But I can’t help but glance over. He smiles. I take another bite of my food.
Chase leans in close to my ear, stopping my chewing.
“Voglio essere il tuo ragazzo, quindi la prossima volta che sarò così vicino, mi lascerai baciarti.”(I want to be your boyfriend, so next time I’m this close, you’ll let me kiss you.)
My eyes grow wide before I turn my face to his, blinking too close to him.
“You said three languages,” I whisper.
He doesn’t move. “I just started learning Korean. Those Netflix dramas really got me in a chokehold.”
I can feel a light breeze glide over my arm as our eyes stay locked. Oh, we are way too close, but I don’t move away either. Heartbeats count as seconds before my thoughts begin to bleed through.
Are we having a moment? Oh yeah, this is a moment ... Wait, no. We can’t have any moments. Shit.
I quickly look away, hearing him exhale softly before he goes back to his figurative corner.
“Are you going to tell me what that meant?”
He huffs a laugh. “It was my answer to Noah’s text earlier.”
It feels safer to look at him, so I chance it, seeing he’s enjoying whatever’s about to come out of his mouth next.
“I told him to bring back the good olive oil. Said he’ll know it because it’s slicker than lube.”
And ladies and gentlemen, he’s back. Foreign-language crush, crushed.
“If you ever wondered why you’re single ...” I hand him the stick from my food before I take the last sip of my drink, holding that out, too, so he can throw it away with his. “What you just said is why.”
He stands, and so do I as he throws away our stuff before we start walking again.
“Yeah,” he breathes out. “Girls do have a hard time with exceptional humor. You know, ’cause they’re not funny.” He laughs and jumps away from me, wincing because I instantly shoot daggers from my eyes. “Kidding.” His voice is boisterous and filled with humor. “I swear ... butsince you’re a love expert, when’s the last time you were in something other than a situationship?”
He motions his head toward a row of tents with stacks and stacks of fruit as I answer, “Don’t you know? I’m in a permanent relationship with my independence.”
“You don’t think you’d live out a poly relationship with your independence and a dude? I hear you can have both nowadays. Shit, you’re even allowed to vote, in case you haven’t heard.”
I laugh. Like truly unguarded. Every once in a while, he’s actually kind of funny.
But still, it’s not a question I want to answer, because the only answer is that I’m a little fucked up. There’s too much baggage coming along with this ride.
I not so slyly change the subject.
“So almost four languages, huh? Was that the consequence of boarding school?”
He shakes his head, so onto me, and raises his voice. “Hell has frozen over. She wants to talk about me, everyone.”
“Shut up,” I rush out, reaching up to cover his mouth, but he grabs my wrist, lowering my arm gently. “Sue me. I’m fascinated. I kind of always thought you were a rich-boy douchebag whose only saving grace was that he wasn’t an elitist. But it turns out you’re a nonelitist rich-boy douchebag who speaks three, almost four languages and saved your grandma from a fire ... that you started.”
The way he laughs is like an explosion. It’s loud and intrusive, but if he was a wine, he’d be a really expensive bottle with a bold flavor.
And I can’t help myself—I pull out my phone and take his picture. When he looks at me, I shrug and say, “Proof of life ... for our guardians.”
But really, it’s proof that I don’t completely despise hanging out with Chase Beckett. No matter how problematic that feels.
Chapter Nine
Chase
