there were people before me that had it much worse than I ever did.

  I looked across the table to Chance. He was clutching his beer bottle so tightly that his knuckles were white. His jaw was clenched.

  “Damn dawg, it is you,” John said, raising a fist to Chance, waiting for a fist bump that would never come. Chance made a fist with his free hand and scooted back in his seat, like he couldn’t get far enough away from the guy.

  “What’s up, Lambert?” he mumbled.

  Before John could respond, a little blonde bounced up behind him. It was Misty White, John’s girlfriend from high school. I hardly recognized her, probably because she was pregnant. So pregnant, that she looked like she might have the child at any moment, right there in the bar.

  “Hey y’all,” she said with a big smile on her face.

  “Hey,” I said, offering her a small smile in return. “Oh my gosh, your daddy’s gonna die when we tell him we saw Chance tonight,” she said, turning to John. “Y’all should hear Jonny’s daddy go on and on about Chance. He’s just convinced you’re gonna go pro. He talks about it all the time,” she said, turning her attention to Chance. Chance shrugged.

  “So how the hell have you been, man?” John asked.

  “Fine,” Chance mumbled, clenching his jaw and looking down at his beer.

  “That was a hell of a game against UNC, wasn’t it?” John looked down at the floor when Chance didn’t respond. The silence was awkward.

  “What are you guys up to tonight?” John asked.

  Chance raised his eyebrows and then his beer. “Just having a beer, man.”

  “Cool. Uh, Misty and I were just over at the bowling alley. Mac’s running out of Bud Light again, so he sent us over to pick up a case from Donovan. Hey, you guys should come over. The guys are all there. They’d get a kick outta’ seein’ ya.” Before Chance could respond, John looked over at me. “Sorry, man,” he said as he extended his hand towards me. “John Lambert. Chance and I played ball together in high school.” I tried my best to keep a straight face. The idiot had no idea who I was.

  I took his hand with a firmer than usual grip and shook it, pasting a fake smile on my face. “Yeah, I know.”

  A confused daze crossed over his face until Misty smacked him on the shoulder.

  “That’s Andy, you goofball.” John shot a questioning glance at Misty. “Andy Michaelson. I swear Johnny, I’m cutting you off tonight.” I watched as the realization hit him.

  “My bad, man,” he said, quickly letting go of my hand. His face turned bright red. He looked at Chance and then looked at me again. I did my best to keep the fake smile plastered on my face.

  “Ignore him, Andy. He’s over his limit for Bud Lights tonight. How you doin’ anyway?”

  “Good. How about you?” I reached up and patted her belly and she laughed. “Well, Johnny here finally knocked me up, as you can see,” she said, rubbing her belly. “We’re gettin’ married this spring after the baby comes. I bet you’re doin’ real good in college. I always figured you’d be a doctor or a scientist or somethin’?”

  I smiled at her. Misty was sweet. I’d always liked her, and she had always been nice to me, but I never understood what she saw in John.

  “I haven’t really decided yet,” I said.

  She patted me on the shoulder. “Well, I know it’ll be somethin’ great. You were always so much smarter than the rest of us. So, are you guys gonna come on over to the bowling alley?”

  I looked over at Chance. He was busy glaring at John, who was looking down at the floor, no doubt still trying to figure out what was going on.

  “I don’t know. Maybe later. We just got our beers,” I said, holding up my beer bottle that was still full.

  Misty looked over at John. “Come on, we’d better get back over to the bowling alley. Mac’s gonna send out a search party if we don’t get the beer over there.”

  John nodded and cleared his throat. “Yeah. Maybe we’ll see you guys later.” Chance was still glaring at John. Clearly, he wasn’t going to respond.

  I managed another fake smile in John’s direction. “Yeah. Maybe. Good to see you guys.”

  John nodded and grinned softly, his face still red. “Yeah. Later, dudes.”

  “Bye,” Misty said, before she grabbed John’s hand to lead him towards the bar, where Donovan had left a case of beer.

  Chance ran his fingers through his hair. “I don’t understand how you can be so nice to that guy.”

  I shrugged. “It’s easy. He means nothing to me.”

  “Well, I hate his guts.” Chance picked up his beer and downed about half of it.

  I shook my head. “It’s a total waste of energy.”

  He shrugged. “Maybe.”

  “You know, in about five minutes, the whole town is gonna know you’re over here having
a beer with me,” I said.

  “So?”

  “It doesn’t bother you?” I asked nervously.

  He furrowed his brow. “No.”

  I looked down at my beer. I didn’t believe him.

  “Andy. No. It doesn’t bother me.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “I’m sure,” he said, smiling at me.

  “Do you want to go over and see them?” I asked.

  “Hell no. Do you?”

  I shook my head and laughed. “Not in the least.”

  “I’m ready for another,” he said, slamming his empty bottle on the table.

  I looked up at him and moved to get up. “I’ll get this round.”

  He put his hand on my forearm. “No. You stay here.” He looked over at Donovan, who was wiping down the bar for no reason.

  I chuckled and cocked my head. “You know, you’re really cute when you get jealous.”

  He rolled his eyes. “Shut it,” he said, before he got up to walk over to the bar.

  Chance was just setting our beers down on the table when two giggling blondes bounded through the door.

  “Hey Donovan!” Becky called out. “We just came to see if the rumors are true.”

  “What rumors, darlin’?” Donovan asked, crossing his arms and leaning against the counter behind the bar.

  Jenny laughed. “We just heard that Chance Wyrick was back in town.” I watched as Donovan nodded towards our booth.

  I smiled up at Chance. “That didn’t take as long as I thought it would.” Chance smiled back at me and shook his head as the screaming girls ran across the bar to tackle Chance. Becky and Jenny were Kara Watkins’ best friends. They were both cheerleaders. One was the homecoming queen. I couldn’t remember which one. The older they got, the more they looked alike.

  I couldn’t remember either one of them speaking to me. Ever. Maybe one of them asked to borrow a pencil back in elementary school. I wasn’t sure. That’s why it was completely weird when Becky looked down at me.

  “Andy Michaelson, you get up here and give me a hug. I don’t think we’ve seen you since graduation.”

  I raised my eyebrows as I stood to give her an awkward one-armed hug.

  “Probably, not,” I said, as Jenny reached between Becky and I and wrapped her arms around my neck.

  “Hey, Andy! It’s great to see you,” she gushed.

  “You too.” I guess.

  “Sit down.” Jenny gestured towards the booth. I did as she asked. “Scoot over.” She commanded as I slid into the booth. Becky slid in beside Chance who didn’t have a choice but to scoot over.

  “Why aren’t you guys over at the bowling alley? Everyone’s over there,” Becky asked, looking at Chance like she wanted to tear off his clothes.

  I know how you feel, I thought.

  Chance shrugged and held up his beer. “Just having a beer,” he said morosely.

  I turned towards Jenny, who I realized, was staring at me. Her eyes drifted from my chest back up to my face.

  “Misty wasn’t lyin’,” she said, glancing towards Becky.

  Becky giggled. “No, she wasn’t.”

  I felt my face heat up. “Lyin’ about what?”

  Becky looked over at Chance. “She said, and I quote, ‘Andy Michaelson has gotten totally hot’.”

  Chance burst out laughing and I crossed my arms as Jenny put her hand on my knee and squeezed. I looked across the table and Chance was smiling at me.

  “Thanks, I guess,” I said, feeling like an idiot.

  “You’re adorable,” Jenny said giggling.

  “Hey Donovan, you got any of those Jello-shooters left?” Becky called out across the bar.

  I watched as he winked at her. “Sorry, darlin’, you cleaned me out last night.”

  “Well, just make us four shooters then.”

  “What kind?” Donovan asked.

  “Surprise me,” she said as she wrapped her arm around Chance’s neck. I watched him struggle to pull away. “You know Kara’s in town?”

  “Yeah?” Chance asked.

  “Yeah. She’s over at the bowling alley. She’s got her new boyfriend with her.”

  “Joel. ‘From Boston’,” Jenny said, using air quotes. I wasn’t sure what the air quotes were for.

  Becky rolled her eyes. “We haven’t decided if we like him yet.”

  “He’s a Yankee,” Jenny said, smiling at me and scrunching up her nose a little.

  “I’m sure he’s a nice guy if Kara’s with him,” I said, glancing at Chance, who offered me a small smile of gratitude.

  “Maybe,” Jenny said, squeezing my knee again. She looked up at me. “I knew those rumors that Shelly started about you senior year weren’t true.”

  I cocked my head. “What rumors?” I knew what she was talking about. I just wanted to hear her say it.

  “Jesus, Jenny.” Becky gasped, laughing out loud.

  “What? Everyone heard them,” she said turning to me. “That you were, you know, gay.”

  I smiled at her. “How do you know the rumors weren’t true?” I looked over at Donovan who was placing four pink-colored drinks on a tray, snickering. He was listening and clearly amused.

  Turning my attention back to Jenny, squirming beside me, I raised an eyebrow and waited. “Well, you’re here,” she said, blushing, “with Chance.”

  I smiled. “We’re allowed to hang out with straight people.” Chance’s laughter carried across the table.

  “Huh?” Jenny asked confused.

  “It’s true,” Chance said.

  “It says so in the handbook,” I teased.

  “What handbook?” Jenny asked, looking even more confused.

  “The gay handbook. We all get one,” I said, matter-of-factly. Chance was still laughing and Donovan had joined in as he walked over to our table, balancing the tray of shooters on one hand.

  “There’s a handbook?” Jenny asked cluelessly.

  “Oh my god, shut up Jenny,” Becky said. “They’re fucking with you.”

  “I’m so confused. So, are you gay or not?” Jenny asked, looking at me.

  “Gay,” I said, nodding slowly at her as I gently moved her hand from my knee.

  “Well, that’s great. We don’t have a problem with it,” Becky said, eyeing Jenny. “Some people in this town may be small-minded, but not us.”

  Jenny smiled, still looking a little bewildered. “It’s true. We don’t. Becky’s Aunt Sue is a lesbian.”

  I couldn’t help but laugh. “Awesome. You should ask her to see the handbook.”

  Jenny cocked her head. “Wait. Is there really a handbook? Ouch!” I looked down and Jenny was rubbing her shin, where Becky had obviously kicked her under the table.

  “What?” she said, grimacing at Becky.

  “He’s fucking with you again.” Jenny turned back to me, ignoring Becky. “So, do you have a boyfriend?”

  “I do,” I said, sneaking a glance at Chance.

  “Does he go to Gilcrest?”

  “Yep.”

  “Is he hot?”

  “Very,” I said looking at Chance, who was still smiling at me.

  “Have you met him?” Becky asked looking at Chance.

  “Yeah. He’s a super nice guy,” Chance said, smiling, as I tried to suppress my laughter.

  “That’s great,” Becky said. “What about you?”

  “What about me?” Chance’s face sobered and I hated it.

  “Are you seeing anyone?”

  Chance nodded. “Yep.”

  “Is it serious?” she asked.

  He nodded again. “I think so,” he said, glancing at me again, managing a small smile.

  Becky looked up at Donovan, standing at our table holding the tray of shooters, still snickering. “Well, are you just gonna stand there all night or are you gonna pass out those shooters?”

  “Sorry,” Donovan said, as he put the shooters down in front of the girls, “I was just entertaining myself with your conversation.”
r />   Becky ignored Donovan and slammed back the shooter, banging the empty glass on the table. “This just proves my point, Jenny. The best ones are either taken or gay.”

  “Or both,” Donovan said as he put the shooters down in front of both of us, flashing a knowing smile. Chance’s face turned bright red. Luckily, Jenny and Becky were oblivious. Donovan put the tray under his arm. “Hey Andy, do you have an extra copy of that handbook I could borrow?”

  I burst out laughing and Chance joined in.

  “Shut up, Donovan. I know you guys are fucking with me. There’s no such thing as a gay handbook,” Jenny said. “I already knew that,” she clarified. Donovan was still laughing as he walked away from the table.

  “Hey Donovan, when are you going to break up with that girlfriend of yours from Asheville? The best girls are homegrown,” Becky called across the bar.

  “Don’t tempt me, Becks,” he replied, turning back to wink at Becky.

  Becky rolled her eyes. “He’s dating some girl named Casey, over in Asheville. I don’t think it’s serious. He’s the biggest flirt in Wytheville.”

  “I noticed that,” Chance said, looking at me. I rolled my eyes. The girls were truly oblivious. Donovan was dating someone named Casey in Asheville, but he was definitely not a girl.

  Chapter Four

  Chance

  As we pulled into Andy’s mother’s driveway that night, the security lights flooded the pavement. I put my truck in park and Andy took off his seatbelt.

  “Text me in the morning?” he asked, reaching for the door.

  I grabbed his arm. “Wait.”

  “Why?”

  I ran my thumb over his bicep. “This is the softest sweater I’ve ever felt,” I said, feeling stupid.

  He chuckled. “It should be.”

  “Huh?”

  “Nothing. Mom gave it to me for Christmas.”

  “It looks good on you.”

  Andy shifted in his seat to face me. “You okay?”

  “Yeah.”

  He studied my face for a second. “Okay. Well, I guess I’ll talk to you in the morning?”

  I shook my head. “No. We’re waiting.”

  Andy cocked his head. “Waiting for what?”

  I cleared my throat. “Waiting for the security lights to go off so I can kiss you. I’ve been dying to do it since you came through my parent’s front door tonight.”

 

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