Author: Cheryl McIntyre

Plus, I’ve seen enough movies to know that sometimes, elevators fall. Crash.

I can’t breathe.

“I swear to God, Annie, if you puke in here…”

That grabs my attention. I narrow my eyes on Chase. “What? What will you do?”

We stop moving and my heart stops beating. The doors slide open and I scurry out as quickly as possible. My knees feel weak, my legs shaking.

I jump as a hand settles onto my shoulder. “You okay?” Chase asks. His voice is low, soft, and it almost makes me believe he cares a little about my answer.

“Yeah,” I rasp. “I’m fine.”

I look up and meet his eyes. God, I love his eyes. Even though he’s grown out of his awkward, gangly phase, and into this thicker, sharper, well-built frame, I still think his eyes are his best feature. He could be a male model.

His brows arch over those gorgeous eyes and I realize I’m staring. I step back, causing his hand to drop from my shoulder. He watches me, his gaze focused on my face for several more seconds. He adjusts his bag and nods. “You sure?”

“I think so,” I say.

His hazel eyes flick over me, from top to bottom, before he cocks his head to the side. “You want to work out with me and Park?”

“What?” I’m so thrown off by the invitation all I can do is repeat my question. “What?”

“I’m meeting Park at the gym.” He pauses as he licks his bottom lip. “If he remembers. Sometimes he’s too hung over and he doesn’t show. Do you want to come along?”

“Why?”

Chase chuckles and shakes his head. He turns and starts walking toward the main doors. “I thought it might help loosen you up, relax you a little. Maybe not.”

“What about my iPod?” I call after him.

I hear him sigh, but he doesn’t turn around or even slow his pace. “It can come along too.”

I press my lips together to keep from smiling. He knows damn well that’s not what I meant. I tap my foot, trying to make a decision. I have a few hours before I need to be in class, but I work out every other day. He’s throwing off my routine. Again.

Chase slows, glancing over his shoulder at me as his hands rest on the door handle. His lips turn up in a smirk as if he’s challenging me.

And I can’t ignore that.

“I need to get my bag,” I say.

He grins and nods his head, acknowledging me. “I’ll walk with you.”

~*~

“I don’t like working out without my playlist,” I say as I trail behind Chase.

“You have a new playlist,” he replies. “I made sure all the songs are motivational.”

I haven’t listened to it yet, but somehow I imagine what motivates Chase is very different than what motivates me. I shoot him a look, which he ignores.

“Trust me,” he adds.

“Not if my life depended on it.”

He stops and I take several more steps before I realize. I pivot on my heel and look back at him. He’s watching me with narrowed eyes, his arms folded in front of his chest.

“What?” I ask.

“Why don’t you like me?”

“What?” I repeat stupidly. I heard what he said, I just don’t know how to answer it and the honesty of the question has me completely off kilter.

“Everybody likes me except you. And you’ve never liked me. I don’t get it.”

I tip my head to the side as I regard him. “Are you serious?”

He nods slowly. I take a step toward him. I don’t really want to have this conversation here where everyone can hear us. “You’re mean to me every chance you get,” I say incredulously. “Can we not talk about this right now?” The thing is…I really do like Chase, like deep, deep down inside. I just hate how he makes me feel.

“I’m not mean to you.” His eyes are searching my face and I know I must look like I’m dumbfounded or in shock or something.

“Yes, you are. All the time. Sometimes I’m afraid to get anywhere near you because I’m scared of what you’re going to say next to make me feel like shit about myself.”

I watch his dark brows furrow as he continues to stare at me. “You’re scared of me?”

I breathe out a dry laugh. “I’m not scared of you. Just what comes out of your mouth.”

He steps closer, his hands twitching at his sides. “I don’t say shit to hurt your feelings,” he says, his voice low. I look down at our shoes and I can’t help noticing how old and dirty his are compared to mine. “I’m just messing around. I thought we were having fun.”

My head pops up so quickly a pain shoots through my neck. I rub it as I glare at him. “Calling me a bitch—all the time—is not fun for me. Hear something often enough and you believe it’s true.”

Chase chuckles and I shake my head. I don’t know why I bother trying to have a real conversation with him.

“You do realize,” he begins as he takes another step forward, “that you call me an asshole multiple times a day.”

I open my mouth to deny it, but I can’t. It’s true. He grins when I don’t bother to defend my actions.

“Truce?”

My eyes follow his movements as he reaches out one hand and cups it around mine. My stomach tightens and then something flutters inside.

“Truce,” I agree.

As soon as Park shows up, he and Chase hit the weights, so I decide to do my own thing. Placing my ear buds in, I find Chase’s workout playlist and hop up on the elliptical. The music starts and I can’t help picking up my pace to the quickening beat. I feel my lips form a smile as I work my legs.

Damn. Who knew Chase would know what he was talking about?

The chorus fills my ears and my feet falter for a moment. I look down at the screen, reading the song title. I look over my shoulder, trying to locate Chase. My eyes find him almost immediately. As if he senses me looking at him, his head rises, his gaze falling on me.

I know there’s no way he’s aware of how I feel invisible most of the time and my need to make sure I’m seen. Remembered. But it’s almost like he put this song on just for me. Like it could have been written just for me.

He smiles before turning back to whatever Park is saying to him. I realize my smile has never wavered.

When the song ends, I start it over and let myself get lost.

~*~

Chase tugs an ear bud, causing it to fall onto my chest. “You wanna swim?”

I try to catch my breath as I slow down to a stop. “Do what?” I pull the other bud out and pause my iPod. I have to look down at the screen on the elliptical to see how long it’s been. I’ve completely lost track of time.

“Swim,” Chase says. “Do you want to swim?”

I crinkle my nose. I love to swim. Hate to swim with other people. Hate to wear a swimsuit. He holds out his hand and I just look at it.

“Come on.” He wraps his fingers around my wrist and nods his head. “They have a killer pool. It’s a great cool down.”

“I don’t have a suit.”

“It’s fine,” he insists. “Just go like that. Nobody will say anything to you if you’re with me.”

I glance down at my shorts and school tee shirt. I can’t go like this.

“You look fine,” he says, reading my thoughts.

“No, it’s fine. You go ahead. I’ll just go back to the dorms.”

He rolls his eyes and pulls on my arm. “I want you to come swim with me.”

“You want me to?”

He chuckles as he runs his free hand over his forehead, wiping away sweat. “That’s why I asked.”

“I’ll come with you, but I’m not swimming like this. I’ll just sit by the pool and talk to you.”

He eyes me for a moment and then relents. “Fine. But you have to at least put your feet in.”

8

Girls and Boys

Chase

I dive into the pool and swim a full lap, butterfly stroke—my favorite—before I glide through the water to join Annie as she settles in on the side of the deep end. Her shoes are still on and she’s sitting with her legs crossed at the ankles, leaning back on her palms.

I dip my head, letting the water push my hair back, and then prop my arms across the floor between us.

“Take your shoes off,” I say, flicking my fingers and sending drops of water onto her calves.

She eyes me curiously. “Why? I’m good here.”

“Because I want your feet in the water.”

“Why?” she asks again. She shifts her weight, straightening her back. I’ve known Annie for a long time. And even though I don’t hang out with her all that much, I know how she ticks. That little straightening of her back is the equivalent to a soldier putting on protective gear.

I don’t bother to argue with her when she’s like this. Instead, I reach over and pull off one shoe and throw it over toward the benches lining the outer walls. Before she can recover from her surprise, I tug the sock off and send it flying.

“What are you doing?” she asks, which is stupid as hell, since I’ve made it very clear I want her in the water.

Why do I want her in so badly? I have no idea. But when I decide I want something, I take it. Little motivates me, and it doesn’t happen often. She should feel special.

I dunk my hand in the pool, scooping up water, and let it trail from my fingertips onto her bare foot. Her toes twitch, but she doesn’t pull away. I move to the other shoe and repeat the whole process before I look up to gauge her reaction.

“See? It’s nice, right?”

“Mm,” she agrees quietly. Damn that’s a nice sound.

I pull her by the ankles, sliding her closer to the edge, and maneuver her legs into the pool on either side of me. Annie’s eyes widen, her hands gripping the ledge.

“What are you doing?”

I stare up at her and shake my head. I have no idea. I push off the wall and backstroke toward the middle of the pool. “I’m just swimming,” I say. I’m not sure she even hears me. We’re nowhere close to alone and it’s loud, especially with the way sounds echo in here. Like waves of noise pinging off the painted brick walls, shooting from one side to the next.

“Then what am I doing?” Annie calls out to me.

I tread water as I regard her. That’s a damn good question. I’m not really sure why I felt the need to drag her along with me today. Maybe because I felt bad for her? Maybe because I actually like spending time with her. I don’t know. But why did she feel the need to follow?

I shrug and swipe my hand over my face. As I bob aimlessly in the deep end, water makes its way into my mouth, and I spit it out. I keep watching her, waiting to see if she’ll find an answer to her question, but she looks away, watching the other swimmers.

I flip my body, diving down to the bottom. When I was younger, my dad took me to the local pool every weekend during the summer. It was a lot smaller, but so was I. I would swim to the bottom and stare up at the people moving around the pool. It was like watching another dimension or looking through a portal to another world.

I do it now, looking through the heavily chlorinated water, up at Annie, sitting by herself. She fidgets with her hair, taking it out of its ponytail and working it into a bun on the top of her head. She must be getting hot. Pool areas are always kept warmer. I should get out and take her home. I don’t know why I insisted on her coming with me when she wasn’t going to swim.

I kick off, pushing myself up to the surface. I toss my hair out of my face and rub the water from my burning eyes.

Annie’s gone. I move my legs, turning myself in a slow circle. And then I find her. She’s sitting on one of the benches, knees tucked into her chest and she’s smiling. All her attention is targeted on Loden Guiles.