Page 13 of Grace

He stepped closer. His eyes and voice were clear, his words weren’t slurred like Nikky’s had been, and his breath didn’t smell either.

“I’d already be halfway home if you hadn’t held me up.”

“I’ll walk you home.”

“Thanks, but walking would take much longer,” I said, then thought about how my heart always raced and my stomach twisted into a knot whenever I had to pass a bar. Still, I didn’t need a babysitter.

“You’re afraid,” he said, his fingers tightening around the handlebars.

“I’ll get home quickly,” I said, jutting out my chin.

His lips—always exuding temptation—twisted into a lopsided smirk. No matter how irritating I found his presence, deep down I was glad he was there. Glad that he was worried about me.

For weeks, I’d been thinking about what Chase’s good qualities might be—and that night, it clicked. Protectiveness. He was worried about me.

“You won’t back off, will you?” I asked, irritation creeping into my voice. I wanted him to realize he was making me uncomfortable.

“No,” he said firmly, a broad smile on his face.

“And I thought I could avoid you forever,” I said, then swung my right leg over my bike and stood beside him. His closeness sent warmth through my body. I could feel his eyes on my face.

“Why?” he asked.

“Because you’re trouble, Chase. You sell drugs for a living. I don’t think I need to explain it any further,” I said, looking straight into his eyes defiantly, because I wasn’t ashamed of what I’d said.

He nodded, but there was no shame in his posture—instead, he straightened. He towered over me. He sank his hands into his pockets, and we walked home without speaking a word.

The silence wasn’t uncomfortable at all—he wasn’t a talker, and neither was I.

When our shoulders accidentally bumped, I pulled away from him. Then it happened again. The third time our shoulders touched, I didn’t shy away. It had been a long, exhausting night—my head was filled with my brother, my sister, Daisy… and Chase.

We walked the last few meters with our shoulders touching.

When we reached our house, I turned into the driveway without a word and pushed my bike silently into the garage. Then I walked to the front door, stepped next to him, started fiddling with my keychain—then stopped. I wasn't doing it to make him kiss me. I just looked deep into his eyes and thanked him for his kindness.

Chase stepped closer, so I had to tilt my head back. I narrowed my eyes in suspicion—I really didn’t want him to kiss me, because…

“I’m dating someone,” I blurted out nervously.

Chase furrowed his thick brown eyebrows, then pulled his hood back. He traced the silhouette of my round face in the air with his thumb, his eyes following the path his finger mapped, while I was watching him. He didn’t touch me, but my heart still beat faster.

My eyes landed on his lips, which made him lean closer.

“You can’t kiss me,” I said, then backed away until my shoulders hit the rough plaster of our house wall. Chase followed me calmly and respected my wish—he didn’t kiss me. He did something far worse. He made me think about him all day. They were dark hours, filled with endless dreams.

I had no idea how long we stood there, next to our house, in the shade. All I could focus on was his breathing and mine. I didn’t know what he was doing to me, but he was very good at it.

“You’re going too far,” I whispered.

“You’re letting me get too close.”

“I shouldn’t,” I stated the obvious.

“Then don’t,” he whispered in my ear in his deep, resonant voice. My eyelids grew heavy, then closed when his cool face brushed mine.

I put my hands on his chest. My cold fingers soaked up his warmth, but I gently pushed him away.

“I’m sorry, but whatever you have in mind, it wouldn’t work. I won’t sleep with or date an older boy—especially one who has no life.”