Page 80 of Broken on the Mountain
"Fine. But I'm more than a little turned on." His hands find my hips, pulling me flush against him. "You've been studying? Forme?"
"For us."
The words slip out before I can stop them. They're too honest, too revealing for two people who have declared to remain friends with benefits. No strings.
I'm forced to look away from Chase's eyes as they explode with excitement
"I wanted to know the names of the flowers in the meadow. The ones you pointed out. I wanted to understand this place the way you do."
He continues to look at me with those soft and vulnerable—and suddenly achingly tender—eyes. "Piper…"
"Plus, I figured if I'm going to keep losing at chili cook-offs and darts, I should at least win atsomething."
I deflect with humor, uncomfortable with the raw emotion building between us. If I was any kind of good person,nowwould be a really good time to tell him I won't be here next weekend.
But then he laughs, the sound rumbling through his chest and he shifts to continue up the path. "You're winning at a lot more than you think, baby. Come on, we're nearly there."
We continue up the trail, his hand now warm in mine. As we walk, he quizzes me on more flowers, really putting me to the test. I nail most of them, and with each correct answer, his smile grows wider.
Pride radiates off him in waves, and it does something dangerous to my heart.
Tell him about the gala, Piper. Just do it!
The words hover on my tongue, ready to spill out and ruin this perfect morning. Ishouldtell him I won't be here next weekend. That Mother's locked me into the Whitman Foundation Gala and there's no escape.
That our 'casual' agreement is about to hit its first major test.
But then he points out a hawk circling overhead, and the moment passes.
Coward. I'm nothing but a coward.
We reach Lone Pine Lookout as the sun climbs higher, making everything look like it's been dipped in magic. The view is stunning up here. Rolling peaks stretching endlessly toward the horizon, valleys wrapped in whispers of late-morning mist, and a sky so impossibly blue it actually hurts to look at.
I forget to breathe for a solid five seconds.
Chase spreads a blanket near the weathered pine tree and unpacks the lunch he prepared: salad rolls from Betty's, fresh fruit, a thermos of cold lemonade, and—
"Gummy bears." I laugh as he pulls out the familiar packet. "Of course."
"The last ones from Lily's most recent shipment." He tears it open, offering me first pick. "She sent three pounds this time, but with you around, they haven't lasted long."
I select a red one—cherry, my favorite—and pop it into my mouth. The sweet-tart flavor bursts across my tongue, and I settle onto the blanket beside him.
We eat in comfortable silence, the kind that only comes when you're completely at ease with someone. When you don't need to fill every second with words.
But the silence also gives my thoughts too much room to spiral.
I glance at Chase, his profile outlined against the sky, and my heart aches. Two weeks without his warm smile, his infectious laugh, his gentle touch. Fourteen nights without falling asleep in his arms, without waking up to his kisses.
The thought is unbearable, a constant drumbeat echoing through my mind.Closer, closer, closer... the clock is ticking, time moving too quickly until I have to board that plane.
Until I have to leave him behind.
Chase finishes his sandwich and leans back on his elbows, face tilted toward the sun. "So… are you coming to the dance next weekend?"
I glance at him with a frown.
"Dance?"
