Oh, the clarity a morning brings.
When the dawn of a new day chips away at the cozy darkness that came before, perhaps the coziest I’d ever been…Those kisses… My hand rose up to touch my fiery cheeks, just thinking about those kisses with Chase.
I laid in my bed, my door securely locked, though I wasn’t sure if I locked it to keep Chase out, or me in. As far as I could hear, the living room was quiet, meaning Chase still slept. I sighed and fluffed my pillow before laying my head back on it again, drawing the covers more tightly around me for warmth.
The name Chase Riley didn’t hold much disdain anymore. Now, when I said or thought his name, my heart spiked in rhythm and all I could picture were his hands cupping my face, and the look in his eyes before he kissed me.
Stop.
Those eyes though. The hands.
STOP IT.
I drew in a deep breath and tried to clear my head with some quick Zen breathing tricks. The problem was, I didn’t know what kissing Chase meant. In high school, he fell into more of the player category. Granted, it was high school, and he was on the football team. He had been popular and good looking, so it wasn’t hard to imagine he’d never be shy of dates. But it had been ten years since then. He may have changed, or he may be the same Chase Riley he had always been.
I was alone with him at a remote cabin. The only interesting, hot-blooded thing around, besides the bears and coyotes, and possibly Bigfoot. I’d be a fool not to consider that I may just be a plaything for him during his vacation. I thought I couldn’t stand him before I came to the cabin, and then six days later, I found myself all over him like a bear to honey.
Is that all he was tome? A plaything?
I thought about the way my body responded to him as we kissed—heck, every time we touched. Attraction wasn’t my issue with Chase. In high school, I hated him so badly, but I would eagerly await Friday nights for the football gang to come to the house for poker. Was it the group of friends that had me applying that extra coat of mascara? Or him?
What about Chase’s confession that he liked me in high school? Was that a line? A confession to put me in a better position to gain my trust for a kiss? Why did thrills erupt through my body at his confession? Had I always liked Chase, deep down? Or was I trying to compensate, to make him like me after the dog comment. Had I secretly tried to make him change his mind about me in high school? We were always arguing and debating, ribbing and bashing, but hadn’t I been the one to start most of the fights. Was it his attention I had been after?
She looks like my dog, but not as hot.
The words broke through my thoughts and I struggled to remember the feelings they usually invoke inside me, and for the first time, I came up short. The words seemed almost dead to me now. I wasn’t a dog. I didn’t feel like a dog, especially the way Chase looked at me last night. Maybe those words could finally be put to rest. They’d been proven wrong.
Or had they?
What would happen tomorrow, when he packs up to go home? When our lives separate beyond the cabin? Was all of this just some sort of emotional stress relief between two people locked away together?
I checked my phone for the time and nearly gasped. Ten in the morning. I pulled back the covers and rolled myself out of bed. I had never slept in this long, and didn’t want to seem like I was hiding out. Especially since that was exactly what I was doing. Was he?
I put my hand on the doorknob, determined to put my roaring feelings aside. When Chase told me our kisses were all in fun, or a mistake—I would agree and shake it off. I would be Taylor bloody Swift. We still had a whole day together, and I really wanted to make it as awkward-free as possible. I took several ragged breaths, trying to calm my hyperventilating heart. Why didn’t I know what I wanted? Or how I felt? How could I go from a semi-successful woman, to a scared, confused, teenager in less than one week? Frustrated with my thoughts, I opened the door and stepped into the hallway.
The house was quiet. Chase’s door was closed. I breathed a sigh of relief, until I realized he was probably hiding in there too, not wanting to face what we did. Not wanting to face me. I crept into the bathroom. I used the facilities and brushed my teeth. The forgotten mascara of the night before showed in the dark bags beneath my eyes. My lips looked puffy and swollen, the only physical trace of the previous night’s sweetness. Well, that and my hair, mused into something akin to a rat’s nest, piled high on my head.
My head was no clearer by the time I had washed my face, applied a fresh coat of mascara, and tamed my hair. I opened the door and walked out into the hallway, immediately noticing Chase’s door ajar. He was awake. With deep breaths, a pounding heart, and wearing Chase’s oversized sweatpants and a sweatshirt, I trudged closer to the kitchen. I stopped when I saw him. He was leaning against the small kitchen counter, dressed in his basketball shorts and his flannel button down shirt. His hair was rumpled, and he had his arms folded, peering at nothing, as if deep in thought. He must have sensed my presence and his eyes shifted to mine.
All of a sudden, I knew.
I knew exactly what I wanted. And who I wanted. And very likely, who I hadalwayswanted.
He pushed away from the counter and walked toward me. I forced myself to stand still, though my heart spiked. When he reached me, he clutched my face in both hands and kissed me. His lips were soft and warm against mine. The hands that cupped my face were gentle. My heart sang as my surprise wore off, and I quickly wrapped my arms around his neck and pressed close to him. A few long moments later, we came up for air.
“Hi,” I said, smiling shyly at him.
He pressed his forehead to mine. “Hey, Blister.”
When I opened my mouth to take him to task over his pet name, he kissed me before any words formed, wrapping his arms around me and pressing me close. A moment later, I couldn’t for the life of me remember what I was going to tell him. By the time he pulled away, Blister seemed the most romantic endearment to ever grace the earth.
He smiled at me, his eyebrows raised suspiciously. “You weren’t hiding back there, were you?”
I scoffed, “Who, me? Of course not. I’m not scared of… anything out here.”
Grabbing my hand, he tugged me toward the couch where he sat down, pulling me onto his lap, my legs dangling over his thighs. I sighed as his arms came around me, cradling me against his chest.
“Listen Pen, I’ve got to say something,” he began, his voice rumbling in my ear. And if you think my heart didn’t skyrocket at his shortening of my name, you’d be wrong. “About the dog comment… I honestly don’t remember saying it, and I don’t know if that makes it better or worse—probably worse. I made you into some sort of fourteen-year-old punchline to impress an idiot, and I wouldn’t put it past me back then to do something like that, but I just want you to know, I always liked you. Even back then. I don’t think I ever had romantic thoughts about anything but football in the eighth grade, but I remember you in Mr. Thomas’s class. I thought you were cool. And obviously, when I got to know you better in high school, I thought you were more than cool. But I’m really sorry that I put you through all that.”