Page 9 of Chase
I hold my breath when the instructor comes over to help me with my gloves. Sometimes I feel like everyone who looks at me knows. It’s like they can see the dark parts of me. I swear on the only crown I have that they know about my scars and the deep cuts I’ve left behind all over my body. I exhale when she moves on and I focus on my bag. I go at it hard; beating away my insecurities, anxiety, fears, and feelings.
When I walk out of class the knots in my stomach feel looser. I open up my notes app and check off kickboxing and the yoga routine I did afterward. Those check marks always make me feel better, like I was able to do something right even if it’s just for this moment. That I didn’t disappoint anyone.Or myself.
I feel Chase’s eyes on me again and scan campus, seeking him out. Not one part of me questions it, I know it’s him. I always do. I knew every time last semester when this started and knew he’d find me again now that we’re both back on campus. I feel those chocolate flames lick at my skin as I walk down thepath towards my apartment. He doesn’t make himself known to me like he did earlier.
I know he’s there when I swipe my keycard to get into my building. I feel the burn from his gaze cool as we separate, our link to each other severed for the time being. Now that we’re both back on campus, I know he’ll be back. He always is. He’s right on the edge, keeping the space between us warm and waiting.
Chapter Three
IPARKon the street and take a moment to glance over at the hockey house.Is he home now?I can’t tell by scanning over his bedroom window. Jake’s SUV isn’t in the driveway so I assume they’re at practice or something. Besides his official game schedule, I was never sure of his whereabouts last semester except the times I caught him staring or the times I felt eyes on me but couldn’t place him.
That feeling always warmed my body versus sending it into a panic that someone was out there lurking in the shadows. I didn’t realize how much I had missed that feeling until his stare warmed me up like the summer sun on my walk to and from class this morning.And here I am seeking it out a few hours later.It’s our version of hide and seek.
I get out of my car, noting the time and my punctuality as I grab the grocery bags from the back seat. Another errand to check off my list for today. This side of the street is lined with football houses and I walk towards the blue-shingled home Davis will be living in with Drew and five other players.
The football team houses are the biggest on the street and are known for their parties. They’re throwing one tonight and I promised Evie I would go with her. She’s also got a list going. New years resolutions to tackle with “going to a college party,” at the very top.
I ring the doorbell and have barely stepped back when the door swings open and I’m caught in a big brother bear hug. He spins me around and my feet dangle in the air.
“Alright now, put me down, ya big lug!” I swat at him lovingly and he gently places me on my feet and takes the three bags from me.
“I missed ya, Sloaney,” he says as he puts his arm around my shoulders and leads me into his new room which has a worn QB1 plaque hanging from the door.
“Ya alright? You look like you ain’t gettin’ your eight hours in,” he says giving me a once-over. It makes me more aware of the shadows under my eyes that even the best concealers aren’t masking.
“Davis Higgins! Are ya sayin’ I’m not gettin’ my beauty sleep?” I gasp while placing my hands on my hips.
“Nah, you're as beautiful as ever but ya look tired. Everythin’ alright?” He asks, taking inventory of me. I was expectingthis and kept my gloves on intentionally because of this exact moment. We’re thick as thieves so I’m not surprised his alarm bells are going off. He can read me better than anyone.
“Just pre-semester jitters along with the anticipation of your arrival today. I bet tonight I’ll sleep better knowin’ you're all settled in.” It’s not a lie. I really have been a big ball of nerves anticipating being back on the same side of the world as the handsome and equally infuriating Chase Wilton.
I remove my gloves, stuff them in my jacket pocket, and get to work on making his bed while he goes through the snacks I brought him.
We work through his luggage, putting his clothes away, setting up his desk, and adding essentials to a Target order. Two hours later and he’s in tip-top shape. If I hadn’t come to do this he would have lived out of a suitcase all semester. I smooth out my brother’s comforter before taking a seat, pleased with keeping up my promise to put this all together for him.
“You gonna tell me what that's all about?” he asks with a popped eyebrow and his eyes and chin gesturing towards my thumb while pulling out his desk chair to sit across from me. I was certain he wouldn’t notice if I took the bandaid off and kept my hands busy. I was sure the bags of snacks I brought him would be enough of a distraction.
But then again, I should’ve known better. He’s the only one who has ever seen this side of me. He’s been able to spot my triggers and is all too aware of what happens when the pressure builds and the emotional pain bubbles beneath my skin. He’s got a sixth sense for when it’s too much for me to bear and I start slicing through it.
“Everything’s fine, really. There’s nothin’ for ya to worry about, I promise.” I assure him and myself, attempting a smile to lighten the mood. He’s not having it and rolls his chair towardsme. He leans forward, reaches for my left hand, and turns it over as he examines the pads of my fingers.
“What happened here?” He asks and I go on to tell him all about the latest conversation I had with our Mama. Our phone call had me balled up in bed, while she ridiculed every little thing she could think of.
One of our mother’s superpowers is propping Davis up towards the sun, to only turn around cut me down at the knees, and that’s exactly what she did the other night.
Cutting is how I cope. It’s how I’ve managed my father’s disappointment, my mother’s discontent, and how I try to fix my mistakes. I always cut my fingers first. I need to see it. And if anyone else does, they just assume it’s a paper cut or something.Well, almost anyone.
“We’re not talkin’ about it right now, Davis. It’s your first night here, there’s a party happenin’ tonight, and I’m okay right now, really I am,” I plead, taking my hand back and place it in my lap, staring at my healing fingers. The silence between us is loud. I knew it as soon as I woke up this morning that he would do this.
“Remember what I said to you when I gave ya that?” He asks, and I automatically grab the silver feather pendant hanging from a delicate chain around my neck. He gave me this for our birthday last year. I rub the silver feather between my fingers. I had promised to try harder.AndI’ve let him down.
“That ya thought I was brave and strong all on my own, that I didn’t need the crutch of my cuts,” my voice trembles when I repeat back to him the words he said when I held the necklace for the first time. He once again reaches for my hands and gives them each a gentle reassuring squeeze. He’s always grounded me and been my rock when I felt like I was aimlessly floating away.
“And the feather?” The necklace came with a card explaining the pendant’s symbolism and I immediately took to it. I loved it. It spoke to me and it’s why I haven’t taken it off since. Deep in my heart I want to believe I’m all these things too.
“That it symbolized trust, honor, strength, wisdom, power, and freedom,” I place the feather against my skin in an attempt for the words to seep in, reminding me of all the things I need to do. Of all the things I can be. I need to trust myself to make good choices, ones that don’t include all the cutting.
I need to honor myself and my heart. I need to be strong and keep away from what I desperately want to grab in my makeup bag, in my desk drawer, in the shower, and stashed away in other hidden places when things become too much for me to bear. I need to use the wisdom I’ve gotten from therapy instead of turning to old habits…no matter how good it feels when I cut into my skin.
