Chapter 11
PIPPA
As if drenching the front of my dress and then having to recount humiliating stories from high school at Marlow’s insistence weren’t enough, Chase has to be here, too. Let’s take a rough count of how painfully awkward the last two hours and fifteen minutes have been:
Chase heard me confess my crush on him
We were seated at the same dinner table with our parents
Chase had to rescue me from creepy Benedict—Freddie warned me about him
Now Chase has to experience my sweaty palms while he leads me to the dance floor
Rock. Hide. Now.
But yes, of course, it had to be him because this is me we’re talking about here.
Oh, why, oh why, oh why?!
Never mind. I don’t ask that question anymore. I carry on, and right now that feels an awful lot like being touched by my crush. Er, my former crush. Crush past tense. Crushed.
I feel crushed by the weight of embarrassment.
Forget it. Who am I trying to fool? I’m lit up like a big yellow Christmas tree because I’m dancing with Chase Collins, whom I’ve never been able to forget about, even though I desperately want to.
To be clear, I’d much rather be home with Ted Lasso and some biscuits, and was about to make my escape when I realized I’d forgotten my purse on the dinner table and had to go back into the party.
Could that moment have been more embarrassing?
Probably, but this right now, with the expectant gazes of everyone except Mr. Collins on us as we approach the dance floor wins the prize for awkwardness.
Thankfully, Benedict is nowhere in sight. When he greeted me, my pulse raced toward a red light flashing in warning. Stop. Do not proceed. It still pounds hard, but is given the green light as Chase does a fancy little number of spinning me onto the dance floor and into his arms.
Every move he makes is of precision and intention, like he’s done this a million times before. If only confidence were contagious.
A frightful little, “Oooh,” escapes my lips as he clutches me close. But the music is loud, so likely no one heard me as I careened out of control across the highly polished parquet floor.
Whereas I feel awkward and silly, he moves with a kind of sureness that makes me think I’m in good hands. But sheesh, mine are sweaty as he dramatically dips me back.
I didn’t expect we were going to put on a performance. I have a dreadful feeling that this is just the opening act!
Chase lifts me toward him, arms flexing, as though I’d experienced a full-on Regency-era swoon. As he draws me upright, the momentum of the sudden movement causes my hand to hit my hairline, where one of my rings catches.
So here I am, frozen in a half-swoon pose. Marlow is probably chronicling it online for the Hinnifin Hall alumni group.
Chase’s light blue eyes sparkle as he looks down at me with concern or amusement, I cannot tell. Probably both.
“Just to be clear, I am not swooning.”
However, it’s hard not to notice his strong arm under me, making me feel feather-light and floaty. The same arm that repeatedly bumped into me during dinner. The one that sent delightful shivers through me despite my better sensibilities.
But you know what they say about sense and sensibility.
“Don’t worry, I won’t let you fall,” Chase says.
“Be careful, I almost took down the valet on the way in here, and I collided with a server, which was why my dress was wet.”
“I gotcha, Pippa.”
“Could you unget my ring from my hair? It’s stuck and I can’t move my hand without pulling it.” The last thing I need is for it to rip out, leaving me with a bald patch.
To the guests who’re too polite to do anything but discreetly watch this ordeal, it probably looks like Chase is hoisting me to my feet like a car out of a ditch.
His arm is slung across my low back and his hand is on my waist and he lifts me to standing.
This is totally gushy, but it feels like he’s caressing me to my feet.
What does it feel like to be touched by your crush? Let me count the ways:
The softest silk
A summer breeze
Baby’s breath
A teddy bear
Downy feathers
Okay, I’ll stop now because this list could get long.
We straighten and Chase steps closer to examine the ring and hair snarl.
I inhale his masculine scent. Not going to lie, it’s enough to land me back in a reclined position.
It’s like spring rain soap, man, and something slightly spicy.
I can’t put my finger on it. But I will, purely for candle-making purposes, because given the questions from Abigail’s friends, there’s a market for Cologne de Chase.
“I wore it through the grapevine,” I say, referring to what Phoebe and I named the sterling silver ring with rose-cut diamonds and mil-graining in a vintage style.
“Do you mean you heard it through the grapevine?” Chase asks, referring to the famous song.
“Oh, that’s what I call the ring. It’s grapevine-inspired. Mum got it for me when she and Dad took a trip to Tuscany for their wedding anniversary one year. Phoebe has one that we call, um...” I realize too late that I can’t say it because of what it’ll sound like coming out of my mouth.
Chase inclines his head in question.
“It’s, um, called—”
“Did you forget?” He rattles off some song titles from around the same era as the classic sung by Marvin Gaye.
“No. None of those. It was, um, from the seventies. An Olivia Newton-John song called, um, ‘HopelesslyDevotedtoYou.’” I smoosh the words together.
“Hopelessly Devoted to You?” Chase’s lips quirk as he continues working on getting my hand loose.
The yellow Christmas tree turns hopelessly red. “Mmhmm. Because the ring was olive-inspired. Also, a popular Tuscan product. So, Olivia Newton-John.”
“Yeah, I get it. Good tunes. Thanks to our grandmother, my sister loves those old love songs. She’s a total romantic.”
I let out a long breath. “Me too. I mean about the songs. They’re great.”
“How about Elvis? Are you a fan?”
Without thinking, I string together the chorus of several songs, including “All Shook Up,” “Teddy Bear,” “Jailhouse Rock,” and “Love Me Tender.” And that’s my cue to stop talking, er, singing. Seems I forgot my filter today.
Chase’s lips part and then he says, “Wow. So I take it you are a fan. He was my grandfather’s favorite. In fact, they met a few times, even went skeet shooting together.”
I sigh. “Elvis’s voice. When I was younger, I’d often fall asleep listening to it.”
“Almost got it free, Pippa,” Chase says, all smooth, like I didn’t just confirm that I’m the Empress of Awkward.
But that reminds me that he inhabits Jerky Jerk Land. “Don’t you mean Pizza?” I retort because earlier he’d definitely called me pizza.
“Yeah. No. Never mind that. I’m sorry. I misspoke.” His gaze lowers and meets mine.
“Don’t try to eye-smolder with me so I let you off easily.”
“Eye smolder?”
“Yeah, there’s the eye smolder, lips smolder, and then just a smolder, which is the full show.” I do sparkle fingers.
He chuckles and reaches for my hair. I’m afraid he’s going to ruffle my hair again in that she’s my best friend’s annoying sister kind of way and start to duck. I’m not fast enough, and instead, he brushes my bangs out of my eyes.
“I’m not a kid anymore,” I say before I can stop myself.
His lips ripple with amusement. “I am well aware.”
I take a subtle but sharp intake of breath as though coming out of a fog and seeing my surroundings for the first time.
How’d we end up here?
So close?
His hand on mine?
We’re also on the edge of the dance floor, having been sidelined by my ring mishap. Perhaps this will allow me to make a graceful and polite exit.
Ted Lasso, couch, biscuits, don’t worry, I’m coming for you!
“All better.” Gently pinching the ring between his fingers, Chase slides it back onto mine.
Time slows as if this were some kind of ceremonial ritual—ahem, you know the one—but before I can take in the scenery, my mother’s voice floats to me from nearby. “Go on, dance.”
Oh dear. Of course, Lady Libby the Love Liaison has to be coaching from the fifty-yard line. I feel like telling her she can go home. Nothing to see here. The ball is hardly in play.
And yes, I guess I do know a thing or two about football, having watched a couple of games. Okay, a few. Many. Most of them. But only during Chase’s first year on the team. The sports channel came with our cable service and Freddie wanted to see his best friend in action. It couldn’t be helped.
A new song begins, signaling the perfect segue to dance.
There’s no getting out of this. Chase’s hand presses against my side while the other grips my palm.
I break out into a full-body blaze. My heart races even though we’re not yet moving.
My body has not forgotten the giddy discombobulation it’s always experienced whenever I’m around him.
That’s why I was especially careful at dinner, trying to keep my distance.
But this is off the charts. I hear the tsunami warning system blaring in the background.
Oops. False alarm. That’s just my heart pounding in my chest.
How do people do stuff like this regularly without self-destructing?
And to add insult to injury, it was only recently that I thought I’d clawed my way out of heartbreak—people say teenagers are resilient, and they are, but the sponge scene in the dining hall ruined me for the last decade.
That said, Chase’s proximity is not helping keep my crush in the rubble of ancient history. I risk reverting to being a smitten teenager and then being tricked by cake...and Chase.
Oh, I’m onto you, buddy!
The way his eyes hold mine and his lips lift at the corners as he sweeps us onto the dance floor suggest he knows that I am still very much under his spell. His gears turn as he calculates how he’s going to embarrass me this time.
But as his eye smolder drops into a lip smolder, I can’t help but sense something sizzling between us like the start of a chemical reaction.