28. Chapter 28
Chapter 28
“ O kay, I feel bad for saying Phoenix is boring,” says Chase.
He should feel bad. Chase and I are back in the Sonoran Desert, this time in the dark of night. Stars everywhere. You can barely see city lights on the horizon. No sounds of the city, only the light wind through the brush can be heard.
“It’s pretty amazing,” I say.
He’s standing close to me, our arms touching. If I just stretched out my fingers, I could reach his. I feel mine flexing, like they want to, like it’s the natural thing to do.
For our last adventure, Chase took me on a night desert tour on fat bikes, which are bicycles with fatter tires that help with balance and give you the ability to go over uneven terrain. We’re wearing helmets with bright headlights so we can see the trail.
It’s a perfect night, temperature-wise, and the cloudless sky is putting on an excellent show, the stars twinkling above us and the moon bright. I think of all the things we’ve done, this might be my favorite.
It’s quiet out here and it feels like we’re separated from the world. There’s just our guide, Jeff, and two other people here. We take breaks now and then for water and snacks.
We’re on a break right now as Chase and I stand near our bikes, our headlamps off, taking it all in. My mom would have absolutely loved this, and I feel a tinge of sadness that this was something she missed out on, that she never got to do. Still, I can picture her standing near me, her head tilted upward as she enjoys the experience. She’d probably tell me about how big and small this makes her feel. Big because she’s part of something so huge, and small because she’s just one person in this grand universe. It was something she’d told me once when we were standing at the top of Diamond Head in Hawaii, looking over the ocean that went as far as our eyes could see. She was known for her deep thoughts while we adventured. We used to tease her about it.
I might be loving this, but there’s also a weight in my gut. Chase is leaving in less than a week. I want to tell him how I feel before he goes. I don’t know why, but I need him to know. I just do. And unlike how I felt with Dawson, where it was so hard to say anything, the words I want to say to Chase are there, at the tip of my tongue, waiting to come out. I just need a good segue. Some kind of opening. I don’t want to just blurt it out.
The thing with Chase is, I know there’s something there. He didn’t steal a kiss tonight when I gave him a peck on the cheek for good luck, but there have been other signs. I also just feel it. Like there’s something between us, and there’s supposed to be something between us. I’m supposed to know Chase. It doesn’t feel like coincidence to me.
Right now is not the time to say anything, though, as Jeff just told us the break is up and we get back on our bikes and back on the trail, the quiet, dark desert all around.
I’ve been keeping my eye out for critters, but we’ve unfortunately not seen many. There was a jackrabbit, a few scorpions, and one snake off to the side of the path that I got to see the tail end of before it slithered its way back in the sagebrush. We searched out the scorpions. Jeff brought a black light to find them and they looked otherworldly under the purple-blue hue.
The light breeze whips through my hair as we ride. I can hear Chase behind me, his tires moving along the dirt trail in tandem with mine. I feel free in this moment. In this dark, quiet desert.
“That was my favorite adventure,” I declare as we get into Chase’s car after returning our equipment and trying to dust ourselves off from all the trail dirt. I pull the sun visor down on the passenger side and look at myself in the lighted mirror. I try to brush my fingers through my wind-whipped brown hair and then give up and twist it into a low-hanging bun.
“Really?” Chase asks while putting his seat belt on.
“Did you not like it?”
“Loved it,” he says. “I think the Crack was my favorite, though.”
“If it wasn’t for the cold water.”
“I kept you warm,” he says. I feel his head turn to look at me; there’s a flirty tone to his voice and I feel my stomach do a flipflop.
The conversation is light as we travel the hour back to my place, where he’d picked me up earlier today. We talk about all the things he has to do to get ready for his trip, and, surprisingly, he’s yet to do many of them. He’s usually so prepared for things.
“I guess I won’t see much of you next week,” I say, my tone conveying my disappointment.
“What makes you say that?”
“You’ve got to get ready.”
“You can always come over and help,” he says .
“I do want to get my fill of my boyfriend, Oscar, before you leave.”
“Exactly,” he says.
We pull into the parking lot of my apartment, Chase taking a space next to my Jeep. The lot is fairly empty, as most of us living in this complex are single and out doing things on a Saturday night.
He puts the car in park and sits back in his seat. He turns his head toward me and then reaches over and grabs my hand, holding it.
“For our official last adventure before I leave,” he says, “I just wanted to say thanks for coming with me and keeping me company. I appreciate it, more than you know.”
“I’ll be there tomorrow too,” I say. Tomorrow is Chase’s big jump. What all this has led up to.
He has to attend an hour training since he’s going tandem for his first time. But I told him I would come and sit with him while he waited to go up. Sometimes the wait can be long. Then I’ll be on the ground when he lands.
“I’ve had a lot of fun,” I say. “More than I’ve had in a long time.”
“Do you—” he says at the same time I say, “I was thinking—”
He chuckles. “You go.”
This is it. I reach up to grab on to my necklace but then remember I didn’t wear it tonight. “I was thinking that … I could come visit you, in London.”
It’s hard to see Chase’s expression with only the dashboard lights of the car and the streetlamp giving us light. He looks … surprised.
“Yeah,” he says, his voice emphatic. “I’d love that. ”
“I’m going to miss you,” I say.
He squeezes my hand. “I’ll miss you too.”
I take a breath. “I know how we met is strange. But don’t you kind of feel like it was supposed to happen?”
I see the corner of his mouth lift up as he nods his head. “Yeah, I’ve had that same thought.”
“I don’t want you to go to London and forget me.”
His eyes shoot to mine. “I could never. You … you’re …” I will him to keep going with his line of thinking. “We’ll still text, and you can come see me.”
That wasn’t exactly what I was hoping for, but I forge on, ignoring the not-quite-pleasant feeling swarming inside me.
“I just need you to know, before you go, that you’ve become more to me … than just a friend. I … I want you in my life, Chase.”
I keep my eyes on him and watch as his gaze moves from my eyes down to my lips and then to our adjoined hands.
“I know you’re leaving, but I need you to know how I’ve been feeling lately.”
I wait for him to say something, to tell me to continue. He doesn’t, though—he just keeps his focus on our hands. How much more is he going to make me spell this out for him? And if I have to, does that mean he doesn’t feel the same? My stomach does a sinking thing.
Chase’s eyes jerk up to mine and I feel something like hope wash over me. This is it. “Jump with me tomorrow.”
“What?” I say, confused. I try to pull my hand away from his, but he tightens his grip.
He changed the subject. He just did to me what he does when I bring up his mom. An unwelcome feeling starts to swirl in my belly. He doesn’t feel the same .
“Come with me and do the jump tomorrow.” His words have a desperate sound to them. Like he’s pleading.
I shake my head, slowly. “Chase, I … I can’t.”
He lets go of my hand and angles his body so he’s looking forward. “Why?” He wipes a hand down his face.
“Why?” I can’t help my frustrated tone. “You know why.”
“Because you’re scared?”
“Yeah, I’m still scared.” I’m also super pissed right now. I think I’d have rather him just say he didn’t feel the same than change the subject so abruptly.
He turns his body to me again. “I don’t get it. I just watched you do a bunch of adventurous things.” He throws out his hand toward the window. “I know how brave you are, Maggie.”
I roll my lips and close my eyes. “None of that was like jumping out of a plane,” I say. “You’ll see when you go.”
He turns his head back toward the window, toward the lit-up dashboard.
“I’m not going with you tomorrow. I can’t. I’m hoping I have one jump left in me, and I have to use that next Saturday with my family.” I’m getting that feeling—the one where tears aren’t far away. I close my eyes, trying to push it all back.
“You realize how silly that all sounds, right?”
“I’m sorry?” The teary feeling is growing. I’m angry, and disappointed, and sad.
He looks at me. “Do you think … maybe it’s not the jump?”
“What?”
He looks away from me again. “I don’t know … maybe it’s more than that. Maybe you’re avoiding something. Avoiding feelings or something.”
I turn my head to the side, away from him. My mind is absolutely swimming with thoughts right now. “Are you seriously asking me if I’m avoiding feelings?” I turn back to him. “Me?” I point to myself, jabbing a finger into my chest.
“I don’t know.” He lifts a shoulder and lets it fall. “Maybe?” he says.
I can’t help myself. I let out a sardonic laugh. “This is so rich, coming from you.” I reach for my necklace, remembering again that it’s not there. “How could you even ask that? I’ve been a freaking open book to you since the beginning. I don’t hide my feelings … that’s what you do.”
He doesn’t say anything. So I keep going. “I’ve just followed you around for weeks, Chase. Helping you avoid your feelings.”
“That’s not what that was,” he says.
“That’s exactly what that was. And I didn’t say anything because I thought you just needed time or something.”
He’s silent again. I’ve never seen Chase mad. I’m learning that he’s the quiet type when he’s angry. It’s my least favorite kind of anger from people. I’d much rather them be loud and say what they’re feeling. But that’s par for the course with Chase.
“You don’t know what you’re saying,” he finally says, his eyes on the dashboard.
I slap my hands on my thighs. “You’re right. How would I know? It’s not like I’ve recently lost my mom too.”
“I didn’t mean that.”
“And how could I know? You don’t talk about it.”
He doesn’t say anything again. He just sits there.
“You’re just going to sit there? Tell me what you’re feeling right now, Chase. Anything.”
No words. His eyes stay on the dashboard.
I let out a breath, shaking my head. “You know what? I’m—” I stop myself from saying what I want to say. I’m hurt, and I’m angry, and I’ll say something I’ll regret—I know I will. I may already have. Instead, I go for passive aggressive: “Have fun in London, Chase. I wish you all the best.” I open the door and get out of the car.
“Maggie.”
I hear him say my name, but I don’t care. I slam the door shut and I race up the stairs to my apartment, taking two at a time. I use my keys to get in and open the door to find an empty, dark apartment. It’s probably for the best; I don’t know if I want to talk to Hannah right now.
I don’t bother turning on lights. I just go to my bed, where I fall face-first and cry.