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ChaseisKai.
Chapter Twenty-Three
I’m Sorry for Everything
Chase notices the moment the revelation hits me, because he takes a staggered step forward, as if he would stop me. ‘Frankie.’ My name sounds like it rips up his throat. ‘Please. Just let me explain.’
I inch back—just a step. And even as questions flood me, I clutch onto something that I can actually comprehend, the only coherent thought. I look up at him without truly seeing him. ‘But you don’t have a blue-tongued skink,’ I say weakly.
‘What—?’ He stares at me as if he’s trying to see through my skin to what I’m thinking. ‘He’s kept in a spare room. There’s too much sunlight in my bedroom. Can we—?’
‘What about the piano?’
He still looks at me as if he worries I’m going to collapse and die. ‘Also in the spare room. Frankie, can we talk about—?’
‘Oh.’ I nod to myself. I watch myself bin my soggy wrap.
How is it possible to feel nothing and everything, all at once? I want to laugh, because what are the chances of this happening to me again? That someone turns out to be everything I never expected? Because as I stare at the boy before me, I realise I know more about him than I ever thought possible. All those late nights Kai and I—Chaseand I—spent texting, as I sat on my roof beneath the moon and as I leant over the counter at work and as I looked up at the shitty fucking plastic stars on my ceiling, he gave me almost every piece of himself. He told me his favourite band and TV show and movie and drink, and we talked about life and the future, about happiness and success, and although I never met Kai, it was like I’d known him my whole life.
I knew him.
And I thought I knew Chase Maverick, but as he stands before me, he’s never seemed more like a stranger to me than he does right now.
I’m not sure I ever knew him at all.
???
It’s dark by the time he pulls the Stagg to a stop in the driveway. I make the excuse that I’m going to pee myself, and Chase rushes to let me out. I dart into the house, strip into my pyjamas, and clamber into bed.
But my thoughts are restless. I toss and turn and the covers twist around my legs in a sweaty spiral—
Ping ping!
I close my eyes. I already know who it is, but I take the moment anyway to gather myself before I reach beneath my pillow and squint at the screen.
God, I’m going to have to change his name, aren’t I? Maybe I should save him asHe Who Shall Not Be Named.But I switch it to Chase anyway, because a stupid part of me likes the thought of his name popping up.
Chase:can we talk?
I shouldn’t write back. I shouldn’t even entertain him.
Me:fine, tomorrow at lunch
Chase:I mean in person
Chase:I’m outside
I leap out of bed and twitch aside my curtains, and sure enough, there he is, standing in my drive.
How many times have I imagined this? Chase waking me in the dead of night, the glint from the streetlight next to my house shimmering in his eyes? Okay, disappointingly he hasn’t thrown a single stone at my window, and it isn’t pissing down, and he doesn’t seem breathless like he’s run right from his house to declare his love for me, but my chest still constricts at the sight of him.
He waves up at me and holds his phone to his ear, and a beat later, his name lights up my screen.
‘I don’t want to talk,’ he says by way of greeting. ‘I actually ran out of milk. Can I borrow some and I’ll pay you back tomorrow?’
I hate the way my lips twitch into a smile, and yet that heavy weight on my chest continues to push down, down, down— ‘Funny, because a little birdie told me you hate milk.’
What’s your favourite drink?
