Author: Cheryl McIntyre

I gaze up at the stage, watching Park wail the lyrics to Clever Love, lost in the emotion clearly displayed in his voice. And then Chase slides his hand down the length of my arm, soft and slow. My body stiffens out of habit, but he ignores it, interlocking our fingers. It’s the first time he’s ever done something like this. Holding my hand this way. He’s not doing it to offer me comfort because I’m not upset. It makes me nervous, but excited at the same time. The mix of emotions is overwhelming, but in this really great way.

His eyes, golden in the dim light of the overcrowded bar, lock with mine as his hand squeezes against my palm. His thumb draws an invisible pattern over the back of my hand and I shiver. He turns his head, returning his attention to the stage as a smile plays over his face. I gaze down at our hands, still wrapped around each other, and feel something inside of me stir.

A longing.

He doesn’t let go until after Park’s band finishes on the small stage.

And after that, he took my hand all the time like it was the most normal thing in the world. And every single time, my stomach fills with butterflies, and I wish he would reconsider that kiss.

32

Chase

Present

The cop is still sitting beside me.

I’m not sure how long it’s been.

Minutes?

Hours?

I just don’t know.

I let my head fall back against the wall with a thud.

I close my eyes.

“I’m looking for my son, Chase Malloy.”

My eyes pop open when I hear my dad’s voice. An officer points and my dad turns his head, following his finger. His gaze lands on me and I see the shock register on his face. My mom trails behind him, her arms wrapped securely around her waist, as if she’s giving herself a hug.

I look down at my bloody clothes. My hands.

I keep my head lowered because I hate for my parents to see me this way.

“Chase?” my dad murmurs hesitantly.

The officer beside me stands up and offers his hand to my dad. “Detective Cross,” he says.

My mom and dad introduce themselves and then everyone turns their attention back to me.

“What happened?” Mom asks. Her voice catches and I flinch.

“He was killing her,” I utter.

“Who?” My dad asks this, but Detective Cross pulls a notepad and pen from the desk, readying it.

“I walked in and Loden was on top of Annie. He was chok—” I swallow and force myself to say it. “He was choking her. Killing her. So I…” I shake my head. “I stopped him.”

“Okay,” Dad says, his palm pressing the air between us. “Don’t say anything else until you have a lawyer present.” He turns to Detective Cross and asks, “What happens now?”

“Due to the nature of the crime, we’re not equipped to hold him. He’ll be moved to county until his court date.”

“When’s that?”

“Should be in the morning. His lawyer will walk you through the process.”

Dad nods his head, his hands resting on his hips. I look away, unable to continue to look at the expression on his face. Fear and disappointment.

I zone out after that. I can hear them talking, but it’s white noise. Static.

Mom sits beside me, but she doesn’t dare touch me. I glance sideways at her and she offers a cautious smile.

“It’ll be okay,” she utters.

Her words have me turning away. I focus hard on the floor. “Can you do something for me?”

“Whatever I can, Chase. You know that.”

“Find out about Annie for me. How she is. Where she is. Get a hold of Jenny or Guy. Someone. Find out if she’s all right for me.”

Mom nods, her eyes glossing. She rubs her nose and blinks rapidly. My parents have known Annie as long as I have. I know she’ll do this for me.

She stands up and I watch her walk into the hallway, pulling her cell phone from her purse. I keep watching her as she dials and presses the phone to her ear.

I hold my breath, waiting.

She hangs up and dials another number and repeats the same process. She calls three times, or maybe she calls three different people, I’m not sure, but nobody is answering her call.

My head falls back and I stare up at the ceiling.

My knee starts bouncing. I’m anxious. I need to know if she’s okay.

“Hey,” I say, my head dropping so I can look at Detective Cross. He’s in the middle of a conversation with my dad, his arms hooked over his chest. He pauses mid-sentence and gives me his full attention.

“You want to know what happened tonight?”

He shifts around my dad, coming to stand in front of me. He nods and props his hip against the desk. “You ready to talk to me?”

I lean forward as far as the cuffs will let me go. “I’ll tell you every single detail, without a lawyer, if you find out how Annie is.”

33

She Ain’t You

Annie

Five Months Ago

Just as our rivalry started silently when we were fourteen, this new phase in our relationship begins in much the same way. Chase and I never discuss “the kiss that never was,” as I like to refer to it. We don’t talk about the fight between him and Loden again, though I know Loden wouldn’t have let me go if Chase didn’t do what he did that day.

Something has changed between us over the past few months.

It started with the night at Park’s show when Chase held my hand for the first time. There’s this way we touch—deliberately, tenderly, secretly—that puts us into some category I don’t have a name for.

I have never wanted somebody to kiss me this badly before. But I’m not sure what Chase and I are.

We’re not together.

But we’re not friends.

It began with the hand holding then progressed from there.

Like tonight, we’re at a party. He’s taken my hand several times, or placed his hand against the small of my back. Little touches we never used to take part in.

He peers over at me, watching me for several seconds before he asks, “Wanna dance?”

Of course I want to dance with him. “Sure,” I call over the pounding music. He, again, takes my hand, leading me through the crowd. We give each other the normal, appropriate amount of space as we move our bodies along with the song. I can’t stop smiling. Everything I do with Chase is so much fun.

The song ends, replaced with a slower, softer beat. Someone dims the lights, which normally I’d find comical, but Chase and I both freeze, staring at one another, unsure. I see something flicker in his eyes. Desire and uncertainty.

So I make the decision. I step into him, pressing my chest to his and glide my shaking fingers up the length of his arms. Touching him like this feels…amazing. Freeing. Right.

I let my fingertips trace over his tattoos and I’m surprised how much I like it. Surprised more as I watch the goose bumps prickle his smooth skin—realizing he likes it just as much as I do. Even over the music, I hear his quick intake of breath. His hands grip my hips, pulling me closer, leaving no room for air between us.

I think for one wonderful second he’s going to finally kiss me, but he lowers his head to my neck, resting his cheek on my shoulder, and sings the lyrics of the song. His breath is warm on my neck and it’s the longest, most agonizing three minutes of my life to date. I can’t decide whether he’s singing the song to me, or just singing in general. But each time he murmurs the words: “She ain’t you,” I fight with myself, wondering if I should just kiss him. But he already shot me down once, so I keep dancing. Then the moment ends with the song and Chase pulls away, distancing himself from me.

“It’s getting late. You ready to go?” he asks. His voice is gruff and his eyes flick around the room, not looking at anything in particular. But mostly not looking at me.

I clear my throat before I say, “Yeah.” Inside, I wish we could dance a few more songs just like that.

He takes my hand and leads me outside. I glance down several times, watching his fingers flex between mine as if he wants to do something or say something, but then we’re at the car and he’s opening the door for me.

He hurries to plug in his iPod, making sure to fill the silence. I have several questions sitting on my tongue, but I keep my mouth shut until we pull up to my dorm.

“I had fun tonight.”

He grins at me. “Me too.” He skims his fingers over my cheek, making me stiffen in response. He sighs and drops his hand to the steering wheel. “Call me when you get inside.”

I nod, completely deflated. I contemplate crawling into his lap and forcing him to kiss me, but mentally shake my head at myself before I open the door and head inside.

~*~

Since the party, Chase and I have spent almost every day together. A pattern has begun to form these past few months. Now it’s these little caresses. We search each other out, skin against skin, just needing to make contact. We do it when nobody’s looking. If anybody were to notice then there’d be questions. And I don’t think either of us have the answers.

It’s all innocent in a not so innocent way. And extremely frustrating. We hold hands in the car. Lay on each other in a tangled heap of arms and legs while we watch movies. I have this need to trace the calluses left on his fingers from playing his bass. He absent-mindedly skims his fingers through my hair whenever he’s within reach.

But we never take it farther. No matter how much I want to.

And there’s still been no kissing, though I think about it all the time.

All. The. Time.

I don’t know what we are, but I’m…happy?

I’ve noticed Heaven’s weekend visits have become less and less. And when she makes it out, it seems different somehow. She doesn’t touch Chase like she did before. Like Chase and I do now. She doesn’t stay in his room. She brings friends with her. Sometimes other guys.

I don’t ask him about her, though. Because no matter what his answer is, it will change our relationship again. And change is so scary right now.

Chase and I are taking summer classes, which start soon. I’m staying in the otherwise abandoned dorms. I have two other girls in my dorm room, and my bedroom to myself.

Well, when Chase doesn’t stay.

He’s slept in Hannah’s bed the past few nights. I think it’s because Loden is apparently staying in his apartment, which isn’t far from campus, instead of going home to his parents’ house. He showed up a few nights ago at a party Chase and I went to, which isn’t the first time. We’ve also seen him once when Chase talked me into a late night burger run.

Loden didn’t say anything. Didn’t even come near me. But he watched me, his eyes following my every movement greedily until I was so uncomfortable we were forced to leave. Chase doesn’t know, but Loden still calls every so often. I don’t answer and he hasn’t left a message. I think it’s a reminder, his way of not allowing me to forget him.

The first night Chase stayed was after the party. I didn’t really feel like going out that night, but I knew Chase did, so I went. We were in a semi-quiet corner, adlibbing other people’s conversations, and laughing our asses off. Chase’s phone rang and I watched him send Heaven’s call to voicemail before he looked back up at me. Our eyes locked and he gave me this small smile as he shrugged his shoulders.

“You can answer it,” I said.

He shook his head as his eyes flicked over my face. “You’re the only one I want to talk to.”

My lips parted in shock as I inhaled a sharp breath. His gaze dropped to my mouth and the butterflies attacked again. Because, again, I thought he was contemplating kissing me. Then movement over his shoulder caught my attention and my blood ran cold. Loden was watching me. His icy eyes piercing me from just a few feet away. I drew back and Chase glanced over his shoulder, wondering where my attention had gone. I saw his shoulders tense and he started to rise from his chair. I grabbed his arm and his head swung back to me.