His lashes flick upward as he briefly glances at me.
“Yeah. We can be… mature. Even though I fucking hate that word. We can go back to living our lives. You know?”
I set my jaw. “What’s that mean?”
He shrugs, looking down instead of meeting my eyes. “You hate the idea of anyone finding out who I am, right?”
I frown. “Not because I’m ashamed. Because Iknowhow the assholes on social media would ruin your life. Track you down in public. All the shit they’ve been doing to me and my costar. I just want to protect you.”
“It might not be that bad. It’s not like I’m your boyfriend or something.”
“Right,” I say quickly. “We’re not… together. But they’d still eat you alive if we went on dates, or to clubs, Chase. Trust me. I’ve seen it happen.”
It feels like something just shifted inside me. Chase is still tugging at my belt loop, bringing me closer, and his other hand roams up the front of my shirt and skates over my hip, giving it a little pinch.
It feels too good. Too familiar, now.
I’m suddenly thinking about too much.
Including people who aren’t even alive anymore because fame swallowed them whole.
And I can’t go there.
“You’ll be back in New York again at some point, I’m sure,” Chase says.
“Sometime.”
But I don’t mention that I don’t even knowwhen. I have to film season 2 ofYard Line, and I’ve already signed on to film a movie after that, which will shoot partly in LA and partly in Vancouver. Nowhere near here.
I could visit, but would a stolen weekend here or there ever be enough for Chase? And how could I explain random trips to New York?
It’s fucking crazy that I’m even thinking of it like that, considering I’ve only known him for less than a month.
It feels like so much longer.
But it isn’t.
He bites his lower lip, looking down and then back up at me again. “I think it’s good that this is happening. Don’t you?”
I blink at him. “Good?”
He nods. “That we’re being forced apart. It’s not like my life has exactly been a good influence on you. Have we been sober one day since we met? How many bottles of Scotch have you had?”
“There are a lot of other reasons for that, Chase.”
He has no clue about Daniel. No idea that just a few weeks ago, it was the anniversary of my best friend’s death. He doesn’t know how it felt to get my life upturned by fame. That my drinking has been problematic lately, butheisn’t the cause of it.
He doesn’t know the worst of anything about my life, actually.
Fuck, there’s so much we don’t know about each other.
When he looks up at me again, there’s something nervous in his eyes like I’ve never seen before.
“I never told you this,” he says, “but until recently, I was… worse. A lot worse. I smoked, and I drank, yes. But I also…damn.”
He tugs me closer and rests his head on my shoulder for a moment. For some reason, I feel like my heart is cracking in two.
“What is it, Chase?”
