Page 66 of Not A Chance

I’d been thinking of a way to knock off some experiences on her Indie List throughout these days several days apart.

With her usual fortress of walls slightly lowered in this quiet moment between us, I needed to take my shot.

Indie looked up into the lens of her phone, giving me another soft smile.

“Okay, Theo. Yes.”

Her answer had my heart beating harder than our illicit activities moments before. She was going to give us a chance.

“I had to tell you this, goalie, but I’m not into being blindfolded. It’s just not one of my kinks. I hope it’s not a deal-breaker for you,” I drawled.

Theo’s low chuckle followed my words. The fact that I wasn’t wearing a blindfold was beside the point. For some insane reason, I’d agreed to keep my eyes closed after Theo had asked me to during the last ten minutes of our car ride to wherever this so-called “date” was taking place.

“Imagine that. Rocky Layne doesn’t like to be out of control. I can’t believe it.” His humorous snark slithered into my heart, filling in the chasms that had lived in my chest.

He leaned down and whispered in my ear, “I’d like to think I know at least some of your kinks by now, baby. But please, do elaborate for educational purposes.”

Yeah, like the little bit of voyeurism on that video call.

An inelegant snort that would have my childhood etiquette coaches expiring on the spot escaped my nose. I bumped myshoulder against his in a faux scolding.

Whoever invented feelings must have been a sadist. All this gooey warmth that swam in my veins whenever I so much as heard Theo’s voice, let alone when he put his hands on me, was uncomfortable enough to make me nauseous.

It was a type of euphoric sickness that made me consider if it should be bottled and classified as an illicit drug.

How did Abbie do it all the time? She walked through life with literally every emotion plain as day on her face. I shuddered inwardly at the power of the feelings she carried so close to the surface of her skin.

Jesus Christ. A void so large that Nietzsche would have approved had lived inside me since before I hit puberty. I’d chucked so many inconvenient emotions in there over the years I was a master at feeling almost nothing. Hell, by this point, I’d probably made that dark space sentient by feeding it so many thoughts and should name it.

But here I was, not being able to go a minute without some sort of alien implantation flaring up and making mefeel things.

My phone buzzed in my pocket with a text, interrupting my current existential crisis. It was probably my father again. So far, I’d dodged two phone calls and answered several texts with vague, unhelpful information.

I knew I was playing with fire, but I just wanted to stay in this bubble of freedom with Theo for just a little bit longer, without the problems that were waiting for me back home catching up to me.

What would it be like to be completely free of my family’s demands and rules? It was a thought that came to mind more often now that Theo was in my life again.

I’ll call my father tomorrow. Whatever he wants can wait another twelve hours. Just let me have this moment with Theo all to myself.

The cost of my defiance was the combination of fear and misplacedguilt that robbed me of some of the contentment I felt when I was with Theo.

The roughness of Theo’s palm brushed against mine, long calloused from years of brutal hits from hockey pucks slamming his gloves against his skin.

The dry warmth of his skin said he wasn’t nervous about this bloody date at all, as if it was just an everyday occurrence that he took out his sister’s best friend without waiting for the bottom to fall out of this mess.

I’d grown so attuned to everything about him in such a short time. Beside me, he smelled subtly like his shower gel. I also knew if I pressed my face into his neck, I’d get a hint of the fresh, clean scent of just his skin.

Shit. I should be committed right now for waxing on about his goddamn smell.

How’s convincing yourself that you’re not completely obsessed with him going? Like you’re not the same hopeless idiot you were at nineteen?

My inner voice was a nuisance that was getting harder and harder to ignore.

It was more inconvenient having Emery’s sweet, optimistic insistence to finally go after something that made me happy.

“You do everything for everyone else, Indie. What is it that you want?”It was her eternal refrain when it came to me.

Why was everyone put out so much when I was just trying to make their lives easier?

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