her with droplets, “is called doing something just because you feel like it and not giving a rat’s ass what anyone else thinks.” He smiled at her. “Fun, huh?”
She stared at him for what seemed like forever, saying nothing, until finally she pressed her lips together, stifling the giggle that quickly ballooned into irrepressible, hysterical laughter.
He laughed then, which only made her laugh harder, and in that moment, Chase was overcome with the completely inapt desire to swim over and wrap his arms around her.
But instead, he stayed where he was, treading water and listening to the sounds of their splashes combining with her unrestrained laughter like the most beautiful symphony.
.
C HAPTER S EVEN
A fter they stopped at a gas station to change into some dry clothes, Andie had good-naturedly revoked Chase’s driving privileges on the grounds that he could no longer be trusted. He agreed, under the condition that if he were to be stuck in the passenger seat again, he should at least get to pick the music they listened to. They had shaken on it before Chase tossed her the keys with an amused expression.
Now, Andie sat in the driver’s seat again; the space between them was quiet, an easy comfortable silence as Chase scrolled through her iPod looking for something to listen to. After a few minutes, he finally hit the button before snapping it into the dock and leaning back in his seat.
The opening chords to Counting Crow’s “Colorblind” filled the car, and Andie rested her head back against the seat and fought the urge to close her eyes. It was one of her favorite songs, just as much for the haunting melody as for the profound lyrics. The chords seemed to vibrate through her, warming her from the inside out, and as they drove down the desolate stretch of highway, she couldn’t remember the last time she felt so contented.
She lazily turned her head to the side, looking at Chase; his head was back against the seat and his eyes were closed. The T-shirt he had changed into clung to his still-damp skin. There was the faintest hint of a five o’clock shadow defining his jawline, and his hair flipped away from his forehead and ears in wet curls, looking much darker than it was. Just before she turned her eyes back to the road, she noticed his hand on his thigh, his fingers moving to the notes as if he were playing some unseen piano.
“Do you play?” she asked.
“Mm-hm,” he hummed softly, his eyes still closed.
“Can you play this?”
He nodded. “It’s pretty simple,” he said. “The chords, I mean. Not the song. The song itself, the lyrics are just…” He trailed off, his voice lazy.
“Yeah, I know,” Andie said gently. They fell into silence again, listening to the song, until Andie sighed softly. “I’ve always wanted to play.”
Chase lifted his head to look at her. “You don’t play? You have a piano.”
“I know,” she said, shrugging guiltily, “I just thought it looked nice in the room.”
He smiled at that before resting his head back on the seat. “I’ll teach you to play this.”
“You will?” Andie asked, unable to keep the surprise out of her voice.
“Mm-hm. If you want,” he said softly, closing his eyes again.
She turned her eyes back to the road as the oddest feeling washed over her. For a second, she almost felt disoriented. How could only twenty-four hours have passed since they started this trip? To her, it felt like so much longer than that. And not in the way that a task seems to take forever when it’s tedious or mundane, but more in the way that she felt like the person sitting next to her was someone completely different from the one who climbed into her passenger seat yesterday morning. This person wasn’t callous, he wasn’t crude, he wasn’t antagonistic; he was smart, and funny, and sweet.
At that moment the disorientation gave way to a different, but much stronger feeling.
Shame.
Because she realized then that Chase had always been
She stared at him for what seemed like forever, saying nothing, until finally she pressed her lips together, stifling the giggle that quickly ballooned into irrepressible, hysterical laughter.
He laughed then, which only made her laugh harder, and in that moment, Chase was overcome with the completely inapt desire to swim over and wrap his arms around her.
But instead, he stayed where he was, treading water and listening to the sounds of their splashes combining with her unrestrained laughter like the most beautiful symphony.
.
C HAPTER S EVEN
A fter they stopped at a gas station to change into some dry clothes, Andie had good-naturedly revoked Chase’s driving privileges on the grounds that he could no longer be trusted. He agreed, under the condition that if he were to be stuck in the passenger seat again, he should at least get to pick the music they listened to. They had shaken on it before Chase tossed her the keys with an amused expression.
Now, Andie sat in the driver’s seat again; the space between them was quiet, an easy comfortable silence as Chase scrolled through her iPod looking for something to listen to. After a few minutes, he finally hit the button before snapping it into the dock and leaning back in his seat.
The opening chords to Counting Crow’s “Colorblind” filled the car, and Andie rested her head back against the seat and fought the urge to close her eyes. It was one of her favorite songs, just as much for the haunting melody as for the profound lyrics. The chords seemed to vibrate through her, warming her from the inside out, and as they drove down the desolate stretch of highway, she couldn’t remember the last time she felt so contented.
She lazily turned her head to the side, looking at Chase; his head was back against the seat and his eyes were closed. The T-shirt he had changed into clung to his still-damp skin. There was the faintest hint of a five o’clock shadow defining his jawline, and his hair flipped away from his forehead and ears in wet curls, looking much darker than it was. Just before she turned her eyes back to the road, she noticed his hand on his thigh, his fingers moving to the notes as if he were playing some unseen piano.
“Do you play?” she asked.
“Mm-hm,” he hummed softly, his eyes still closed.
“Can you play this?”
He nodded. “It’s pretty simple,” he said. “The chords, I mean. Not the song. The song itself, the lyrics are just…” He trailed off, his voice lazy.
“Yeah, I know,” Andie said gently. They fell into silence again, listening to the song, until Andie sighed softly. “I’ve always wanted to play.”
Chase lifted his head to look at her. “You don’t play? You have a piano.”
“I know,” she said, shrugging guiltily, “I just thought it looked nice in the room.”
He smiled at that before resting his head back on the seat. “I’ll teach you to play this.”
“You will?” Andie asked, unable to keep the surprise out of her voice.
“Mm-hm. If you want,” he said softly, closing his eyes again.
She turned her eyes back to the road as the oddest feeling washed over her. For a second, she almost felt disoriented. How could only twenty-four hours have passed since they started this trip? To her, it felt like so much longer than that. And not in the way that a task seems to take forever when it’s tedious or mundane, but more in the way that she felt like the person sitting next to her was someone completely different from the one who climbed into her passenger seat yesterday morning. This person wasn’t callous, he wasn’t crude, he wasn’t antagonistic; he was smart, and funny, and sweet.
At that moment the disorientation gave way to a different, but much stronger feeling.
Shame.
Because she realized then that Chase had always been
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