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I was exceedingly happy with myself. Chase thought my face was perfect. But also—“You hate bowling.” A more gross understatement had never been spoken.
She pursed her lips and blinked slowly. It was theI’m a hot second away from slapping youlook. I knew it well.
“Yes, thank you, I’m well aware of that.”
Now I was laughing. “Did you, Chase Linden, seriously agree to go bowling? Bowling.”
“No.” She let out a little growl. “Maybe, kind of. I was coerced. And I never actually agreed.”
“Wow.” I honestly never thought I would see the day. Not again. We’d all been bowling a few times in high school, but Chase would always pitch such a fit about wearing the shoes that she didn’t actually bowl, she’d just sit there heckling the rest of us and drinking watered down beer thanks to a truly terrible fake ID. Maggie Titsmith, if I recall correctly.
“Shut up,” she said and poked at my shirt in the basin beside us. “We should get you something else to wear.”
“I can’t go out like this?” I wagged my eyebrows at her and received a deadpan stare in return.
“Not unless you want Lindsay to either faint or throw herself at you. We’ve still got those promo ones in the office, don’t we?” She blinked, the look on her face changing and electricity crackled across my skin. Then she was marching out and I wondered if I’d imagined it, or maybe it was one-sided. But, then, I didn't think I’d imagined the way she’d stared after instructing me to strip. There was something here between us, I knew there was. I could feel it. I just needed her to stop fighting it.
I followed down the short hall to our sardine can of an office, and found Chase rummaging in a pile of boxes in the corner. My eyes tracked up the back of her legs along the fucking seam that ran from her ankle and disappeared under the hem of her dress. I’d been mesmerized by those seams all afternoon. I wasn’t the only one. Brady had been looking his fill as well, which had me tempted to slap him upside the head more than once. He was an okay dude but I would rather eat glass than have to watch Chase on a date with him. The double date was both a blessing and a curse.
“I can’t believe you said yes to going bowling. You! I don’t even know what to say.”
She turned and tossed a long-sleeved, black shirt at me. “Just say yes so we can get your stupid first date over and done with. Lindsay will realize that you are much more than your face”—her eyes darted below my chin—“and everything else. And I won’t have to see Brady again, aside from awkward stairwell encounters until one of us either dies or moves out.” She slumped against the desk and gulped down her remaining sangria.
I shrugged into the shirt and came to perch beside her.
We sat there in silence for a few long moments, pressed together from shoulder to knee. I’d say it was because the desk was so small, but it wasn’t. There was room enough for us not to be sandwiched together. My mind was circling the idea of going on a date with someone I wasn’t at all interested in; as gorgeous and nice as Lindsay was, I could admit to myself that, right now, my heart was beating for only one woman. Who would also be on this date. The fact I would, indirectly, be on a date with Chase was about the only reason I wasn’t saying no. That and the remote—seriously remote—possibility I’d get to see her in bowling shoes.
“Have you heard from Nash?” she asked, taking a sharp left turn away from the double date conversation.
“Radio silence.” For over a week now. There had been whole months when we hadn’t spoken in the past, but this felt different, the silence heavier.
“I’m worried about him.”
I slung an arm around her and her head dropped onto my shoulder like it was the most natural thing in the world. “I know, me too, but he’ll be okay,” I said with more conviction than I felt. Maybe I needed to plan a trip out to LA.
“How do you know?” It was little more than a whisper and she sounded like she was a second away from crying. Drunk Chase was a mixed up ball of emotions tonight. I squeezed her a little tighter.
“I don’t know for sure, but I need to believe it.”
She let out a heavy breath and I knew what she was thinking, because I was thinking it too:what if he’s back with Nadia?
Despite what everyone saw from the outside, Chase and I knew that Nash wasn’t himself in that relationship. He never had been. Not that I ever said that to him. How do you tell your friend that he’s a shadow of himself when his wife’s around? You don’t. You keep that shit to yourself until you either explode, or nature takes its course.
Then, there was Jemma. I had to believe that whatever there was between them was something different, something intense that burned so bright and fierce he couldn’t go back to what he’d had before. She lit him up like I’d never seen—he wasn’t just himself, he was more, better. Plus, Harley said they’d work it out and, for some bizarre reason—maybe it was her unshakable confidence—I trusted her opinion on the subject.
Alarmingly, I realized I trusted her opinion on more than just that.
“Yes,” I said, not needing to clarify what I was referring to.
Chase leaned away, her eyes jumping up and clashing with mine, a mix of emotions playing out behind them. Relief. Confusion. And something else I couldn't quite put my finger on. “Excuse me?”
“You said:just say yes. So, yes.” I shrugged like it wasn’t a big deal. Like my heartbeat hadn’t just sped up uncomfortably fast, and my palms weren’t spontaneously sweaty. Like I wasn’t already thinking about how to make Chase feel like she was the one I was on a date with.
“Great, that’s great. I’m sure Lindsay will be beside herself with excitement.” She shifted away so our legs were no longer touching.
“Brady, too, I’d say.”
I received another flat stare, but the corners of her lips were twitching with the effort to keep her smile in check. “Har.”
