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“It didn’t really. She just made me kind of... insecure. Everyone liked her. All the guys I was interested in were more into her.”
“I thought you dated in college.” His head is turned in my direction, his eyes resting on my face.
“I did. I mean, on and off. With a few different guys. Nothing serious and nothing... exciting. The guys I really liked didn’t want me.” I sigh, doing my best to not be melodramatic. But I still mumble, “Story of my life.”
He thinks about that for a minute. Then says lightly, “Maybe you were into the wrong guys.”
“I was. I always am. But what the hell am I supposed to do about that?”
He doesn’t answer. It feels like he wants to say something, but he doesn’t say it. And I’m suddenly a little nervous, so I don’t push him to get it said.
Eventually he asks, “So seeing Carly just made you feel insecure?”
“Yeah. A little. But the main thing is... is... she assumed you were my boyfriend.”
His expression changes. His mouth softens but his eyes don’t. It’s an odd, edgy expression for Chase. “Oh, I see. So you rushed to tell her I was definitely not your boyfriend, and now you’re feeling guilty because you think it was some sort of betrayal of our friendship.”
I gape at him. Literally gape.
He frowns. “What? Didn’t I get it right?”
“No! You didn’t get it even close to right!” I sit up, smoothing down my hair, which I pulled into a ponytail earlier. It occurs to me then that the reason I’m so shocked is because Chase is nearly always right when he guesses how I’m feeling.
But he’s dead wrong about this.
His mouth still turned down in thoughtful confusion, he sits up too. “Then why did it make you feel bad?”
“Because I...” I clear my throat. “I...”
“Paige? What the hell is going on here?” His voice is almost—almost—serious. Intense. It’s not like him at all.
“Nothing!” I blurt out. “She thought you were hot, so when she asked if you were my boyfriend I said... I said you were.”
He blinks. Clearly dumbfounded.
“I said you were,” I admit again. “It was so silly and petty and unnecessary, but I pretended you were. My boyfriend.” I groan and slouch back down into a reclining position.
Chase is completely still for a few more seconds. Then he bursts into laughter. He laughs so much he has to bend over.
“It’s not funny!” I glare at him from my position on the blanket.
“Oh, yes it is.” He finally gets control of his amusement and stretches back down beside me. He’s smiling soft and warm. “Why the hell are you feeling so bad and guilty about that?”
“Well... I lied.”
“So what?”
“I lied! For no good reason. Just because I was feeling insecure.”
“It did absolutely no harm. I don’t give a damn if you want to tell near strangers that I’m your boyfriend, and you’re not likely to see her again anytime soon. So why does it matter?” His tone is light and casual—more like his typical tone—but his eyes are still watching me closely, like he’s looking for signs of... something.
Something.
“I guess it doesn’t really,” I answer at last. I adjust my legs. Fiddle with the blanket beneath me. “I just don’t like to think of myself as a silly, petty kind of person. I don’t normally do things like that. I don’t normally lie.”
“I know you don’t. I’ve told you before. You assume the rest of the world is as trustworthy and straightforward as you are. But we aren’t. We’re much, much worse.” He reaches over and covers my hand, which is still playing with the blanket between our bodies. “And if telling a harmless lie because you momentarily felt insecure is the worst of your flaws, then you’re doing pretty well for yourself.”
“I guess,” I say with another long inhale. His big, warm hand is still covering mine. I really like how it feels.
