Page 85 of The Other Side
30
Chance Harper was staring at me.
To clarify further, he had been watching me as I slept.
“Ugh.” I covered my face with my hands. “Why are you staring at me?” I grumbled.
Chance just chuckled, placing soft kisses down my forearms, probably because he couldn’t reach my face.
“Still stalking me, I see.” I tried to push him away, but that only made him grab me around my middle and pull me into his chest. “Once a creep, always a creep.”
“You’re just mad because you like it.” Chance’s morning voice was painfully husky—like I was ready to crawl back on top of him and show him some other tricks I had up my sleeve, husky.
I groaned, not wanting to admit it out loud.
Chance pried my hands from my face, needing to see me when he asked, “Any regrets?”
I sighed, “No.”
“I’m glad you’re so thrilled about that,” he half chuckled, half winced.
“I don’t regret anything,” I stated more firmly.
“I sense a ‘but.’” He used the pad of his thumb to gently run across the length of my bottom lip, causing heat to flare as all the details from the night before came pouring in, like gasoline on a fire.
But with the desire, also came the reality of what we’d done…what I’d done. Chance and I had passed the point of no return. There simply was no going back. Either we kept moving forward, or it was over, and I knew it couldn’t be over. I was in too deep.
“Talk to me,” Chance pleaded, his face crestfallen. “You’re worrying me.”
“It’s not us.” I stumbled to try and find the right words. I didn’t want him to misunderstand. So I started there. “I’m processing everything. I don’t regret last night. I promise. I don’t regret you.”
The corner of his mouth curved just enough that I thought he understood.
“I can’t help but worry, but it’s not that I worry about you.” I swallowed. “I’m worried about getting caught. I’m worried about what happens when we go back to school. I’m worried about what you’ll expect from me and how quickly, because things went really fast last night.”
Chance’s brow furrowed.
“I wasn’t pressured—I wanted to,” I stuttered. “I just—it wasn’t planned. I didn’t know that was going to happen, and I’m not upset that it did, but my brain needs to catch up.”
Chance still looked tense.
I reached out, taking his closest hand in mine. Being so honest, so very vulnerable, had my nerves frayed, but I wasn’t going to let a miscommunication set us off course. “You made me feel so good. I feel safe with you. And I want to do it again, but I’m just not sure when.”
Those, it seemed, were the right words.
Chance’s shoulders relaxed, and I cuddled into his chest. “I’m not pulling away,” I told him. “I’m fighting so hard to work through my anxiety because this matters.” I looked up at him, his blue-grey eyes still worried, butforme, not because of me. “Becauseyoumatter.”
“Okay.” Chance kissed my forehead. “Okay,” he reassured himself just as much as he tried to reassure me.
Likely because it was Christmas day, the interstate was miraculously cleared and reopened much earlier than either Chance or I thought it would be.
Not wanting to delay my annual Christmas call to my mom, I got her on the line shortly after Chance got back on the highway. But as with most of our calls, it was short, and what was the word Chance had used, oh yes…perfunctory.
And after only a few minutes of surface-level pleasantries, the sound of Jake and Jenny’s children in the background continued to pull my mom’s attention from me. So I ended the call, with my usual promise to call her again soon, although we both knew that “soon” likely meant not for a long while.
The quick call left me feeling hollow. The reminder of so much loss front and center on a day that used to bring me so much joy always made the emptiness so much more tangible. Sensing my discomfort, Chance reached across the console, taking my hand in his, offering a reassuring squeeze, understanding that a physical tether was what I needed.
The rest of the drive back was quiet, yet stilted. I realized the closer we got to Montgomery, the more the tension seemed to increase.
