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“Don’t worry about it.” My voice comes out gruffer than I intend.
“No, really. I’ll be fine.” She rests her hand on my forearm.
God, she’s so tiny compared to me.
“I wasn’t asking anyone else anyway.”
She blinks rapidly a couple of times and her head swivels back. “Oh… okay. Still though, I don’t want a pity invite.” The corners of her lips tip down, and I realize how much I hate seeing her upset. She’s almost always smiling and happy.
I step forward, moving closer to her so that she has to rear her head back to look up at me. “No pity involved. Any guy should be honored to have you on their arm for a night.”
She swallows hard as she maintains my gaze. “As long as you’re sure you don’t mind.”
“I don’t mind, Twyla.” I turn to leave, take a few steps, then turn around. “In case I don’t see you before then—I’ll knock on your door at five thirty the night of the gala.”
She smiles and nods. I walk away, already knowing I’m knee-deep in shit.
Seven
Twyla
For the next week, I don’t run into Chase once. Not by the mailboxes, not entering or exiting the building, nor in the elevator. I’m not sure if that’s by his design or just a coincidence, but I’m oddly disappointed every time I step into the hallway or the lobby and he’s not there.
So, by 5:25 the evening of the gala, my nerves are shot. Chase said he didn’t mind taking me, but it’s hard not to feel like a pitiful little girl whose brother set her up—especially since it’s not even a real date. The idea of someone spending time with me because they feel obligated, not because they want to… well, let’s just say I’ve spent a lot of time wondering how long my ex-fiancé wanted to bail on our engagement before he finally said something.
But I decide not to focus on the negativity Mathew left me with and instead have a good time tonight. Moping around won’t change the fact Chase is taking me because Miles asked him.
I went shopping with Shayna this week and found a dress, a pale-blue chiffon A-line dress with a halter and high neck and a slit up the front of the dress. Half my hair is piled up in curls on top of my head, and the rest hangs down my back. I’m wearing more makeup than I normally do. Overall, I have a classy, polished look.
I don’t know what Chase’s type is, but I’m sure I’m not it. Being the little sister of his teammate takes me out of the running immediately.
Not that I should be thinking about what his type is anyway. I’m still grieving my future with Mathew, although truthfully, I hate him more and more every day.
The doorbell rings and I smooth the front of my dress, drawing in a deep breath. The walk to the door is excruciatingly long, and when I swing open the door, I can’t put into words the feelings rushing through my body. It’s not that I haven’t seen Chase’s six foot four-inch frame in a tuxedo—I’ve been to the gala before—but it will take anyone’s breath away every time.
“Hey,” I say, opening the door a little wider so he can step in.
His eyes roam up and down my body and when he sees me notice, he looks apologetic. “Hey.” We stand there awkwardly for a beat, and when I think he might compliment how I look, he says, “You ready to go?”
Disappointment tumbles through my stomach like a bowling ball plopping down the stairs, but I keep my smile in place. “Just let me grab my purse and coat.”
He takes the door from me, and I hurry over to the front closet where my coat is hanging, slip it on, and grab my purse off the entry table. “All set.”
Chase doesn’t say anything, holding the door open for me. We walk in silence down the long hallway toward the elevator.
God, will it be this awkward all night? I open my mouth to speak, but he beats me to it.
“I got us a car for the night so neither one of us would have to worry about driving. It’s waiting downstairs.”
We stop in front of the elevator, and he hits the down button.
“That was thoughtful of you. Thanks.”
He gives me what almost counts as a tight-lipped smile, then looks forward, waiting for the elevator. I think we both breathe a sigh of relief when the elevator dings and the doors slide open.
That lasts for about three seconds until we find ourselves standing in the confined space alone together with nothing to say.
I don’t know why it’s like this. I’ve been around him plenty of times and never felt nervous. I know it’s me who’s putting this energy out there and it needs to stop. Things don’t have to be weird between us just because I have a silly crush on him and I’m single now. Chase is always a gentleman with me—albeit a grumpy gentleman. I have to stop reading into signs that aren’t there.
