Page 2 of New Year

He bumps my nose with his knuckle, then turns to thank Mom, never considering that I might not want to go, that I might say no. Of course he doesn’t. And of course I won’t. No one says no to Chase London.

At the Maserati, Chase opens the door for me and then bounds around the hood and slides into his seat. The engine purrs to life and we pull out onto the road. Before I can ask where we’re going, he takes my hand and kisses it, peeking up at me with those irresistible eyes while he does it. Looking into his eyes is like looking up into the falling snow—hypnotizing, thrilling, and disconcerting.

He holds my gaze so long I start to worry he’s going to drive off the road into a ditch. I pull my hand away from his mouth, and he chuckles and straightens up, correcting the slight veering of the car.

I tuck my hands between my knees. “You going to tell me where we’re going?”

“It’s a surprise.”

Excitement and dread coil in my stomach. Is he taking me to Lindsey? What if this is some kind of setup, or a hazing, or…

Chase interrupts my anxiety spiral with an adorable smile as he thumbs on his phone. “Dave Matthews okay?”

“Always.” I turn my face towards the window to hide a smile, wondering if he picked nineties music just for me.

“So, is Lindsey coming with us?” I ask, trying to distract myself from my traitorous thoughts.

“Just listen.”

He turns up the volume and skips to “Crush,” which makes me fall even more in love with him, which is crushing in itself. Because this is so much more than a crush, and it feels like he’s saying he feels the same, even if he can’t say it out loud.

Three songs later we’re pulling off the highway and onto a road that winds through skeletal trees in the middle of nowhere. “Where are we?”

“Just look,” he says this time.

“Are you going to kill me and hide my body out here in the woods?”

“Are you scared?” he asks, crawling his fingers up my arm and tickling my neck.

“No,” I say, laughing and pushing his hand away.

“Maybe you should be,” he says, “I could be dangerous.” He gives me a look that I’m assuming is supposed to be dangerous but actually looks so sexy my heart drops down to my toes. He swerves back into his lane, pulling his attention to the road, and I sigh, closing my eyes and pushing back into my seat with a giddy grin. I vow to keep that image of Chase in my mind forever. I give up on getting over him. It’s never going to happen. I’m positively dizzy being in his presence again after so long, like a dry drunk who finally gave in and let herself go to the binge.

I start when I feel his fingers brush my face. He’s watching me with a pained expression. “What are you thinking about?”

“Nothing,” I say quickly, turning to the window.

“You’re beautiful,” he says, turning off the road to circle a fenced complex of manicured lawns with gorgeous buildings set back from the road, lights in most of the windows.

“What’s this?” I ask.

I’m glad for the excuse to change the subject. Did Chase London just say I was beautiful? I must be dreaming.

“That,” he says, “is Cedar Crest. It’s like a…hmm.”

I consider teasing that for once Chase London is at a loss for words, but something stops me. He seems to be searching for something real. “It’s a ritzy place for the troubled wealthy of theworld. You know, rich kids with eating disorders, mental health concerns, addictions.”

“I’ve heard the name before,” I say, trying to remember who mentioned it in passing, so quickly I didn’t have time to ask what they were talking about. “Wasn’t that child star recovering from exhaustion there a couple months ago?”

“Yeah, but that’s not where I’m taking you,” he says as we pass the last building.

“Did you tell my mom that?” I ask, trying to bring us back to the laughing and teasing. “Because that would explain why she let me out of the house.”

He just chuckles, but the mood has turned somber. We return to the road, but he doesn’t turn back towards Faulkner and the highway. Instead, he goes the opposite way, winding along a two-lane road through the barren trees, each twig illuminated by the headlights under the thick blanket of drippy clouds.

“You ever been out where the blacktop ends?” he asks.

“Is that a question or the name of a country song?”

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