Page 24 of A Christmas Road Trip

“Oh. Then why did it upset you?”

“It didn’t.”

“Why are you lying to me?” His head is bent down, trying to see my expression past the curtain of hair I’ve let drop.

“I’m not lying. She’s just not my favorite person. Let’s get going.”

“Sure.” He’s stopped watching me so closely as he holds the door open for me and falls into step beside me on our way to the parking lot. But I can still feel him slanting me little looks.

He wants to know what’s going on with me. And he’s not likely to be brushed off for long.

WE DRIVE OUT TO A PUBLIC parking area where a few of the hiking trails start out. There, we change our shoes and pack some snacks and bottles of water in Chase’s backpack with an old blanket I always keep in my trunk.

Before we get going, he reaches a hand out for my phone. He slips it with his own phone in the small front pocket of his pack before sliding it up over his shoulders. I zip up my fleece hoodie, and Chase puts a hand on my back to guide me toward the trailhead.

I’m determined to have a good afternoon and not brood about my conversation with Carly.

For the most part, I do a good job. Chase is as good a hiking companion as he is with everything else. He’s pleasant and engaging and doesn’t insist on filling every moment with talk, and he’s good about helping me up the steeper inclines—even if I don’t strictly need the extra support.

It makes me feel like he notices me. Cares about me. Wants me to have a good time.

It’s hard not to compare his behavior to how Brian was with me. Once, Brian and I were heading into Charlotte for dinner, and he was driving like he was on a speedway. Something about the weather and the speed and the time of the month combined to make me really carsick. I was close to throwing up, not saying a word and breathing raggedly, and he was still rambling on about his annoying day, completely oblivious to my condition.

I should have known then who he was and what our relationship would always be, but I talked myself out of it over and over again.

Chase was right a couple of weeks ago when he said that it feels different with someone who treats you right.

Even if he’s not my boyfriend.

We hike for about an hour and then decide to take a break right as the trail starts to curve back around and head downhill. We find a sunny, out-of-the-way spot to spread out our blanket, and then we have some water and trail mix.

I eat most of the chocolate and cashews, and Chase doesn’t mind at all.

Afterward, he stretches out on the blanket and closes his eyes. I lie next to him, watching his face for a minute and thinking about him. I barely manage to turn my head and close my eyes in time before he catches me looking.

He doesn’t say anything, and after a minute I’m curious about his expression, so I glance over.

He’s watching me quietly.

“What?” I ask at last.

“Are you going to tell me?”

I swallow. I know exactly what he’s asking. He still wants to know what was bothering me after lunch when I was talking to Carly.

I guess that’s the problem with someone who really notices you. He’s going to notice everything.

“It’s nothing really.”

“If it’s nothing, then it should be no problem telling me.”

I chew on my lower lip. Then realize it’s a nervous habit and make myself stop. “I knew Carly in college.”

“That’s what you said before. Was she some sort of mean girl?”

“No. Not at all. Overall she was pretty nice. We were in a lot of the same classes, so I was around her a lot. She was usually nice to me. A little self-focused maybe, but it was college. Everyone was kind of self-focused back then.”

“So why did seeing her bother you?”

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