Page 155 of Chase
He breathes for a few beats, going still against me.
“Is this where you tell me you think it would be good to spend some time apart?”
“No. It’s where I tell you I want you to come on the trip with me.”
“Oh.”
“And I want to talk about something else that’s been on my mind. I know you said you don’t want to be my friend, but I do want to be yours, Chase.”
“What do you mean by that?”
I swallow, and when I finally speak, I start rambling far more than I ever intended to.
“I want to be your friend, but I also want more than that. You probably hate labels, but I’m going to be honest, I don’t. I like labels. I want them. If I could call you my boyfriend, it would mean something to me, even though I know it’s just a word. I’m probably never going to get used to seeing your name in headlines, but I can’t keep hiding every shred of my life forever. I have to accept it. And I know I don’t need to shelter you from it anymore.”
I hold my breath for a moment.
I’m shocked by how anxious I get as I’m waiting for Chase to reply.
I know he dated before he met me, but I got an impression that it was usually casual, and far more focused on short-term flings.
“Are you only asking because you have some secret fetish and now you know I’m pretty when I cry?”
His joke hits me out of nowhere.
I smile despite myself, and I clutch him closer.
“You are impossible.”
“Well, I really didn’t want you to see me like this, so if you do have a fetish, at least I have that in my favor.”
I hum. “No fetish. I wanted to ask you this before this shitshow of a day, by the way, so don’t think for a second it’s about pity. I want you so badly.”
He clicks his tongue. “So you want me to come to LA as your boyfriend.”
“You’ll have to meet my parents, though. They already confirmed they’re driving down from Santa Barbara to visit my house for dinner, on Saturday night.”
“I see.”
“I should warn you, though, that my parents are pretty… formal. A little bit traditional, compared to what I heard from your mom when she called you.”
“I can keep quiet about anything gay, if that’s what you’re saying,” he murmurs.
“What? No. They’re old-school, but they’re not homophobes.”
“Oh.”
“What I mean is that if I’m introducing them to you, I’d want to introduce you as my boyfriend, as well. I want them to know we’re not just… hooking up.”
“So you just don’t want to introduce me as your fuckboy boytoy from New York, huh?”
I feel a smile pulling at the corner of my mouth. “And you should also know that I don’t allow my boyfriend to talk shit about himself or say he isn’t good enough for me. Because I have very good taste, and I wouldn’t letanyonetalk like that to the man I chose like that?—”
“Yes,” he says, suddenly moving to straddle me, pressing his lips hard to mine. “I can’t think straight, or sort out my feelings, or talk very coherently right now, but yes, yes, amillionfucking times yes.”
He falls against me again, and his presence crashes over me like a wave.
And I realize that on a day like this, when everything is coming apart at the edges, there is truly no one in the world I would rather be with than him.
