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In front of Chase Maverick.
‘Look at me, baby.’
And I do, because he’s just called mebaby. He doesn’t look sorry for it.
He looks vengeful.
‘Has he hurt you?’
I shake my head.
He opens his mouth and closes it. He regards me sceptically.
‘He hasn’t,’ I jump to reassure him. ‘I, um…’ I swat my tears. ‘I got sacked.’
Chase blinks.
‘It’s quite funny, actually,’ I say. ‘I was caught on CCTV rattling the vending machine to get free snacks. Apparently, my boss is quite protective of Snickers.’
He doesn’t smile. ‘All that effort just for a Snicker bar?’ he says drily. ‘I wouldn’t have pegged you for a weirdo, Frankie Fart Fringe, but here we are.’
He’s not convinced, but I’m relieved he runs with my lie.
‘Whatever,’ I reply. ‘Coming from the guy who sneaks in custard creams for lunch.’
His lips twitch at the corners. ‘Do you have a shovel lying around somewhere? I think I might start digging your grave now.’
I sober suddenly. ‘Are you going to Chapter One?’ I ask.
He drops his hands from my cheeks and sits beside me. I try not to read too much into the way he stretches his arm behind me on the bench. He lets his head fall back and he looses a breath before he says, ‘Are you?’
‘I think so.’ I bought my ticket last night. £150 just to ensure Archer doesn’t cheat on me. I don’t even like the majority of the line-up.
‘You won’t like it.’
‘Is this the part where you tell me not to go?’
He fixes me with a dark look. ‘It’s not my place to say that, but something tells me this is your first festival, and I’m saying you won’t like it.’
I bite my lip. Chase’s gaze flickers towards my mouth before they settle on my eyes again, but even that brief glance has me sweaty.
My voice is barely a whisper. ‘Why not?’
‘One, because last year there was only one vegetarian snack van. And two, Arch doesn’t go for the music.’
My mouth goes dry. ‘Does he go for the girls, then?’
‘Generally. But he has you now, and he’d be an idiot to mess it up. I wouldn’t worry about that, though,’ he adds when he sees my panic. ‘I’d break his fucking jaw if he did.’
We sit in silence for a while.
It starts to drizzle, and the heat mixes with the wet, the smell of petrichor surrounding us. It helps breathing a little easier—or maybe that’s just Chase.
Here, on this derelict street, it feels as though only he and I exist, and I realise I wouldn’t want to share this moment with anyone else.
‘Have you fixed it yet?’ I ask suddenly.
Chase quirks his brows.
