Page 61 of Chasing Lyric
I am owed an answer.
Taking a deep breath, I hit send.
My foot taps on the floor as I wait impatiently. Anticipation or nerves take hold—I can’t tell which one. I’m expecting something, but nothing comes back. My anxiety grows with each passing minute until almost half an hour has passed. I know Rory’s out there working on her own, and I need to do my job.
Chase can officiallygo to hell.
I groan, throwing my cell on top of the nearby cleaning cupboard and walking back out the front with a loud, exasperated huff.
Rory grimaces. “So… he’s married, then?”
“Still not sure. He’s giving me the silent treatment.”
Her nose pushes up like she has smelled something bad. “I’m so sorry, Lyri.”
I shrug, then get on with my day.
Even though there’s a hollow pit in the bottom of my stomach.
***
The day’s been busy.
I haven’t had a moment to stop and think about Chase, which has been a saving grace.
I’ve started closing up, and as I go to place some disinfectant in the back cupboard, I notice my cell sitting where I dumped it this morning. Regrettably, I pick it up, taking a deep breath, then swipe it to turn on the screen. I see two missed calls and a text from Rip and one from Chase. My heart flutters a little, but then it thumps hard, wondering if Chase’s called to say goodbye.
I can’t face Chase just yet, so I open Rip’s picture text instead. It’s Doughnut, flat on his back like a beached walrus, if walruses had hooves, with a tiny black cat perched on top of him likeit owns the joint. The cat looks absolutely done with life, while Doughnut’s tongue lolls out the side of his mouth like he’s just discovered nirvana through interspecies friendship. And of course, Rip’s half in the frame, grinning like a maniac and throwing up the shaka sign like he’s some surfer god instead of a badass biker squished into a selfie with a goat and a grumpy cat.
I can’t help it.
A smile creeps across my face.
The photograph is chaotic, ridiculous, and precisely what I need. A little hit of happiness to ease the pressure cooker my brain’s been stewing in all day.
But I’m torn.
I don’t want to read Chase’s message in case it’s bad.
But I guess it’s best to rip the Band-Aid off, as they say.
With a sigh, I slowly open the text, squinting as I read it as if trying to shield myself from the pain that’s inevitably about to pour off the screen and straight into my heart.
Chase:Tried to call. Sorry for being absent. Work was really intense for a while. Am I married? To my job maybe? Do I have a girlfriend? Depends. I was hoping to ask this new girl I’ve been seeing that very question, but I have a feeling she’s angry with me. Can I let you know when I know?
My eyes shoot open as I read his message. “Holy crap.”
Rory pops her head around the corner. “You okay?”
My eyes slowly glance up. “I think Chase just asked me to be his girlfriend in the most roundabout, weirdest way possible.”
She lunges into the room, grabs my cell from me, and assesses the text. Her eyes widen with delight. “Ahh… that would be a yes. I do believe that was his way of asking you. Heisa weird one, that gorgeous hunk of a man.”
“Well, what the hell do I say to that?”
She snorts out a laugh. “Oh, sweetheart, you proposition him right back.”
I bite my bottom lip, then type out my reply.
