Chapter Four #2
He shifts uncomfortably. “Rip and I go back a few years. We were roommates for a while in LA.”
I nod matter-of-factly. “Oh, that’s nice. Then he met his friends?”
“That’s a long story, which started before he met me. Where we’re going, Lyri, it’s not like a typical farm that houses goats. These guys are a little tougher and rougher around the edges.”
Shrugging, I smile. “Can’t be all bad, Doughnut looks well taken care of, and if they look after animals, they must be decent human beings.”
He grins. “Yeah… ninety-nine percent of the time. That other one percent, though…” He leaves it hanging in the air.
I furrow my brows, not understanding what he means, but I continue to drive, still not knowing our final destination.
The drive from Laguna Beach to the San Fernando Valley becomes a rolling storybook of detours, laughter, and carefully chosen pauses—each stop another thread tying us tighter together.
I pull into the Farmer’s Market, making the excuse that Doughnut needs travel snacks just like we do. But in all honesty, I’m just dragging this trip out as long as possible.
We leave the Laguna Farmer’s Market with a bag of snacks in the backseat and Doughnut munching on a sprig of mint like it’s gourmet. I toss Chase a Red Vine while I pop a piece of jerky in my mouth, and we fall into the age-old candy vs. meat debate—sweet vs. savory.
“You know this is a metaphor for us, right now?” he says.
Snorting out a laugh, I chomp on my sugary treat, waggling my brows at him. “You mean, how I’m the jerky because I’m tougher than you?”
He licks sugar off his lips and says, deadpan, “Sure, if you want to think that.”
I swat him with the Red Vine, and he chuckles in his seat as I continue driving.
“You are aware this is bribery, right?” Chase says, his tone all dry sarcasm as I push a carrot through the sliding glass so Doughnut can crunch away. “You’re not rescuing him. You’re buying his loyalty.”
“Loyalty matters,” I retort, snatching a Red Vine for myself and shoving it between my teeth like I’ve got something to prove. “Besides, he loves me. Don’t you, baby?”
Crunch, crunch, crunch.
Doughnut’s ears flick in satisfied delight.
Proof enough.
Chase leans back in his seat, smirking. “He loves whoever feeds him. Just like me.”
I roll my eyes, but my pulse spikes in that annoying way it always does around him.
Hallmark. Too good-looking for his own damn good.
I chew my candy faster, the sugar sparking through my veins like gasoline on a flame.
We coast along the Pacific Coast Highway, windows down, the ocean breeze threading through our hair.
Music pours from the speakers, our shared playlist, an accidental love letter in track form.
Every time a ballad comes on, he turns the volume up and sings with obnoxious passion just to make me laugh.
We make a spur-of-the-moment turn into Huntington Beach lookout, the view stretching into infinity.
The sun is high and hot, painting the water in sharp, glittering patterns.
The sugar’s buzzing warm in my system, and when I see a sandy lookout, I pull the truck over to the side.
“Just gonna stop for a sec, I need some fresh air, and I wanna make sure the kid is okay back there.” As if on cue, Doughnut peeks over the side of the truck bed and lets out a soft bleat.
I stroke his head and whisper, “We’re making memories, aren’t we, little dude? ”
Chase raises his brow at me with a sly knowing smirk.
I really just want to draw this trip out longer.
From Laguna Beach to the San Fernando Valley should only take us a little over an hour.
We should have this trip over and done with before the afternoon is even over.
But I’m not ready to say goodbye to Doughnut yet, and if I am being sincere, maybe I want to drag out spending some more time with Chase too.
The ocean spreads wide, the water glittering in the midday sun like something from a movie, while surfers jog barefoot across the asphalt with boards dripping seawater. Doughnut plants himself at the edge of the truck bed, staring at the waves like he’s unlocking the secrets of life.
“See?” I gesture dramatically, another Red Vine hanging from my fingers. “He’s practically writing poetry right now. ‘Ode to the Pacific.’ ”
Chase leans against the side of the tailgate, arms folded, his hair catching the sun. He tips his head toward the goat. “Pretty sure he’s just thinking, where can I poop with the best view.”
I burst out laughing, probably louder than I should. My laughter spooks a nearby surfer, who trips on his leash and eats pavement. “Shit, so sorry!” I call out as Chase fights back his laugh.
Doughnut doesn’t even blink, utterly unmoved by human suffering.
Chase shakes his head, but I see it, the softness under the smirk, the way his eyes catch on me when I laugh. I don’t let myself linger on it. Instead, I pop another Red Vine, the sugar crackling sharp on my tongue, chasing away the odd ache spreading in my chest.
Exhaling as I stare out at the ocean, I know I can’t delay this all day, but I still have a few tricks up my sleeve. “All right, let’s keep moving.”
Chase tilts his head, then moves for the passenger seat, giving Doughnut a little pat on his head before he enters the truck. “We’ll get you home soon, boy.”
I slide into the driver’s side, smirking.
Soon, but not just yet.
I take off, and we drive for a little while, when Venice slams into us with all its chaotic glory. I jerk the truck to the side, pulling it to an abrupt stop.
Chase’s hands shove out in front of him to stop him from hitting the dashboard. “Jesus, Lyric!” He groans as I hear a thud in the rear.
Grimacing, I hesitantly turn back to look at Doughnut, and he pops his little head up, almost looking like he’s smiling at me, despite me launching him headfirst into the rear paneling.
The second I park, a crowd swarms the truck. People pull out their phones to take pictures, kids squealing, a guy with a man-bun steps up to my window with a smile. “Yo, man, is this some kind of avant-garde performance art?”
I chuckle, hopping out of the truck as Chase slumps back in his seat, trying to ignore the sudden hype around us, but I am lapping this up. “Ahh, not art, just a cool pet.”
“Can I pet him?” a little girl asks, her mother instantly trying to apologize, but I wave her off.
“Of course, he’s super friendly,” I reply, smiling at the mother.
“Thank you,” she whispers, picking up her daughter, who reaches out to pet Doughnut behind his ear. He nuzzles into the little girl, lapping up the attention.
Baa. He coos, making everyone chuckle, except for Mr. Broody Pants, who is still sitting in the truck, trying to ignore all the attention our goat is getting. I lean down to his window, a bright smile on my face. “Oh my God,” I choke out, leaning against the cab. “He’s famous!”
“Famous for standing still,” Chase mutters, typing away on his cell.
Snorting out a laugh, I roll my eyes. “You’re missing out on all the fun. Get out of the car and hang with the cool people.”
He looks up at me incredulously, letting out a huff. “I am the cool people, Starlight. And you are just buying time. Don’t think I don’t know what you’re doing.”
My heart skips a beat, my breath catches in my throat as I stare at him, wondering which part of my avoidance plan he has caught onto.
Is it the part where I am dragging this out for the goat?
Or the part where I am dragging it out for him?
Our eyes lock, and it’s like all the noise and chaos around us fades as we stare at each other.
My pulse races, my palms begin to sweat, when suddenly a kid blows a party horn, jerking me from the moment.
The shock startles me, but it’s the screams that come next that scare me even more.
I spin to see what everyone is screaming for.
Doughnut has fainted from the noise of the party horn, and everyone, including the poor kids, is now terrified.
“He’s dead!” A woman gasps so loud I think she’ll faint too.
“I killed the goat, Mama!” The little girl begins scream-crying.
Panic washes over me as I round the truck and jump into the truck bed, then move in beside Doughnut and pet him with a bright smile on my face.
“He’s fine! I swear he’s fine. He just fainted.
He’ll come back any moment. Loud noises scare him and cause him to pass out. I promise, honey, you didn’t kill him.”
“You p-promise?” the little girl asks through her sobs.
I glare at Chase through the rear window, and he huffs, finally hopping out.
He straightens out his suit and nods. “She’s right, little lady.
The goat will be fine. He has a habit of passing out and scaring people.
He’s the worst guard animal in history,” Chase mutters darkly, though his lips twitch like he’s fighting a laugh.
“This is totally badass,” manbun guy says and starts taking more pictures with his cell, which seems to start a new wave of excitement.
A few seconds later, Doughnut pops back up, steals a bucket of popcorn from the girl who thought she’d killed him, and parades around like nothing’s happened. The crowd is still pale with shock, while I am doubled over against the truck, laughter tearing out of me until my sides ache.
And Chase? He doesn’t join me. He just watches, something in his gaze too soft, too intense, like he’s memorizing the exact shape of me in this moment.
I can’t handle it. So, I cram another Red Vine into my mouth, chewing until the sugar sting makes my teeth ache. Eventually, though, Chase gets antsy, the crowd dies down, and I glance at Chase with doe eyes, wanting us to have a look around at the boardwalk.
“Pleeease, just a little look around, now the chaos is gone? I mean, look at this place!” I ask.
Chase groans, and Doughnut lets out another bleat like he’s totally on board with this plan. “See, Doughnut wants to go for a walk.” I raise my brow at Chase, and he huffs.
“Fuck… fine, let’s go.”