I shut my phone off and put it back in my pocket, moving over to stand beside Chas and folding my arms on the top of the railing. The blazer I’m wearing is just long enough to count as a dress; I hope he doesn’t mind me borrowing it for a while.
“Not to add to the creepy ambience or anything, but when I’m just really pissed off about something, I come here and I scream.”
“You scream?” I ask, glancing over at him and cocking a single brow. He’s staring contemplatively at his own reflection in the sliding glass door, like he isn’t totally sure he recognizes himself. I do the same, turning so that I can see my own face reflected back at me.
Black and lime green hair, split straight down the middle. Straight bangs that fall just below my eyebrows. Loose waves gathered into a chignon at the base of my neck. A full mouth with a plump lower lip, a large straight nose, round eyes with raven-black irises. There’s too much makeup on my face, so I reach up and scrub half of it away, like Mulan on the cartoon Disney movie.
“You totally fucked up my blazer, didn’t you?” Chasm asks, and I cringe slightly as he turns to look at me.
“I’ll buy you a new one, pinky promise!” I blurt out with a cringe, lifting up my right hand. What I don’t expect is for him to reach out and hook his little finger with mine. My lips part as I look up at him and we end up staring at each other for an inordinate amount of time.
He drops his hand and I let my arm fall to my side.
“It’s okay, Little Sister. You can keep it.” He turns back to his own reflection and sighs, closing his eyes for a moment. I wonder where he was, all dressed up like this? Or dressed down? Either way, I wonder where he was that he felt he needed the costume. “Consider it an apology for pushing you in the pool. I listened to Parrish bitching about you, and I didn’t even give you a chance. And what I said about your grandparents the other day … you didn’t deserve that.”
“Is this you giving me a chance now?” I ask, my heart stumbling weirdly in my chest, like a drunk person trying to navigate a hedge maze. It feels like I’m going in circles, making my tummy ache with nausea.
“The thing about this place is,” Chasm starts, standing up straight and crossing his arms over his chest. “If you want to just fucking scream, you can scream. But, if you want to just sit in silence, you can do that, too. I’m getting in the car—you do what you need to do.”
He moves away, leaving me alone on the deck. At first, I feel stupid standing there, but then I realize that’s because I’m worrying about what someone else might think about it. What Chasm thinks, what Parrish would think, what Maxine or Tess or my grandparents might think. I’m worried about getting home quickly so Tess isn’t mad. I’m worried about Chasm getting bored waiting for me in his car. I’m worried about what the internet has to say about the show today.
So, here’s what I do.
I move down the deck stairs and into the yard, drag a chair under the protection of a large tree, and then I sit in it. My ass gets wet, but I don’t care. I put my elbows on my knees, my chin in my hands, and I close my eyes.
For almost an hour, I just sit there and listen to the rain.
Chasm doesn’t bother me. And when I finally stand up, suck in a deep breath, and just scream, nobody interrupts me.
When I climb back in the car a half hour after that, he doesn’t seem remotely inconvenienced at having to wait.
“Do you feel better?” he asks me as I glance over and see that he’s playing Tetris on his phone. He loses the game with a measly score of twelve-thousand points. My eye twitches.
“My highest score is six hundred and twelve-thousand,” I tell him, because it’s easier to talk about games than it is to talk about feelings.
“Fuck, you really are a simp for games, huh?”
I reach out before I can stop myself, putting my hand over his. He stares down at it like I’ve slapped him.
“Thank you for bringing me out here,” I say, and I mean it. “I owe you one.”
Chasm smirks at me, and it’s the most confident, self-assured expression I’ve seen on any other human being besides Maxx Wright.
I expect him to blurt out some stupid-ass innuendo or insult me again, but instead all I get is this.
“You don’t owe someone because they were nice to you.” He starts the engine and cranks the volume on the radio, saving me from trying to have to force any conversation.
