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“I’m not.”
“You are, it’s weird.” I took another gulp of coffee, letting it burn its way down. I knew I had confided in Pip about all of the Chase stuff but now that things were actually happening, and Chase was less than enthusiastic about people knowing, I wasn’t sure if updating Pip was really the right thing to do. Even assuming I swore her to secrecy, which would be necessary, there was still an excellent chance she’d have one too many mulled wines at Christmas and tell anyone who’d listen. No, it wasn’t worth the risk. Did it annoy me that I needed to keep this a secret from my sister? Yes, a little. But the long term pay off making a relationship work with Chase was worth the temporary annoyance.
Could Pip provide some insight, though? Maybe some advice on what might make Chase more comfortable and less likely to get skittish and freak out? I had no fucking idea what I was actually doing in the whole relationship arena. I figured that you just had to treat the person with respect, start from a base of mutual trust and friendship and you were good, right? In theory it made sense to me. Chase and I had all those things along with the kind of chemistry that threatened to set my hair on fire, but was that really all there was to it? Was I missing something?
“Can I assume that means you’ve not talked to her then?” Pip said, taking a sip from her own cup.
“No updates.” The lie slipped out easily and she looked suitably disappointed enough to show me she believed it. I didn’t like the idea that we were both keeping things to ourselves, when Pip had always been the one that I could confide in. Soon, I reminded myself, soon I’d be able to tell her everything, assuming Chase and I got past date five and she didn’t pull the pin. I couldn’t let myself think that her changing her mind was an option.
In the summerbetween junior and senior year, Chase, Nash, and I spent an inordinate amount of time out at The Rockaways. And almost every day Chase managed to complain about how the water was too cold. This memory came back to me as I got into the car on Monday morning and I wondered if I'd perhaps made a mistake with today’s date. If she thought the water was cold in the middle of July, what the hell was she going to think about it the week before Christmas? In my defense, I’d been watching the swell forecast all week and today was the pick of the days. It was now or never and, considering I hadn’t been in the water in a couple of weeks, I was taking now.
“She’ll be okay,” I said, the words filling the empty car and laughing at me. I could even go so far as to say she might have fun, but that might be a stretch. It was too late to back out now though. We were doing this thing—and I felt moderately confident that she’d be happy with it… once it was over.
I started the car, pulled out onto the street and headed in the direction of Chase’s apartment. In keeping with our previous three dates, I had given her very little information about what we were actually doing. The only thing I had said in the text yesterday was:pack a bag. Naturally, she’d had a laundry list of questions, all of which I managed to answer with as little detail as possible to drive her mad. I wouldn’t be at all surprised if she slapped me as soon as she saw me today.
Was it a good idea to be planning an overnight trip when this was only date four? No, it was probably the worst and most torturous thing I could have done to the both of us. I had gone back and forth on whether or not to actually do it. But, in the end, the idea of being curled up with her in front of a fire had won out over any blue-ball related issues. I also had a bottle of whiskey with our names on it, and I was not going to be one of those people who’d drink and drive.
Nerves were making my palms clammy as I pulled onto Chase’s street. I hadn't intended to keep this a secret from her, I just figured I’d show her once everything was done. But, as with all remodeling, it took longer than I anticipated and other things got in the way.
Chase was already on the sidewalk as I pulled up to the curb. She looked ready for a snow trek, rugged up from head to toe. Snow boots, black jeans—that I could almost guarantee had thermals under them—and a black coat that hit her at mid thigh.
I got out to put her bag in the trunk but she threw it in the backseat, while balancing two coffees in her other hand, before I could even get around the car.
“What are you doing?” she asked with a startled little squeak as I pinned her to the passenger door. God, she was beautiful.
“I was trying to be a gentleman,” I said, mouth hovering over hers as the electricity crackled between us.
“Well, a gentleman has got to be quicker than that, sir.” The golden flecks in her dark eyes twinkled with amusement. “What’s this new obsession with being a gentleman anyway?” She pressed up ever-so-slightly to bring our lips together but I retreated.
“Making a lady wait isn’t terribly gentlemanly,” she added with a pout, arching further up.
“Oh, but it is fun...” I closed the distance with a low growl and was rewarded with a breathy moan and the slide of her tongue past my lips. I could happily kiss her right where we were for the rest of the day, but I had plans.
I took the coffees, gave her one last kiss and opened the door. “In—we’ve got places to be.”
“Oh, do we, now?”
“Yup.” I handed her back the tray once she was situated then rounded the hood and climbed into the driver’s seat.
“And where, exactly, are we going?” she asked, handing me a cup.
“Surfing.”
Her own cup paused an inch from her mouth then came down slowly as her eyes went wide. “I’m sorry, I just hallucinated. I could have sworn I heard you say that we’re going surfing, but that cannot possibly be correct.”
“And, yet, it is. You didn’t hallucinate. That’s what we’re doing. Surfing.”
She blinked a few times, her mouth opening and closing like a fish struggling for air. “It’s December.”
“Yes,” I confirmed.
“It’s forty degrees out.”
“Maybe even less.”
“I can’t surf.” She was starting to look genuinely freaked out now and it shouldn’t make me want to laugh but it did, just a little.
“You can’t surf,yet,” I corrected and received a withering glare in response.
