Chase

The brick mansion Gin lives in is the nicest house in town. Nothing else even comes close. It doesn’t really fit in Roper, and the way it sits alone on top of a hill, secluded by trees, it’s like the house knows that.

As Gin drives up the long driveway, I get my first good look in a long time at the front of the place. Only the back is visible from the road. There are big concrete planters loaded with brightly colored flowers and tall, wood, double front doors.

The garage and carriage house are bigger than my family’s entire home. The place is more like an estate than just a house, with landscaping as far as I can see on one side. There’s a guy in jeans trimming hedges over there.

“I remember coming to your birthday party here when we were kids,” I say. “Coolest party ever.”

“My mom used to love having people over.” Gin parks her car and turns it off, glancing over at me.

“She doesn’t anymore?”

She shrugs. “I guess not as much, no. She stopped opening it for the Christmas Walk after she overheard some people talking about us. She said that wasn’t the reason why, but I think it was.”

“What did they say?”

“The usual. That she was wrong for bringing me into the world without a father, that her books are awful and she has to be a psychopath to write that stuff, and that we’re Communists.”

I laugh, thinking she’s joking, but she arches her brows and stares me down.

“You think I’m kidding?”

My smile fades. “Well…about the communist part…yeah.”

“No, that happened. My mom donates to Planned Parenthood, and they were saying she’s too liberal for Roper.”

I scoff at that. “More like too successful. You guys can’t let assholes get to you.”

“I agree. But she’s sensitive to comments about me not having a father.”

“You have one, though, right? You just don’t know him?”

“Right. And I’m more than okay with it.”

“Wish I didn’t know mine,” I mumble.

“Why?”

“Never mind.” I clear my throat. “You sure your mom won’t mind me coming?”

Gin smiles. “Not at all. I texted her when we were on the way to my car. She said the lasagna is already in the oven.”

“Sounds amazing. That cafeteria cheeseburger I had at lunch today was like a hockey puck.”

“Eww.” I wrinkle my nose at the image.

“Yeah. Hard, burned, and cold. Couldn’t even finish it, and I eat just about anything.”

Gin opens her car door, and I follow. She gets her backpack out of the backseat, but I leave mine since she’ll be taking me home later.

“Hey, Gin,” the guy trimming the bushes calls out.

He sets down the shears and walks toward us. He’s a tall, fit-looking guy with salt-and-pepper hair and a friendly smile.

“Hi, Michael,” Gin says. “How’s it going?”

He looks up at the sky and grins. “Sun’s shining. I can’t complain.”

“This is my friend Chase Matthews,” she says.

He holds his hand out to shake mine.

“Nice to meet you, Chase.”

Gin shoulders her backpack and starts walking toward the back of the house.

“Dinner will be on soon, I think,” she calls to Michael over her shoulder. “Lasagna.”

“I smelled it cooking when I was polishing the banister earlier.” He pats his stomach and chuckles, heading back for the shears.

“Nice guy,” I say to Gin. “Is he a relative?”

“He works here, taking care of the place. It’s a lot to keep up with, so he does it full time.”

I nod. “Cool. Looks like he does a great job. The yard looks like it belongs in some magazine.”

She pauses outside of a simple door with planters on either side. “My mom makes a lot of money, but she’s not an asshole about it. She gives a lot to charity. People in Roper—”

I stop her, putting my hand over hers, which is hovering over the doorknob. “Hey. I don’t think she’s an asshole at all. She raised you, and you’re about the nicest person I’ve ever met. Just because my family doesn’t have money doesn’t mean I judge people who do.”

Gin’s smile is wide. “You think I’m nice? Even though every other word out of my mouth is profane? Even though I tried to cram a towel down your teammate’s throat today?”

“Yeah. You’re not nice in a generic sense. You’re nice in the ways that are hard but matter the most. You stand up for people.” I pause, thinking of Michelle. “You care about people in a way…I admire, I guess is the best way to say it. That’s why I don’t deserve you, and no other guy in this town does either.”

I said more than I meant to. There’re a couple feet of space between us, but as I look into her blue eyes, she feels too close. Close enough to reach out and touch.

I don’t care about her goth-looking black hair or her boring, sensible clothes. For the first time in my life, I’m attracted to a girl because of everything she is that has nothing to do with her looks.

Gin’s attractive, sure—I picture her body, dripping wet in that swimsuit—many times a day, but that’s not what keeps me up at night thinking about her. It’s the things she says. The things she does. Her witty texts. The way she feeds Madison lines when she forgets them at play practice. Her infectious laugh, which sounds like music because it’s hard to earn. Her fearless defense of anyone being picked on.

Gin puts up with no bullshit, and I find that unbelievably sexy.

She’s perfectly still, looking like she’s not even breathing as we stand there with our eyes locked on each other. I take a step closer to her, wanting to feel her warmth. She inhales sharply but doesn’t move.

I’d love to be more than friends with Gin, but after what I’ve done, I can’t. She’ll just have to be a friend I can’t get enough of.

I move a little closer, and her blue eyes widen. She still doesn’t seem to be inhaling or exhaling. No matter how close I get, I feel an urge to go just a little further.

The doorknob turns from the other side, and Gin jumps, the spell broken. Her mom opens the door and smiles at us.

“Oh, hi. Didn’t mean to scare you. I was just coming out to tell Michael dinner’s almost ready.”

“I told him,” Gin says. She turns to me and says, “Mom, you remember Chase?”

“Of course. I’m so glad you’re here, Chase. Call me Julia. I hope you’re hungry. Come on in, guys.”

She leads the way, and Gin lags behind her, leaning in to say something in a low tone when her mom’s out of earshot.

“Don’t worry, she’s not gonna judge you over the Sweet Sixteen thing.”

My heart starts beating triple time. “What? She knows about that?”

“She’s not like other moms. It’s cool.”

I stop, glaring down at her. “It’s not cool. Dammit, Gin. She knows I…oh, man.”

I cover my face with both hands. Gin puts a palm on my back, pushing me forward.

“It’s not a big deal, honest,” she says.

Easy for her to say.

I exhale deeply and shoot her a dirty look as we walk through a big room with lots of windows, potted plants, and books lining shelves. We continue through the massive, wood-floored house, and I can’t help admiring it as we go. The house is old, but it’s so well-cared for and warm that it doesn’t feel old at all. There are comfortable-looking couches and chairs and thick throw rugs on the floors.

“So how was school?” Julia asks as we walk into the massive, open kitchen.

“Um…” Gin’s gaze falls on a vase of bright pink roses on the island. She gasps and presses a palm to her chest. “Oh shit! It’s your birthday!”

Julia smiles and waves a hand. “When you get to be my age, it’s not a big deal.”

“Who sent the flowers?” Gin leans closer to smell one. “Are they from your editor?”

“Uh…no, those are from Michael, actually.”

Gin arches her brows and grins. “Oh really?”

“Hush,” Julia says, her face flushing. “He just remembered how much I love it when the rose bush with pink flowers is in bloom in the yard, so he ordered these.”

“Uh-huh.” Gin turns to me and waggles her brows. “Mom’s got a boyfriend.”

“I do not!” Julia rolls her eyes. “Honestly, Ginger.”

“Oh, no.” Gin gives her a mock cringe. “Don’t break out my full name. I’ll stop teasing you right now.”

“Ginger?” I give her a playful smile. “I didn’t know that was your full name. I guess I figured it was Virginia.”

“I took one look at that hair, and I knew,” Julia says.

“I would have preferred Ruby or Scarlet,” Gin says.

She walks over to her mom and gives her a hug. “Happy birthday. I’m sorry I didn’t make you a cake, but I will this weekend. I got your gift a couple months ago. I’ll run upstairs and get it.”

She looks over at me on her way out of the kitchen and says, “Be right back.”

I try not to think about how awkward things could get between her mom and me when we’re in here alone. I don’t know how I’ll respond if she brings up the Sweet Sixteen.

“Dinner smells great,” I say. “Anything I can do to help?”

“Thanks. Can you grab that loaf of bread and slice it for me? Across the length of it, so I can make garlic bread?”

She puts down the knife she’s using to chop tomatoes and gets a knife off a magnetic holder on the wall, handing it to me. I set it down and wash my hands, drying them on the towel she passes me.

“So, how’s senior year going?” she asks.

“Not bad. Busy with it being football season.”

“I bet. Where are you going for college?”

I shrug. “Still not sure.”

“Well, that’s okay. Plenty of time left.”

“You think?”

“I do. It’s a big decision. Take your time.”

“Where did you go?”

Her face lights up with a smile. “Mizzou. I loved it.”

Gin comes back into the kitchen holding a small package wrapped up in tissue paper. She sets it on the island, and Julia dries off her hands on a dish towel beside the cutting board before picking it up.

“Thanks, honey. You really didn’t have to get me anything.”

Gin rolls her eyes. “I always get you something, Mom. Open it.”

Julia peels away the layers of white paper, laughing when she sees what’s inside. She takes it out and shows it to me.

“My seashell man.” She turns to Gin and grins. “We were road-tripping through Maine last summer, and I saw this guy and almost bought him. I was so sorry I didn’t.”

“I went back for it when you were in another shop,” Gin says.

Her mom hugs her again, and I check out the shell man. He’s got skinny legs made of broken shells, a round body, and googly eyes glued onto the shell that serves as his head.

“I know it’s ugly,” Julia says, returning to the tomatoes on the cutting board. “But my mind started spinning with a book idea when I saw him. A story about a man who lives near the ocean and starts to develop the characteristics of fish.”

I take the garlic spread she passes to me and put it on the bread with the knife.

“My mom loves your books,” I say. “She’s read all of them.”

Julia smiles and looks genuinely touched. “Oh, how nice. I’ll send you with a hardback of my new one that’s not out yet.”

“She’ll go crazy over it. Thanks.”

Michael comes in from outside, and Julia shows him her shell man. He admires it, then washes his hands. We all sit down around a round wood table that overlooks a landscaped side yard.

It’s not like dinner at my house. No one’s eating in a hurry so they can get to the bar and get wasted. No one’s quiet because they’re afraid of saying anything that might set someone off. We all talk and laugh, and I see what Gin meant about her mom being cool. She’s warm and happy. She listens. She keeps adding food to my plate, and to Michael’s and Gin’s, when they start to get empty.

When Gin talks about what happened at lunch, Julia’s eyes fill with tears. She tells Gin she’s proud of her for pushing back and defending Raj. As dinner goes on, I start to see where Gin gets her principles from.

Gin insists on clearing the table, and I help her. Since she doesn’t have a cake for her mom, she gets a pail of chocolate ice cream from the freezer and puts a scoop in a bowl, then adds a candle to it and lights it. We all sing “Happy Birthday” to Julia, and she blows out the candle. All of us are too full to eat ice cream, but we stay at the table and talk.

The subject of football doesn’t come up once. I talk to Gin, Julia, and Michael about everything from politics to my sisters, but no one asks me anything about football.

For the first time in a very long time, I’m just Chase, not Chase the quarterback. It feels good.

After dinner, Gin and I play chess in a sitting room that doesn’t look like it gets much use but is still immaculately clean. It’s been a while since I’ve played, but I still beat her in both games we play.

It’s after nine when I reluctantly tell Gin I should probably get home. We both have homework to do. Michael said goodbye when he left earlier, and Julia hugs me as we’re leaving.

“Come back anytime,” she says, passing me a thick book. “And tell your mom she’s the first one outside of my publishing house to get this.”

“Thanks, she’ll be so excited.”

“Be back in a bit,” Gin says, waving to her mom as we leave.

“Your mom’s pretty great,” I say as we walk to the car.

“Thanks. I think so, too.”

We get in the car, and I realize this was the best evening I’ve had in a while. I want to ask Gin out, but I don’t. After what I’ve done, I’m lucky she’s willing to even be friends.

“Can I ask you a favor?” I say.

“Yeah.”

“You know Michelle Zimmerman?”

“Uh-huh. Is she back from rehab?”

“Yeah, she just got back. Will you ask her to sit with you at lunch?”

Gin gives me a skeptical glance. “Me? She doesn’t even know me.”

“Will you just ask, though?”

She shrugs. “Sure. You want me to ask her if she likes you, too?”

“No.” I shake my head for emphasis. “Not at all. It’s not like that.”

“You’d better not be asking her to join your sex club, Chase. After what she’s been through—”

“I’m not. I’m done with that.”

“Done with it? As in, not even giving out the roses?” She turns to me, her eyes wide with surprise.

“Long story. But, yeah.”

“Wow.”

She slows as she approaches my house, then pulls into the driveway.

“You might’ve mentioned that sooner, you know,” she says.

I give her a wry smile. “So you could drill me with questions about it?”

“Something like that,” she admits.

“Another night. Guess you’ll have to hang out with me again.”

“Guess I will.”

I open the car door, resisting my urge to lean over and kiss her. “’Night, Gin.”

“Goodnight, Chase.”