Page 123 of Picture Perfect

I sigh inwardly, wishing we could bridge the gap that's formed between us, but for now, I focus on the task at hand. We wander through the rows, everyone offering their opinions on the perfect pumpkin, the banter light and easy—except for the space where Chess stands, silent and withdrawn.

"Chess," I call out, my voice echoing slightly in the vastness of the pumpkin-strewn field. He barely glances up from where he's lagging behind, a shadow detaching itself from the sunlit laughter of our friends.

"Listen, you don't need to hang back on my account." I shuffle my feet, suddenly awkward on the crunchy leaves beneath us. “They're your friends too."

He hesitates, then trudges over, his hands buried deep in his pockets, hazel eyes unreadable. "Can we talk?" His tone is low, meant only for my ears.

"Sure." Curiosity nips at me; I nod towards a quieter corner by the hay bales.

We walk side by side but not together, the distance between us more than just physical. Once secluded, Chess turns to face me, and I'm struck by the intensity in his gaze.

"Do you regret it?" he asks abruptly, his voice threading through the crisp air.

"Regret what?" I know exactly what he means, but I need him to say it.

He stuffs his hands into the pockets of his jeans, his gaze fixed on the ground. "Us. That night. "You've been...distant.”

I cross my arms, trying to keep myself together under his scrutiny. "I don't regret anything we did. It was a choice I made, and I stand by it.”

His eyes meet mine, searching for an answer I'm not sure I have. "Then why does it feel like you're pushing me away? I thought we were good, Addy. I really did."

“I know it didn't mean much to you."

I say, forcing the words out against the lump in my throat. "I wanted that moment to be mine, to be something I chose freely, and it was. I was never going to be something special to you, I get that."

He freezes. His hazel eyes drill into me with an intensity that sets my pulse racing.

"Addy," he breathes out, a hint of frustration lacing his words. "What are you talking about? You think you're not special? To me?"

My heart stumbles over a beat. "You didn't have to pretend it meant anything. We both knew what it was." There’s a sharpness to my voice, a defense against the hurt that flares up.

"That night... it meant everything to me. You are so fucking special, can't you see that?" His hands come up as if to reach for me but drop back to his sides.

"Then why?" The question is a splinter, working its way deeper. "Why were you with those girls?"

He's taken aback, his mouth opening and closing before he finds his words. "What girls? I swear, I don't want anyone else. I haven't been with anyone else since I first kissed you."

"Chess, I saw you." The accusation hangs between us, heavy and undeniable. "With them, laughing, touching... It looked like you were having the time of your life."

"Flirting?" He runs a hand through his hair, a gesture of frustration that tugs at my resolve. "I wasn't—it wasn't like that. It never is with anyone else."

"Isn't it?" Skepticism laces my tone, even as I want to believe him. Desperately. But the image of him surrounded by those girls is seared into my memory, a stark contrast to the intimacy we shared.

"Never," he insists, stepping close enough that I can feel his breath on my skin. "Addy, look at me. Please."

I lift my gaze to his, caught in the earnest plea I find there. Something in me wants to relent, to accept his words and let the walls come down, but fear is a formidable adversary.

"Chess, I—"

Chess's eyes drill into mine, a storm of emotions swirling in their hazel depths. "Addy, you need to understand," he begins, the urgency in his voice pulling me back from my spiral of doubt. “I don’t give a shit about them. The flirting is a means to an end. I was getting information from them. And that is much easier to do when they’re relaxed.”

It sounds so simple, reasonable. But, I don’t believe him.

"But you slept with them," I push, unable to keep the accusation from my voice.

"I mean, yes,” he hedges. “But, that was before you. It was all before you. I haven’t been with anyone else–hell I haven’t really even looked at anyone else since I first kissed you." He looks earnest, desperate even, but his past actions cast long shadows of doubt.

We rejoin the group, the laughter and chatter of our friends a stark contrast to the tension that clings to Chess and me like a second skin. I fold my arms over my chest, trying to keep my thoughts from spiraling. Trust isn't something given easily in my world, yet Chess's words linger, tempting me with the possibility of something more than hurt.

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