Goodbye Yellow Brick Road ✔︎

18 | Wicked Witch of the Upper East Side

"I'm impressed," I admit. "My dad won't even let me drive his thirty-thousand dollar pickup truck."

"I'll let you drive when we get out of town," Chase offers.

I shake my head. "That would be illegal."

His forehead wrinkles, like he's seriously contemplating this new insight into my personality. His phone rings before he can voice a reply. He looks at the number, grimaces and gives me an apologetic smile before he answers.

I take advantage of his distraction and write a quick text to Conner: The Wicked Witch of the Upper East Side is making me go to the Hamptons this weekend.

Chase makes minimal contributions to his phone call. I count one no and two yeses. When he needs to shifts gears, he does it with the phone in his hand—without letting his caller know he's no longer listening—and when he hangs up, he tosses the phone on the dashboard.

"That was Emily," he says. "I am not to take your 'inhospitable attitude' personally. Apparently, she's given you reason to be angry at her?"

"I found out about this trip..." I check the time on my phone. "Forty-three minutes ago."

He nods at this, apparently satisfied, but I'm on a roll now. "This trip was not optional for me," I add. "Even though I told her I already had plans. Then, she told me she's hired a voice coach to get rid of my 'twang.' I think I'm starting to hate her."

This gets a nod as well. It feels like an amen.

And then my phone beeps. I have a reply from Conner: Are you going to Water Mill?

"Where are we going?" I ask Chase.

"Water Mill."

Huh.

I type: How did you know?

Any chance you're in the passenger seat of a black Lamborghini?

Mother of shit. "Would you say that you and Conner are good friends?"

"Shit," Chase says, pounding his fist on the steering wheel. "Is that him?" 

"Yes." 

"I was supposed to call him. Will you tell him I'm sorry?"

I type: Chase says he's sorry he forgot to call you. Explain please?

You're in my spot.

"Conner usually makes this trip with you?"

"Every year since sixth grade," Chase says, sounding genuinely remorseful. Then his phone rings. He leans forward to retrieve it from the dashboard, looks at the number and grins. "Seriously, man, I'm sorry. I was supposed to tell you two weeks ago. Mom said to tell you she would make it up to you."

Wow. So they really are friends.

"That's what I told her you'd say," Chase tells him.

After a pensive moment, he glances at me, one eyebrow raised, and says, "Sure. No problem."

He hangs up and Conner's text comes a moment later: Chase can bring you back to the city on Sunday...

Crap.

"Firming up your plans?" Chase asks.

He's focused on the road in a way that feels intentional—and I'm grateful. My face is on fire.

"Conner and I talked about doing something this weekend, a friend thing, but I didn't do a very good job of telling him no. I'm supposed to hang out with Paige, though. Possibly. So I still might need a ride if you're willing."

"The ride's not a problem," he says. "I like driving this car."

I let that sit with me for a moment, because there's something weird about the way he stressed the ride. "Are you suggesting that something else is a problem?" I ask.

Chase gives me the hottie-half smile. He weaves the car into an open space, shifts gears and we fly. The wind cools the heat on my cheeks. It really is an awesome car.

"Paige's father is related to mine," he says.

It sounds more like a veiled warning than an answer.

I decide to express my observation out loud. Then add, "Conner only offered to give me a tour of the city because I didn't have plans for the weekend and he felt sorry for me. But that was before I made plans with Paige—and I never said I would..."

Ugh. I'm working way too hard to make myself sound innocent. "I know how Paige feels about him," I say.

Chase holds up both palms in surrender.

"Hey!" I yell, frantically pointing, and he puts them back on the steering wheel.

"If I was inclined to issue a warning," he says. "It would be that Paige doesn't know how she feels. About Conner or anyone else."

"Anyone else, meaning me?"

"I said what I mean, Thea."

"Okay, Chase. Well. Thanks, I guess."

He nods politely and we sit in silence until my phone buzzes. Conner: Sorry. I probably should've asked you first. Should I call him back and cancel?

I type: No to the call back. Yes to ask first next time. Apology accepted. But I think we should reschedule the tour to another weekend. Let me know how it goes with Paige Saturday night.

Another message buzzes onto my screen before I press send: btw... lmao about the wicked witch.

I hate that I missed that laugh. I should've waited to tell him in person.

"That smile might be a problem," Chase says. "If it's for your friend, Conner."

I send my text, frowning. Then type: btw... the Tin Man is kind of an ass.