Page 61 of Tell Me When It's Over

His eyebrows pop up, amusement coating his curled lips.

“Not that you don’t look nice,” I quickly add, fighting off the urge to wince. “Because you do. Look nice, I mean. Really nice. You just don’t look like you.” Shutting up, I press my lips together before I ramble on more.

Humor brightens his eyes as he nudges my foot with his. “Truthfully? This is Garrick’s shirt. He told me I needed to look like I ‘wasn’t homeless for once.’” Rolling his eyes, he chuckles lightly.

I join in, biting my lip to suppress a wider smile from forming. “If Mia had anything to say about my outfit, I’d be in a dress and heels. Then you would have had to hold onto me the entire night or I’d look like Bambi the first time he tries walking.”

A dimple appears in his left cheek that I didn’t notice he had before. “I wouldn’t have minded that so much.”

I blink, blushing at the meaning. This Chase is more forward than the Chase I’m used to. The one who asks me if I want extra butter on my popcorn like that’s an actual question, or the one who tells me Jurassic Park could totally happen in real life because of our modern world’s scientific advancements. I never understood why anyone would want that considering how the movies turned out. The point is, he’s more than playful now, and I’m trying to get used to it.

“I’m not very good at this,” I admit, looking down at the pavement.

“I haven’t been on a date in a while, so I’m no expert on this either.” His comforting remark has me smiling slightly. “Though, if Garrick were here, he’d tell you I’m in a long-term relationship with my hard drive or something equally stupid like that.”

Snorting, I can’t help but say, “I like your brother.”

His expression turns from playful to…not. The twitch of his lips, which start weighing downward at the sides, has me losing my smile. “I get that a lot.”

Blinking, I replay the words in my head before I backtrack. “No! Not like that. I mean, sure, I like Garrick, but only because he picks on you like any sibling would. Like Kyler and Mia does, and it’s nice.” Now would be a bad time to tell him about the poster thing. Or the crush I had. Neither of that matters because I know the popstar now, have interacted with him, and realize I’d be way too uncomfortable if I even had that kind of thought about him. It’s easier to fantasize about some happy-ever-after with your celebrity crush when you know nothing will come of it.

“Chase?” I ask hesitantly, nudging his foot with mine. He knows me well enough by now, so he should believe what I say. I get it, though. He’s seen more of this industry thanks to Garrick than I have, which means he’s more easily accustomed to doubt.

He gives me a few terse nods. “Yeah, I know you didn’t mean it like that. I’ve had a lot of past experiences with girls who would date me to get to my brother. It’s just…” Shaking his head, he gives me a small smile, lifting a shoulder. “You probably get that a lot with Kyler, huh?”

I want to tell him about Beckham, but my chest still hurts from it. It’s the only time I could relate, but not because of Kyler. “Not really. Like I said, I’m not great at this whole dating thing because I never really dated. I mean, I sort of did. Once. That was a few years ago.”

“You’ve only dated once?” he repeats, awe in his tone. I think here we go, waiting for the conversation like the one I had with Kyler. Thankfully, it doesn’t come. The only thing I see on his face is surprise, the kind that’s flattering because he assumes I would have dated more. As if guys noticed me like that. He adds a “huh” before smiling wider. “Well, I better make this one the best you’ve had then. There’s a hamburger joint not too far from here that I like going to. It’s tucked away, not many people usually. You in?”

The sound of a hamburger makes my stomach growl, causing him to laugh and me to blush for what seems like the millionth time. My body is still probably angry at me for having a period where I tried going vegetarian and ate my weight in black bean burgers. It didn’t last long because, eventually, those got expensive and the dollar menu at McDonald’s was more accessible, which is another reason why the old wardrobe I walked away from the first time I left California stopped fitting.

“I’m in,” I tell him.

I dip into his car and take a deep breath before he comes around and drops into the driver’s seat. We exchange another look before I bite my lip and watch the scenery pass out the window, and the conversation we have shifts to pre-teen Leighton, my time spent at the Bishops, and how much easier it’s been adjusting to being back thanks to Kyler.

I don’t miss the way Chase frowns slightly when we settle into the booths across from each other at the cute establishment that smells like fries and cheeseburgers as I tell him about the adventures I’ve had with Ky and Mia, or how he scratches his jaw when I talk about Harry and Mom. But they’re all I know. All I can offer in conversation. In order to know me, people have to know the people I love, and I think he gets that by the time he’s paying the check.

The question is, does he accept it?

My heart is thrumming hard in my chest as Chase parks the car by the front door and turns it off. When Kyler made a point to remind me of the curfew he’d bestowed like I was sixteen again, his eyes weren’t on me. Thankfully, Chase understood perfectly, so here we are.

10:43 p.m.

My stomach is happily fed, maybe more than it needs to be thanks to the double order of loaded cheese fries he got for us, and my mind is whirling with what next scenarios. Some of them nice. A walk to the front door. A hand squeeze. Maybe a sweet kiss on the cheek. Most of them wind up with me making a fool of myself, which I’ve managed—for the most part—not to do all night. That would have been different if Chase hadn’t said, “Pretend we’re just hanging out like any other day. It’s not so different, right?”

He’s right. It’s no different from the other times we’ve hung out together, but that gets me wondering if he ever considered those as more than just two people watching a movie. I’m sure 99 cent microwavable popcorn packets and $3.99 movie rentals aren’t what most people constitute as dates. Unfortunately, that train of thought leads me to think of Beckham. Again.

The first time he held my hand.

Our first kiss…and our second and third.

I was ten times more nervous then, because it was my first everything, and Mom didn’t help with her “advice” which consisted of how much skin to show off and where to buy the cheapest condoms. I was barely sixteen.

My face flames from the thought, which Chase either doesn’t see or pretends not to for my sake. Either way, I’m grateful. I shouldn’t be thinking about Beckham when I’m still on a date.

We walk to the door, still not holding hands, and I can’t help but smile over the night’s events. The movie was good, the food was yummy, and our conversation flowed easily. There isn’t much I didn’t already know about Chase that he divulged, but a few tidbits caught my interest—his love for old western movies, how much he hates the smell of ginger, and his celebrity crush on Jennifer Lawrence, especially after seeing The Hunger Games. I met him match for match, excluding my real celebrity crush considering…well, awkward, choosing to say I didn’t have one instead.

“Did you have fun?” he asks, sliding his hands int

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