CHAPTER SIXTEEN
“It’s, like, one picture. Are you really that big of a douche?” Miss Too Tight Shirt said, giving us an ugly look and crossing her arms.
“He’s not a douche,” I retorted, ready to yank out some extensions if necessary.
But our confrontation quickly ended as her actions emboldened the people around us. There were autograph books thrust at Chase, flashes from phones going off, and cell phones being held up, recording us. Girls were screaming and crying, and others started reaching for him, tearing at his shirt. Chase looked panicked. I ducked my head and rummaged through my purse until I found my keys. I yanked them out and blew my rape whistle, hoping Braden would hear. If he didn’t, I was going to use the Mace attached to my key ring to get everyone out of our way.
More and more people surrounded us. We were literally being mobbed.
Braden appeared, along with three other cast members, who made an opening for Chase and me. We were led through another employee-only door, which Braden slammed shut.
Chase’s shirt was torn in several places. His fans had treated him like a piece of meat, there for them to grab and harass. He leaned against the wall, breathing hard. “Are you okay?” he asked me.
Me? My clothing was intact. “I’m completely fine. Are you okay? That was crazy.”
He nodded, trying to catch his breath. It had to have been worse for him. I felt shaky and nauseated, and I wasn’t the one they wanted attention from.
Braden kept apologizing, but Chase wouldn’t let him. “It wasn’t your fault. This could have happened to me anywhere. I should have remembered to put on my hat and sunglasses after the ride finished. I was . . .” His eyes wandered over to me. “Distracted.”
Now I felt even worse. “I’m sorry.”
“You have nothing to apologize for. That’s not what I meant. None of this was your fault, either.” Having composed himself, Chase pushed off the wall. “I probably need to buy a new shirt, but do you want to head over to California Adventure?”
That was the Disney park directly across from the Magic Kingdom. My phone started beeping frantically. I had forgotten I had set up a Google Alert with Chase’s name. It sent me link after link of pictures and posts on social media about how he was at Disneyland. Everyone in the world knew where he was right then. He wouldn’t be able to keep a low profile any longer. I showed him my screen. “Maybe we should go home.”
He nodded and took me by the hand. It was amazing how right it felt to hold hands with him. To lace my fingers through his. Like this was how it was supposed to be. Braden escorted us out the way we’d come in, still trying to apologize, but Chase told him, “This is on me. I should have brought security. I was just hoping I could have one normal day.” He sounded so sad I wanted to hug him.
Braden walked us all the way back to Chase’s car. Chase opened the door for me, and I saw him hand Braden a very big tip. Chase let out a deep breath when he got into the driver’s seat, and he took a moment before turning the key and starting the car.
Once we were clear of the parking lot, he reached over and took my hand, and that feeling of rightness, of being where I belonged, returned. “Do you want to come over and hang out?”
“Yes.” I didn’t even let myself think about it. I didn’t want to leave him yet.
Half an hour later, we went through an In-N-Out drive-through, and Chase smiled as the cashier about peed her pants when she saw whose order she had just filled. I tried to give him my debit card, but he wouldn’t take it. He pulled his wallet out and passed some cash to the girl. The workers at the second window were expecting us, and they crowded behind the teenager handing us our food. Chase thanked her, and she looked like she was about to start crying.
“Eat now or at home?” he asked, handing me the bags of food.
“Home.” I almost started babbling about how I knew he hadn’t meant it was my home and that I wasn’t trying to imply anything or move things along too quickly by thinking of his house as home, but I stopped. He didn’t look scared by my answer, so I decided not to make a big deal out of it.
Plus, I didn’t want him to let go of my hand, because he probably would have needed it to eat and drive at the same time.
He didn’t let go until we got to his place. He excused himself to go upstairs and grab another shirt while I put the bags of food on the kitchen counter. Not even a minute later, Chase came back downstairs, putting his new shirt on and giving me the full visual of his delicious abs before he covered them. I tried not to frown. He grabbed the bags off the counter and took them into the family room, where he set them on the coffee table. He flopped down on his couch and rubbed his eyes. He looked worn out. I figured I should probably let him rest. “Do you want me to call an Uber?”
Chase sat up, giving me a weak smile. “No. I want you to stay.”
I couldn’t tell if he meant it or if he was just being polite. I decided to take him at his word and handed him his food. We ate in silence, but it was a comfortable one.
He finished way before I did, used a napkin, and threw it in the bag. “Earlier this week they messengered over a movie I filmed a while ago that hasn’t been released yet. It’s called The Storm. Interested?”
That made me sit up straight. “Absolutely.”
“Normally I don’t like watching myself.”
I totally got that. I didn’t like hearing myself on somebody else’s voice mail.
“But this was the first thing I filmed after rehab. I want to see how it turned out. I’ve been waiting to watch it with you.”
Aw. My heart fluttered. He was seriously the cutest.
He used his universal remote to queue up the move and turn off the lights. I put my uneaten food back in the bag. I wanted to give this my full attention. I knew a little bit about it already. He played a Maine fisherman who dreamed of going to college but gave it all up to take over his family’s fishing business. His character ended up in one of the worst storms on record, and he refused to tell me whether his character survived. “You’ll have to wait and see.”
Just like last time, Chase made comments and told me anecdotes about filming. Like how he had done all his own underwater stunts and how in each of those scenes he had been surrounded by a team of divers with oxygen, ready to swim in and save him if something bad happened.
On the screen, the first massive wave appeared and knocked him off his ship and into the ocean.
“You’re holding your breath,” he observed.
I let it out. “Okay, I know it’s weird, but whenever I watch a movie like this and someone goes underwater, I hold my breath to see if I would have survived.”
“It’s not weird. I do that, too. But I almost died watching Finding Nemo.”
That made me laugh harder than I had all day. He grinned and reached out for my hand, then pulled it to his lap. He didn’t put his arm around me, didn’t pull me closer, but each circle he rubbed with his thumb on the inside of my palm sent a shiver down my back.
Then he shot me one of those sexy smirks, like he knew exactly what effect he had on me. I tried to focus on the movie.
It ended with his character being the only survivor and deciding to go to college to pursue his dreams, after all, since so many of his friends and family members had permanently lost their chance to do more with their lives.
He paused the credits, and I tried to wipe away tears with my free hand before he noticed.
“Hashtag better than Octavius?” he teased.
“Definitely hashtag better than Octavius. You were amazing.”
He squeezed my hand. “That means more to me than any professional review.” He kept the room in the dark, and I wondered if he wanted us to watch another movie. It would have to be something lighter, though. I had been fighting off sobs for the past hour. “Do you regret today?”
What? “Are you kidding me? Today was . . . incredible.” I wanted to say more, but I stopped. Until it occurred to me that maybe the reason he was holding back was because I held back. Maybe it was time to break the cycle. “It was easily one of the best days of my life.”
He looked surprised. “Even with the crowd chasing us?”
“Even then.” Probably because I’d been with him.
“Some women haven’t . . . liked that about me.”
It wasn’t like it was his fault people were crazy. “Everybody’s got something, right? Some guys go out to a bar every night. Others play golf all day Saturday. Or have to watch ‘the game’ all the time. Or participate in Fight Club. This is your thing. Being mauled by random strangers.”
That got me a half smile. “I was really worried about you getting hurt today.”
“I was worried about you. With good reason.”
“I think I might have been scratched.” He turned the lights on and let go of my hand to yank off his shirt. He turned his back toward me. “Do you see anything?”
Did I see anything? Only the most masculine and magnificent display of broad shoulders and back muscles known to womankind. I reminded myself that I was supposed to be looking for injuries, not fantasizing about leaning forward to press kisses against his tanned skin. I noticed some freckles and a couple of scars but nothing recent. “All clear. Nobody drew blood.” My voice sounded small.
He put his shirt back on, and I wanted to pout with disappointment. He grabbed my hand again, like he hadn’t wanted to let go in the first place.
“Speaking of today, I realized I did make one mistake. When you asked me where my favorite place was, I should have said London. Or Paris.” He was playing with my fingers, sliding his own between them, making my stomach clench and my skin feel too tight.
“Let’s go home and get your passport. We’ll go right now.”
Thing was, he didn’t sound like he was teasing. Like if I said yes, I’d be on a private jet in a couple of hours on my way to Europe. “I don’t have a passport. I’ve never really traveled anywhere.”
“We’ll have to rectify that. After you get your passport.”
First thing to do Monday morning: get my freaking passport. Even though I could never let him spend that kind of money and fly me to England or France.
Could I?
There was definitely a part of me that considered it. I kept surprising myself with my reactions to him and the things he said.
“Speaking of travel, I have some not-so-great news. I have to go to Ireland for about three weeks.”
“What? Why?” I whined like Zelda did when somebody told her she couldn’t have chocolate.
“We have to do some location reshoots. They decided to change a couple of things about the script. Too bad about that passport or you could have come with me.”
Little thrill pangs surged through me at the thought of being with him in a place as beautiful as Ireland. Until reality set in. “Even if I had one, I couldn’t just . . . I have school. And my family. And I had to start a new job since my last boss was an egomaniacal celebrity unfamiliar with sexual harassment law.”
And I’m still not sleeping with you. I kept that last bit to myself.
He grinned and pulled my hand up to his mouth. He kissed the back of it. The contact was brief, but it made my knees melt. I was glad I was sitting down.
“Just promise me you won’t go falling in love with some other guy while I’m gone.” He said it in a playful tone, but I sensed some seriousness behind it.
“I don’t know how that would be possible, given that you basically ruined my last date.” I hadn’t meant to say that, especially once I saw the wicked gleam in his eyes.
“What happened? Did he take you to see Octavius and you realized what a letdown the man next to you was in comparison?” If anybody else had said it, it would have sounded obnoxious. Somehow he was just adorable.
“This guy from work I was sort of crushing on asked me out to dinner. You were tweeting things. And I thought they were about me. So I kept checking my phone, which I think he didn’t like. He’s been avoiding me ever since.”
Chase didn’t say “Good,” but it looked like he was thinking it. “Do you mean the day after we talked about Octavius? Those tweets were definitely about you.”
If he kept making me feel this giddy, at some point my heart was going to give out.
We talked and talked. About everything and nothing. Like whether he preferred going out or staying home. “Socializing and networking is my job. When I’m at a party or a premiere, it’s because I have to be. And being surrounded by alcohol is not fun. I’ve always been a bit of a homebody. And I’ve been reminded lately just how much fun staying in can be.”
Was that another reference to me? Why did I feel like we were swinging back and forth like a pendulum? Even though earlier I’d decided to enjoy the here and now, I couldn’t stop obsessing. One second it was like of course he liked me, of course he was interested in me, and then it was back to him just wanting to be friends, and I was blowing everything way out of proportion.
He distracted me from my thoughts by asking me to tell him something he didn’t know.
“So, twelve plus one is the same as eleven plus two, right?”
“Right.”
“But did you know that when you take the letters in twelve plus one, you can rearrange them to be eleven plus two?”
He got out his phone and typed the words out. “That’s cool.”
When I answered his request, I knew that wasn’t what he’d meant. He wanted me to tell him something personal. But I didn’t really have anything like that left. I’d already told him all the important stuff. By our third (maybe fourth) date. I had never done that before with any guy.
Much later on I told him about our family trip to Yellowstone the previous summer and how Zelda had been obsessed with seeing buffalo. How we’d spotted one near a rest stop and Zelda had been thrilled. And the next time we saw a whole herd, we pointed it out to her, but she’d rolled her eyes and said, “I already seen a buffalo,” which made him chuckle. Then I looked at my watch.
I realized with a gasp that it was three o’clock in the morning. It was going to take at least forty-five minutes to get to my place. I’d never been so into a conversation with someone that I’d literally lost track of time. “It is so late. I should probably get home.”
He flicked on his phone, his eyes widening when he saw the time. “You probably should. But I kind of want you to stay.”
I kind of wanted to stay, but I didn’t know if that would mean something different to me than it would to him. Would he interpret me staying as some kind of invitation? Not to mention that I didn’t normally stay out this late. Lexi had probably called the police. “My roommate most likely has an APB out on me, so I should go.”
“You could text her. And stay.”
It didn’t help matters that he looked so inviting and tempting. I was starting to get that whole Eve–apple thing.
Mind made up, I went to the kitchen and got my purse. “I can call a cab.”
“I picked you up; I’m taking you home. Come on.”
He held my hand the whole way home. Like this was a thing we did now. We didn’t do anything else, but at least it was something.
Unless he held hands with all his female friends. Maybe he was just affectionate and liked the contact.
We chatted for the entire drive, but now there was this underlying current. Because he hadn’t wanted me to leave, and I hadn’t, either. Did that mean something more? If it did, then what?
When we got to my apartment complex, he insisted on walking me to the door. And my body said, We are at Defcon 1! This is finally happening! Because why else would a guy walk you to the door unless he planned to kiss you good night? I had mints in my purse but no easy way to get them or to take one without him noticing. And I knew he would tease me about it.
My heart pounded, my lips tingled, and it was practically impossible to convince oxygen to enter my lungs.
We walked up the three flights of stairs to my apartment. We stood in front of the door, and I fumbled around in my purse, felt the metal mint container, and briefly debated with myself whether I could sneak one out. I decided against it, as I was not known for my manual dexterity. I grabbed my keys instead. “So. Here we are. At my door. Made of wood. Maybe. It could be a wood veneer. Or metal.”
Chase leaned against the door frame, and his beauty hit me all over again. How could God have given so many good looks to just one person? “What your front door is made of is definitely important to know.”
Was he teasing me? Seriously? When my insides were about to explode?
He gave me a smile and said, “Good night, Zoe.”
And now he was leaving? Was he really not going to kiss me? Had he already forgotten our up-all-night conversation and how he wanted me to stay? I had my answer when he turned and walked down a few steps.
I went to the top of the stairs to look at him. “Am I going to see you again?”
He paused on the landing. “If you want to. Why would you ask me that?”
Why would I ask him that? Besides the fact that he was more inscrutable than the freaking Sphinx? “Most of my relationships never go past the third date.”
As if he’d heard something important in my voice, he walked back up the stairs, deliberately maintaining eye contact with me. When he got to where I stood, I backed up and pressed into the wall. He stood in front of me, not touching me but so close it almost felt like he was. “Considering that it’s four in the morning, I think a new day qualifies as a new date. Which makes it our fourth. And I hear important things happen on fourth dates.” His voice dropped to little more than a whisper with his last sentence, and it made my legs and arms tremble.
Was he joking around, or did he mean something else? Was he thinking of me in a different way?
And then . . . he kissed me.
On the forehead.
Again.
“’Night, Zo.” He whistled softly as he left this time, and I didn’t say anything to stop him. I let myself into my apartment, feeling dazed and thoroughly confused.
As I locked the front door, I wondered whether I needed to invest in a neon sign that I could attach to my forehead that said LIPS DOWN HERE with one of those arrows. I kicked off my shoes and went to the bedroom, fully expecting the third degree from Lexi.
She was in her bed, totally passed out. She hadn’t even noticed I was late coming home. I grabbed an oversize shirt to sleep in and angrily took off my clothes.
Why was he so hard to read? I could almost hear Lexi’s voice in my head saying, “Duh. He’s an actor. You see only what he wants you to see.”
Did he not want to kiss me? Why would he talk about taking me to Ireland when he apparently wasn’t even attracted to me? He really did treat me like I was his annoying kid sister whom he had to let tag along with him. Thing was—he didn’t have to. But he spent time with me anyway.
I considered waking up Lexi to get her advice, but she turned over and started snoring, hugging her pillow with the Chase Covington cover.
I climbed into bed and decided it was beyond sad that my roommate was currently getting more action from Chase than I was.