|photo by Patrick Robert Doyle from Unsplash|
Chase gives my slightly-clingy sweater dress the once-over when I walk out the front door. I packed for this trip under duress and my jeans are still damp from our walk on the beach. This was my only option.
But yeah, I look like I'm dressed for a date.
We don't follow the sign to Montauk. I have a feeling "lunch" was more of a message to Conner than an actual plan but when I ask Chase about it, he says, "One of us will explain it to you one day."
"I really appreciate the ride," I say after miles of uncomfortable silence.
Uncomfortable for me. Chase seems perfectly content driving the Lamborghini.
"My pleasure," he says, genuine enough.
"Are you staying in the city?"
He shakes his head. "There'll be another party on the beach tonight."
I'm not sure if it's my guilt-ridden perception or if something has really changed between us but I don't like this polite, distant version of Chase Tinsley. "I'd feel better if I knew you were sleeping right next door to me," I tell him.
His lips curl despite his effort to fight a smile. "The micro-mutt is a badass. You'll be fine."
"I really am nervous about staying in the penthouse by myself." I say. "That wasn't just bait for your inner pervert."
He laughs this time, the same great laugh from the beach. Then he picks up my hand and kisses it. I'm not quite sure what this means coming from him but I'm hoping for forgiveness.
I wish I had the nerve to ask for it. "Will you wait for me Tuesday morning?" I ask.
He glances at me and shakes his head again. "Your life is complicated enough."
* * *
Chase must've coordinated an arrival time with Conner because he's here, leaning against my aunt's apartment building, wearing faded jeans and a black shirt just tight enough to show off his swimmer's build.
He opens my door and offers a hand. I'm sure it's an automatic gesture. He's just being polite. But since last night's conversation—after I finally accepted Conner's invitation—I've replayed his response more times than I care to admit. And I get goose bumps every single time.
I don't think casual contact is a good idea. So I hand him my overnight bag.
Conner accepts it with a nod, takes a step back and watches me get out of the car. He doesn't ogle my dress the way Chase did, but there's an appreciative lift in his eyebrows.
This is the first time we've seen each other in regular clothes. It seems weird that it would make a difference, but it definitely does. I guess the Zachary uniform is sort of a constant. I know who we are at school. This version of Conner and Thea is brand new territory.
He walks around the Lamborghini to shake hands with Chase. He says, "Thank you," and a few words I can't hear. Chase winks at me before he weaves into the traffic, leaving Conner and I alone.
"We can leave your bag with Louis," he says. "Unless you need to go up to the penthouse."
"Who's Louis?"
"The doorman."
"Spent some time here, have you?"
Conner smiles, nods. "Do you need to go upstairs?"
YOU ARE READING
Goodbye Yellow Brick Road ✔︎
Teen FictionWhen seventeen-year-old Thea Allen's small-town private school is destroyed by a tornado, her mother seizes the opportunity to expose her to new experiences and new people. Translation: Mom wants to put hundreds of miles between Thea and her forever...
