Chapter Five
“I hate everything.” Mia sulked on the family room sofa, holding her injured foot out awkwardly to the side. It was all taped up and immobilized, but it still hurt un chingo. Maybe she should have taken that prescription instead of being noble and strong and leaving the bottle of pills in the bathroom.
A little medication would probably help out right now.
“No, you don’t,” Jessie said, handing her a glass of water from the kitchen. “You hate being sidelined, and you hate being hurt. You probably hate being the center of the Sapphire Falls gossip mill at the moment. Other than that, you’re pretty much a ray of sunshine twenty-four/seven.”
“Okay, yeah.” That was the problem with being friends with people your entire life. They knew you far too well for your own good.
Or at least your own pity party.
Wait. “Gossip mill?” Her stomach plummeted to the floor. She should have seen this coming.
“Gorgeous movie star heroically carries local teacher to safety after injury,” Jessie said, sketching out the words in the air.
“That’s a terrible headline. Way too long,” groused Mia.
Jessie ignored her. “You didn’t think that would spread like wildfire? Especially after you danced with him last night?”
“I was hurt. He just happened to be there when it happened. Anyone would have done the same.”
Her best friend burst out laughing. “Sure, sell me another one. I can just see Bernadette hauling you down the street to the doctor’s office.”
Mia tried to fight the smile that threatened at that image.
“So tell me everything. What happened after he took you to see Dr. Ames?”
“Nothing. Well, he brought me home. And took my final script to the auditorium so the kids could rehearse.”
“Without you there? You know they can’t use school facilities without supervision.”
Dammit. She hadn’t even thought of that when she’d sent Chase. The injury must have distracted her more than she’d thought. “I gave Chase the key to let them in,” she said. “I hope they don’t get in trouble for using it without an adult supervising.”
“Who said they didn’t have supervision?” Chase stood in the just-opened doorway, arms full of grocery bags. “I may not be everyone’s number-one choice, but I am an adult. And I know my way around the theater.”
“Chase. What are you doing here?” Mia’s heart raced, and she could feel a flush creeping up her neck.
Jessie gave her the look. “Hi, Chase, nice to see you again.” She took the grocery bags away from him. “I’ll put these in the kitchen for you.” As she left the room, she widened her eyes at Mia in a talk-to-him-already sort of way.
“I told you I’d be back with dinner,” he said with a shrug. “But it looks like Jessie already beat me to it. Knew I should have left the kids to their own devices.”
“No, thank you for covering for me.” She shifted a little on the couch. “Way above and beyond the call of duty.”
“Hey, I caused your injury. The least I can do is cover for you at rehearsal for a day.” He dropped her keys on the coffee table.
“Wait, you caused the injury?” Jessie walked back into the room and smacked Mia gently on the shoulder. “How come you never tell me anything?”
“He didn’t cause anything,” Mia said, shooting Chase a glare. “I tripped over a tree root.”
“When I distracted you,” he added.
Jessie looked from one to the other. “Somehow, I have a feeling I’m not going to get the whole story today. I’m heading out. Looks like Chase here has dinner covered.”
“You don’t have to go,” Mia said, but Jessie was already shaking her head.
“I’ll see you later. Maybe then you can fill me in on how Chase here distracted you.” Blowing a kiss at Mia, she backed out of the house and shut the front door behind her.
“Sorry about that,” Chase said, not looking sorry in the least. He clapped his hands together. “So. Dinner?”
“You are infuriating,” Mia grumbled, her heartbeat already accelerating at the thought of spending even more one-on-one time with him. “Seriously. Do you ever take no for an answer?”
He paused, cocking his head to the side. “Sometimes. If we’re talking about consent, absolutely.”
Wait. Consent? Mia felt like all the air had just been sucked out of the room. She could imagine.
“On the other hand, if we’re talking about taking care of someone who is stubborn and refuses to admit she needs help, that’s a different story.”
“I had help,” she shot back, waving a hand at the front door. “And you just chased her away.”
“The least I can do is make you dinner.”
Mia sighed. “Chase, you don’t have to feel guilty.”
“Guilty and responsible are two different things. Besides, I can’t wait to tell you all about play practice.”
He knew how to tempt her, the jerk. "How did it go? Were the kids okay? Sometimes they can get a little crazy. Did they like the new script? What about –"
“Dinner first. How do you feel about pasta?”
“Love it. But you’re not running wild in my kitchen without supervision.”
Chase strode over to the couch and lifted her into his arms. “Deal.”
*
Chase settled Mia into a chair at the kitchen table. “You good?”
She nodded. “This is above and beyond, Chase. I would be perfectly happy with a frozen dinner.”
He stared at her in mock offense. “You’ll eat your words as soon as you taste my world-famous pasta.”
“Duly noted.” She leaned back as he got to work, resting her injured ankle on the chair opposite.
Mia directed him to the kitchen equipment he needed, then settled back to watch the show.
“So you stayed for play practice, huh? You didn’t have to do that.” At his pointed look, she amended, “Well, okay, I guess you did. But it was still really nice of you.”
“That’s me. Mr. Nice.” He rolled his eyes. “Not like I have a whole hell of a lot to do these days, so I figured it was the least I could do.”
“Chase.” She leaned forward. “You took me to the doctor’s. You brought me home. You took the script to the auditorium and then stuck around so the kids could practice. Now you’re making me dinner.”
“So?”
“So I don’t think you have any clue what the words ‘the least I could do’ mean.”
He waved the compliment away. “You’re injured. If you are unable to fulfill your responsibilities because of that, why wouldn’t I want to make sure it’s taken care of? Whether it’s play practice or dinner.”
“Fine. But I’ll be at practice tomorrow.”
“You can’t run rehearsal on a bad ankle.”
“Dios mio, Chase, I don’t need a healthy ankle to sit on my butt in the auditorium and watch the students run their lines and blocking.” The man was worse than her mother. Thank the saints that papá had taken her to Mexico to visit Mia’s auntie for the month, or she’d have two overbearing people hovering over her every move.
“I know you, Mia. First missed entrance, you’ll be halfway down the aisle telling them what to do and where to go. That’s no way to heal.”
“Yeah, right.” She scowled. “You got a better idea? Our performance is on Saturday.”
He checked the pot, put the lid on so it would boil faster, and turned back around. “I take you to rehearsal and help out. I can be your feet.”
“You are not carrying me around in front of my students. I have a reputation to uphold.”
“One, Emme saw me carrying you earlier today. I think that reputation is shot. Two, I meant that I could be your assistant director. Do the moving-around stuff you can’t. Besides, it was fun today. You’ve got great kids.” He looked in one of his grocery bags. “Veggies in the sauce or on the side?”
“You’re the chef, it’s your call,” she said. “And thanks. I think they’re pretty awesome too.”
“Liked your script too.”
“It’s pretty basic.”
He glanced over at her. “I’m serious. It’s a good show. I’d be happy to be a part of it, even temporarily.” He lifted the lid on the pot, which was finally boiling, and added the fresh pasta.
“Bonnie and Clyde, together again,” she said.
“Laurel and Hardy.”
“Lucy and Ethel.”
“Statler and Waldorf.”
“Fine, but I get to be Waldorf. He always got the best lines.”
It was so…easy. Like they’d never left off their friendship all those years ago. In some ways, it was even better now, because he wasn’t a stupid kid ignoring what was right in front of him all along.
Abruptly, Chase realized they were sitting in her kitchen grinning at each other like idiots, and dinner was not getting made. He set about chopping the rest of the veggies up, then tossed them in the steamer for a minute or two.
“Looks fancy,” she said.
“Nah. I have about six meals in my repertoire, and four of them are grilled. But since pretty much everyone I know in Hollywood is vegan or vegetarian or some variation of the two, this is my main go-to dish.”
“No barbecue?”
He sighed heavily. “Combination of an apartment without a patio and no one to eat a really quality steak with.”
“Well, when I’m back on my feet, I’ll cook you a steak dinner that will make you cry.”
“You’re on.”
*
Chase sat back with a groan and pushed his plate away. “I ate too much.”
Mia gave him a look, then leaned over and speared the last piece of broccoli on his plate. “Well, I’m not letting this go to waste.”
He smiled at her as she finished off the remnants of their meal. Crazy how they’d managed to pick up their friendship right where they’d left off.
Maybe not exactly where they’d left off. They weren’t currently kissing.
God, he’d been such an idiot. He’d stopped her from kissing him? What the hell had been wrong with him back then?
There was a dot of spaghetti sauce on her bottom lip. If he leaned over, he could kiss it clean.
But, no, he’d forfeited that right when he’d set her aside and politely but condescendingly told her he wasn’t interested.
In front of the entire graduating class.
“You’ve got a little something,” he said instead, pointing at his own mouth.
She fumbled for her napkin and wiped it clean. “Thanks,” she said. Then she propped her elbow on the table and rested her chin in her hand. “So tell me.”
“Tell you what?”
“About Hollywood. What it’s like being a star.”
He laughed a little, wondering if she could hear the bitter tone that underlay the sound. “I’m hardly a star.”
“You’re the biggest star Sapphire Falls has ever produced,” she argued sweetly.
“It’s not a high bar.” He tossed his napkin on the table. “Now, if you had gone to Hollywood, it would probably be a different story.”
She scoffed. “Yeah, right.”
“Come on, Mia. You and I both know you were so much more talented than me.”
“You’re being ridiculous.”
He crossed his arms. “I bet if you asked every person in this town, they’d say the same thing. You were magic on stage, Mia. Everyone knew it. Why didn’t you ever pursue it?”
“Seriously? I knew the odds of making it as an actor are ridiculously low. Throw in being Hispanic? Even harder.”
“Talent should matter more,” he argued.
“Yeah, should. But come on. What kind of parts would I get? Maid, waitress, drug-runner's girlfriend? How many Latina actresses are even considered for the romantic lead or the hotshot detective? It’s not like they’d be beating down the doors to offer me starring roles. All I can say is Lin-Manuel better start writing faster.”
“So maybe you should be there, ready when the opportunity arises.” Why was he trying to convince her? He knew how much sway stereotypes held in Hollywood. Hell, he was being typecast just on the basis of a previous role. What right did he have to tell her it wasn’t a valid concern?
“Anyway, it doesn’t really matter. I’m still in theater.”
He sat back. “You’re a high school drama teacher in your hometown. A damn good one, as far as I can tell. But when was the last time you were in the spotlight?”
Mia bit her lip. “Junior year in college. I had the lead in Arcadia. I loved that show.”
“Wish I could have seen it.”
She toyed with her napkin, tearing little shreds off it. “But then the education classes got more serious, and I didn’t have time for both. I needed to be practical.”
Chase swallowed. He was simultaneously sad for and jealous of her. “Well, fame and fortune isn’t all it’s cracked up to be,” he joked lamely.
“You’re living the dream though, aren’t you? Getting to act for a living. I always thought…”
Her voice trailed off, and she looked away. He waited a moment or two before prompting her. “You thought what?”
“It’s silly.” She picked at the little shreds of napkin dotting the tablecloth. “I just thought that someday I’d be able to do that too. But I suppose it’s like being a pro athlete. Hundreds of thousands of kids work their hearts out in high school, then a few thousand make it to play in college, and maybe a couple dozen each year go pro and make a living at it.”
“And when they blow out their knee, that career is gone. It’s not all roses.”
Sometimes, he felt like he’d gone through the acting equivalent of blowing out his knee. The jobs had dried up, his agent stopped calling, friends had moved on, until he’d found himself not renewing his lease and running home to reevaluate his life.
Not that he’d told anyone that was the impetus behind his surprise visit. Better they thought he was dropping in on a whim between contracts.
Inside though, it felt like a midlife crisis. Which was pretty pathetic for a guy who hadn’t even hit his thirtieth birthday yet.
He had to get out of here before he turned their conversation into a therapy session. If he needed that, he could go to an overpriced Hollywood shrink. “We should probably call it a night,” he said.
Was that a look of disappointment on her face? It was gone in a flash, but he sure hoped he was right.
“Thanks for everything,” she said. “Dinner, keeping me company, all of it.”
“My pleasure,” he said simply, because it was true. “Okay, beautiful, time for me to take you to bed.”
She stared at him. He thought back over what he’d said.
“I meant upstairs. To your bedroom.” For now. “You shouldn’t try to navigate stairs yet.”
“I—okay.” She swallowed. “You can help me get upstairs.”
He put the last of the dishes in the dishwasher and wiped off the table. Then he swung her into his arms again.
As he carried her up the steps to her bedroom, he wished it was for a very different reason.