Page 102 of Tell Me When It's Over

She says, “It’ll be okay, Lenny Lou.”

I manage to nod, but I don’t believe it.

I’m distracted all throughout dinner, nodding absentmindedly as Chase talks. I don’t even remember what I ordered, if I liked it, and barely recall thanking him—though I’m sure I did because it’s an automatic response for me.

By the time we arrive at his friend’s party, Chase watches me with a careful eye, and I can hardly meet them because of the guilt over the day’s events. Things he asked me about and I avoided by redirecting the conversation because my lips and limbs and chest all still prickle with heat and shock.

Before leaving Mia’s house earlier, she pulled me aside and said, “Don’t beat yourself up, Lenny. You did nothing wrong.”

She saw it in my eyes, the shame that ate me in accusation. The thing is, I can’t allow myself to believe I did nothing wrong because a piece of my heart knows it’s not true. Actors and actresses kiss their coworkers all the time on the job. It’s no big deal when they go home to their significant others and share a kiss that means something more.

But the kiss I shared…

It meant everything.

“You okay?” Chase asks over the loud music, leaning into me. It’s a fair question that I expected him to ask sooner, not that I’m complaining.

The feeble nod I give him isn’t lost on him. He frowns, those usually upward-curved, playful lips weighing with my baggage. I’m ruining his night.

Sighing, I rub my arm. “I’m actually not feeling well,” I tell him, opting for a partial truth so I don’t layer on the ill feelings I already have. I want to be honest, but I don’t even know what to say—can’t put it into words. “I think I want to go home and sleep it off.”

We

met his friend Jake when we first arrived over an hour ago. They hugged it out, his friend told us where to get drinks, and then we mingled with a few other people Chase knew. I did my best to smile and shake hands with people whose names I don’t remember, but my thoughts have been elsewhere since.

Chase’s hand finds mine, threading our fingers together. “Are you okay?”

Licking my lips, I look toward the door, barricaded by bodies, and gnaw on the inside of my cheek. “Just tired. I’ve got a headache.”

I feel bad for lying. He doesn’t deserve it.

He doesn’t deserve this.

Swallowing, I nod when he tells me he’ll get us out of here. When we pass Jake, who is schmoozing some redhead with big boobs, they exchange a friendly man-hug and shoulder pat before Jake kisses my cheek in goodbye. He yells, “It was nice meeting you, Leighton” only cementing what a horrible person I am because I barely paid attention to him besides a distant “Congrats” on his job.

On the ride home, the car is quiet. The radio is nothing more than a low hum because Chase, being thoughtful as always, tells me he doesn’t want my headache getting worse. He offers to stop somewhere and get medicine since his friend’s house is a solid forty minutes from mine, but I shake my head, give him my best smile, and tell him I’ll be okay.

My body is tense the entire way. He barely says anything, doesn’t hold my hand, but sometimes brushes my leg to let me know he’s here for me.

He doesn’t deserve this.

When he pulls into the driveway after punching in the gate code, he shuts the car off and turns to me. “You’re pale. Is there anything I can do? Get you something?”

I unbuckle, looking at the dimly lit house. Only a few lights are on upstairs by the looks of it, so I know Kyler is home. He said he had to go after…things happened at Mia’s. She told me not to think about it, that she’d talk to Kyler, and said I should enjoy my evening. How could I when I may have ruined everything?

I didn’t say his character’s name.

I said his.

I said ‘please, Kyler.’

Closing my eyes for a moment, I take a deep breath. I’m not in the right state of mind to voice my thoughts right now. Not about Kyler, and not about Chase. I need to sleep on it. To think. The last thing I want is to hurt either of them, but I think, based on the way Chase’s wary eyes scope out my face, it’s too late. It probably has been for a while.

“I just need to sleep,” I assure him halfheartedly, but not even I convince myself.

He leans in and presses a soft kiss to my lips, and I don’t mean to do it, but it happens before I can stop. I freeze. Tense up, drawing back ever so slightly, enough for our lips to stop touching.

Chase blinks. “Well…good night.” His tone is resigned as he begins sitting back. I press another kiss to his cheek and get out of the car, thankful he doesn’t walk me in. I’m closing the door behind me, hyperaware the car is still parked there, when I realize he must have read my body language. That he must know what I won’t let myself.

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