We're driving home from practice when he makes his move.
"So," he says casually. "Want to grab lunch? Just us?"
My stomach drops. "Emma's making sandwiches at home."
"Emma won't care. Come on, there's this deli downtown I've been wanting to try."
He's not asking, he's telling.
"Yeah, okay."
The deli is twenty minutes away. Chase doesn't talk during the drive, just plays some playlist and drums his fingers on the steering wheel. The silence is loaded, heavy with whatever he's about to say, and my mind races through a dozen scenarios of how this conversation might go.
We order sandwiches when we get here and find a booth inthe back. Chase waits until we're settled, food in front of us, before he drops the bomb.
"Dude, I know."
My heart stops. "Know what?"
"Don't play stupid. You're sleeping with Maya."
The sandwich turns to ash in my mouth. I set it down carefully, my appetite vanishing. "Chase?—"
"I'm not an idiot, Jackson. I've been watching you two for weeks. The way you look at her, the way she looks at you when she thinks nobody's paying attention. This morning, when she was helping with Ethan, you looked at her like she hung the fucking moon."
"It's not?—"
"Yes, it is. And honestly? I'm not surprised. You've been into her for years."
That catches me off guard. "What?"
"Come on. You think I didn't notice? What sealed it for me was that shopping trip for Ethan's gear. It was supposed to be Maya and me, but you volunteered to go instead. Said I should stay with Emma since she wasn't feeling well. You've had it bad for her forever."
I run my hand through my hair, the denial dying on my lips. There's no point pretending anymore, not when he's laid it out so clearly. "Yeah. I have."
"So you're together."
"Yeah."
"And Emma doesn't know."
"No."
Chase leans back, studying me with an expression I can't quite read. "How long?"
"It's complicated."
"I bet." He takes a bite of his sandwich and chews thoughtfully. "Does she feel the same way?"
"Yes."
"You sure? Because she's been through a lot, man. And if you're taking advantage?—"
"I'm not." The words come out sharp, defensive. "She came to me. She needed… she needed to heal, to take control. And it started as something physical, but it became—" I stop. I can't finish.
"More," Chase supplies.
"Yeah. More."
