13

MY MIND KEEPS wandering back to what happened in Chase's hallway yesterday.

The pained expression on his face will forever be embedded in my mind. To say I was shocked when he'd called that woman his mother is an understatement.

She looked like she hadn't slept in days, her eyes rimmed firmly with dark patches. And I know my place, I can't judge her. I don't know her or what happened between them, for that matter.

She looks better than the last one.

What did that mean? I tried to tell myself I didn't care. That Chase's life isn't really my business.

But curiosity eats away at me, remembering the way she had spoke to him—and him to her. Which is why I find myself now standing in front of Blake and Lucas, who seem to be having yet another argument.

The day these boys stopped arguing is the day pigs will fly: which is never.

I clear my throat loudly enough, causing them to turn their heads toward me. "Matthews!" Lucas chants, bumping his shoulder with mine. "Come for a round two with our Chasey? I have a bottle of water in my backpack. "

Blake rolls his eyes, casting off Lucas' words. "Rhodes isn't here. He got locked into a conversation with Mr. Wilson," Blake informs me.

I'm tempted to tell them I already know this, we have history class together, after all. But I keep my lips sealed.

"I was actually looking for you two," I say, trying to sound as casual as possible.

Lucas smirks, "Our Chasey not doing it for you anymore?"

Blake elbows him in the stomach, "Thank you," I say narrowing my eyes at Lucas, he nods.

"We're all ears, Lila," Blake encourages, throwing a glare in Lucas's direction.

I clear my throat once again, wondering how I should go about this. I can't just come out and say it, can I? That would be weird.

Not to mention they would start asking questions, and Lord knows I don't have the time for that.

"I was—uh, wondering," I begin, wringing my hands out.

"I sometimes wonder too. Here's a tip: don't," Lucas winks at me and I blow out a breath.

"Just ignore him, we've all learned to," Blake reassures, waving his hand about.

"I was just wondering about...Chase's...football game?" I say, mentally banging my head against a wall.

God, that is not why I came at all. I actually plan to steer very clear of that field, giving what happened last time.

My bruise still hasn't fully gone away, something I took notice of this morning. The yellowish tint still prominent even under my concealer.

Blake raises a brow, "His football game?"

I look up, cringing. So, so stupid.

"Yep!" I laugh lightly. "Go Knights!"

Oh my God. I need to start carrying tape around with me, maybe that'll help keep my mouth shut.

Lucas places a firm hand on my shoulder, leaning in slightly with his brows furrowed. "Lila...are you okay? Do I need to take you to the nurse's office?"

I step out of his hold, batting his hand away, with my jaw clenched. "I'm fine."

"You sure? It's just down the hall," he jerks his thumb behind him and I roll my eyes.

"You're an asshole," I mutter. "Forget I asked."

"Hey, wait! Don't listen to him. His game is next Saturday, he would love for you to come. I think," Blake says, smiling at me.

I chew on my lip, wondering how the hell I'm going to be able to get out of this lie. "Thanks. I'll...think about it?"

"Great! See ya, Li!" Lucas says suddenly, spinning on his heel, jerking Blake with him despite his protests.

"Li?" I repeat in disgust, turning around. What I just did was lie. How ironic.

I'm just about to make my way to the parking lot when someone calls my name out.

My head shoots up and Chase waves to me from across the hall. My eyes widen, seeing other people staring at me.

This is my worst nightmare. And I had planned to keep it in my dreams, but here we are.

He speeds up to me, throwing his bag over his shoulder and grinning at me.

But no matter how hard he grins, I can't get rid of his frown from yesterday.

Just like the numbers I memorized from those student files, I've memorized every expression and line on his face from yesterday. And I don't think it's going anywhere.

I quickly glance at the floor, clearing my throat once he's reached me. "Hi," he speaks, still smiling.

I nod my head, "Hi."

For some reason his grin only deepens, and it's then when I notice a dimple on his left cheek. "What are you up to?"

My eyes fly to his and my brows shoot up. I quickly shake my head. "Nothing," I rush out. "Just—nothing."

"It didn't look like nothing," he sings, leaning closer now. "Asking around about me now?"

My cheeks flame but I whack his arm, glaring, "You wish."

"I don't have to wish, Matthews," he winks.

I want to know how he can do that. How he can just pretend nothing happened yesterday. That everything is fine when I know for a fact it isn't.

I want to ask, I really, really, do. But I keep my mouth shut. I know it isn't my place—nor the time.

This is only pretend—our thing—and it'll be much easier if I stay out of his personal business.

"I...um...need to go now," I say, cringing at my own words.

His brows draw together and I'm chanting one thing in my mind: don't ask, don't ask, don't ask. But, of course, because he's Chase Rhodes, he asks, "Where are you going?"

"Hm?" I say, choking on my words. God, I wish I could punch myself right now.

His eyes narrow, "Where are you going, Matthews? Got a hot date?"

I inhale deeply, "What if I do?" I don't. I definitely do not. But Chase's jaw hardens briefly before he shakes his head, whistling lowly.

"I doubt it, unless he's some mathlete that tells number related knock-knock jokes—then maybe I'll believe it. Not to mention it's the middle of the day," he smirks, crossing his arms over his chest.

I ignore the last part. "Is that what you think my type is?" I scoff. I mean, there's nothing wrong with mathletes—being smart is hot—but I know he's using this to piss me off, so I decide to play at his game.

"Are you going to tell me it's not?"

I bite the inside of my cheek, "That is not my type," I argue, now fully aware that the hallway has almost fully cleared, students either filing to the cafeteria or to their own cars for lunch.

"No? Then what is your type?"

I swallow, "I don't have a type. I'm type-free."

Someone needs to punch me.

"Righttt," he draws out. "Type-free."

"Shut up," I grumble.

"Only because you asked so nicely," he lifts his hand to his mouth, making a show of pretending to zip his lips shut and lock them.

I roll my eyes at the absolute childishness of his actions, turning on my heel. "Hey, c'mon!" He yells, catching up with me. "Are you...okay?"

Am I okay? Somehow I feel like I should be the one asking him that—not the other way around. I whip my head to the side, giving him a small smile. "I'm okay," I say, watching his shoulders drop slightly.

"Good," he says. Then again, "Good."

The cool air breezes past me as we walk into the parking lot. Students still linger, chatting aimlessly as they eat on the quad, some even glancing our way with their noses wrinkled.

I wonder if I could flip them off without Chase noticing.

"Don't even think about it," Chase warns, looking in their direction. "Keep walking, Matthews."

I roll my eyes, wondering how he even knew what I was thinking. "I wasn't doing anything," I say, widening my eyes innocently.

"I'm not an idiot," he half-sings.

"Could've fooled me," I snort, looking away from the group of students.

"Always the flatterer," Chase says smiling tightly.

I stick my tongue out at him, fully aware of how childish I'm being. I think I'm spending too much time around him.

"Did you just stick your tongue out at me?"

I shrug, "Maybe."

"And you say I'm childish," Chase says, way too casually for my liking.

"You are," I scoff. "How else did you get reeled into a conversation with Mr. Wilson?" I demand, jerking my head to look at him.

He narrows his eyes on me, "The same way you do almost every day, I imagine."

I flip him off instead.

Chase laughs at what I can only guess is my very annoyed face, "Relax. There's practically steam coming out of your ears."

I want argue, saying there isn't, but I immediately shut my mouth.

"Anyway," he starts. "are you going to tell me where you're headed?"

I throw my head back, "This again?"

"Of course, how else will I know where to drop you off?" He says, and I realize we've been walking in the direction to his car this whole time.

"Who said I needed a ride?" I say, scoffing.

"Do you plan to walk there?" He says, disbelieving.

There doesn't even exist. And if it did, there would be no way I would walk there, but I don't say this.

"Yes," I say, crossing my arms over my chest. "Walking is good for the heart."

"It's also the remedy of death for people with asthma," he says, copying my stance.

"I don't have asthma?" I say, raising a brow at him.

"Maybe not, but you should still let me drive you there," he insists, pressing further.

I roll my eyes. "You're not gonna let this go, are you?"

"Nope."

I groan. "Fine."

He grins at me, clearly triumphant over his small win. I climb into the car, biting my lip

as I try to come up with a place of what there is.

Shit. I need to stop digging a bigger hole for myself.

At this rate, all my lies are going to get me a one-way ticket to hell.

I drop my head against the seat, glancing at Chase who is entirely focused on the radio, switching from some random pop song to Arabella by Arctic Monkeys.

I jerk upright. "You like Arctic Monkeys?"

Just might have tapped into your mind and soul

You can never be sure.

The lyrics play out as he looks over at me, "There are people who don't?"

It's an exploration, she's made of outer space

And her lips are like the galaxy's edge.

"People hate on anything," I inform him. "Literally anything."

"Hm," he hums, turning the volume up. "not ice cream," he argues.

My days end best when the sunset gets itself.

I laugh loudly, "I despise ice cream."

Slowly, he turns to me. "Sorry, couldn't hear you, it almost sounded like you said you didn't like ice cream." He turns the volume back down.

"That's exactly what I said," I raise a brow. He blinks at me. Twice.

My lips spread into a grin at his expression.

"I'm sorry..." he begins. "I don't think this is going to work out," he warns, gesturing between us.

I gasp dramatically, "You're breaking up with me? After all we've been through?"

He shakes his head. "It's just too much—I'm sorry."

I fight back a laugh. "How could you do this?"

"It's not you, it's me!" He says, holding up a hand in defense.

This time, a laugh does break out of me. "If we were actually breaking up—I would punch you again for using that line."

"Is that a challenge?"

I open my mouth to respond, but it shuts when I realize we've been driving randomly for the past five minutes. "Where are we going?"

Chase looks over at me and grins—which should make me scared. But it doesn't for some reason, I just raise a brow in question, waiting for his response.

"I think it's time I converted you to the dark side," he says, sounding almost ominous.

"You lost me," I admit, glancing out the window.

He sighs heavily, "We're getting ice cream. And you're going to love it."

I scoff, "I highly doubt that."

"Challenge accepted," he says, and I don't miss the British lilt to his words.

— — —

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