One Small Thing(6)

He cocks his head. “Is that a joke?”

“Yes. But not a good one because you’re not laughing.” I stare at the shot in my hand. This has gone more terribly than I imagined.

He exhales heavily. “Because my people skills suck. Joke or not, we both know I haven’t gotten out much in the past three years.”

I have no idea what that means, but since I already pretended to know all about him, I can’t ask for an explanation. “Does that mean I should go?”

“No. You should stay.” The corner of his mouth curves up. “Not gonna lie. This is all very good for my ego.”

“It hasn’t been good for mine,” I admit, a bit testy.

The half smile turns into a full one and my breath catches at how gorgeous he is.

“I’ve never had a girl as pretty as you say so much as hello to me.”

My heart flips over and I’m so dumbstruck I can’t summon a witty reply.

He ducks his head in embarrassment. “Too corny?”

I find my voice. “Too amazing. My head is so big right now I don’t think this house can contain me.”

“Then let’s get out of here.”

“Really?” My eyes grow wide. “Where?”

“Just outside. I like it outside.”

“Me, too.”

He holds out his hand. Mine slips easily into his. His long fingers curl around the back of my hand. Against my palm, there are hard calluses. We leave the shot glasses on the kitchen counter we pass. I don’t need the alcohol now. I’m holding hands with the hottest guy on the planet, and I feel like I’m floating on air.

We maneuver through the crowd. Some people stare. I lift my head. Yeah, I’m with this hottie.

Outside, the noise thins out and so do the people. He leads me down the deck and toward a small shed.

“Do you keep the bodies in there?” I joke.

He halts suddenly. “You have a dark humor, don’t you?”

The remark makes me think of the hysterical laughter that burbled in my throat during Rachel’s funeral. How I covered my face to keep it from spilling out and everyone thought I was sobbing. It wasn’t so much dark humor as a defense mechanism.

“I’d rather laugh than cry,” I admit. “I cry too easily. It’s one thing I hate about myself.”

He lowers himself onto the grass. “That’s not a bad philosophy—the laughing over crying thing.”

“I wish I had more control over my tears. It’s frustrating when I’m mad but everyone thinks I’m sad.” I drop to the ground beside him, wondering why I’m spilling these things to him. I shut up then, and listen to the crickets sing as the faint music in the house plays in the background.

“You have a name?” he teases.

“I’m Beth.”

He rakes a hand through his messy hair. My gaze doesn’t miss the way his biceps flex from that action. He’s got incredible arms. Sculpted.

“I’m Chase.” He tilts his head toward me. “And I still feel like you’re too good to be sitting out here with me.”

“You aren’t holding me down,” I point out. “Are you telling me to leave?”

“No. I don’t want that.” He exhales again and his perfect body is momentarily framed by the thin cotton of his T-shirt.

Gosh, he’s gorgeous.

“It’s beautiful out here, isn’t it?”

I glance up at the night sky and then at Chase’s upturned face. It’s so cloudy you can barely make out the moon, let alone the stars. “I guess?” He’s beautiful. The sky? Not so much.

He chuckles to himself. “It could be raining buckets and I’d be happy.”

“Me, too.” Because I’m with you, I think. I haven’t felt this at peace with myself for weeks, maybe months. The fight with my mom seems like a long-ago bad memory.

His hand is pressed against the ground between us. I edge mine closer to his until our pinkies touch.

“Your fingers are long.”

He turns his head away from the sky to peer at our fingers. “Maybe yours are really short.”

“I have normal-sized hands.”

“Let’s see.” He slides his hand over mine and my fingers disappear under his.

My heart begins to beat wildly and my mouth goes dry. Body parts start tingling in places I didn’t know could tingle.

“Are you going to kiss me?” I blurt out.

His lips curve into that gorgeous smile of his. “Yeah. I think so. You okay with that?”

I nod.

“It’s been a long time for me,” he admits.

His honesty catches me off guard. “Me, too.”

“Good.” He tucks my hair behind my ear. He moves closer. “Then we can mess up together. Tell me if I do something wrong.”

He palms my cheek, strokes it gently. Ever so slowly, his lips meet mine.





3

Chase rolls onto his side. He reaches for something on the nightstand of the bedroom we wound up in. I hear the hiss of a lighter. The scent of smoke soon fills my nostrils as I lie there, staring at the ceiling. Taking a deep drag, he shifts onto his back and does the same. The crisp cotton sheet covers his lower body. His chest is bare.