Chapter 24
PIPPA
After watching Chase being so sweet with Parker and Paige, the little heart fluffies bypass my chest and fill my head.
The girls beg for one more turn on the teacups, but before we can grant their wish, a faint drizzle turns into a steady rain.
We rush toward the exit and I lead us to Gemma and Amos’s place.
My best friend looks like she appreciated the break and took a bath. One runs in the background for the kids. We say goodnight. When Chase heads for the door, Gemma mouths, You owe me a story. She waggles her eyebrows.
I can’t hold back my grin, so I don’t try.
Back outside, the rain has let up, but we’re already wet, so we make our way back toward Blancbourg...or my place, it’s closer, but I’m not sure where to stop.
Where to draw the line.
How to end this evening.
“I wanted to go on the Ferris Wheel.” I pout.
“Rain check?” Chase asks.
I’ll take a rain check on The Moment, the almost-kiss. I bubble and fizz inside just thinking about it.
“This was fun,” Chase says.
I keep a wary eye out for Marlow in case she tries to rain on my parade, er, time with Chase. Where’d she come from anyway? Why is she in Concordia? “About that...” There is something I have to know. “You didn’t buy the breadsticks for Marlow, did you?”
“No,” Chase says forcefully. “She surprised me in line—” He waves his hand dismissively.
“Since moon-gate and then leaving the States, she seems to keep showing up wherever I am. Maybe she got ahold of my schedule. I’ll have to check with my assistant.
I’ve had some intense fans, but I don’t think she’s one of them.
It’s probably a coincidence. Let’s forget about Mean-Marlow. ”
A nervous laugh escapes. “Not easy to do when it seems she has it in for me.”
“She’s just jealous.”
We stop on the corner that would take me to my apartment. “Jealous of—?” I tilt my head, waiting for Chase to finish.
“Your hair, for one.” A note of sincerity replaces the flirtation in his tone.
“My hair is plain brown.”
He smooths a damp lock from my face. “In this light, I see streaks of starlight. During the day, sunshine.”
I nearly stumble on the cobblestones at the poetry in his words and the depth of meaning in his eyes. Once more, Chase is here to catch me. His arms loop around my back and he pulls me close.
“She also is probably jealous of your eyes.” His gaze doesn’t waver.
“Again, plain brown.”
“Beautiful brown.”
The heart fluffies bounce off each other like the bumper car ride earlier.
“And maybe she’s jealous of the way you see the world.”
I’ve never found it easy to take compliments. I usually play them off or counter by telling the person something I appreciate about them. But for once, I let Chase’s words settle over me like a blanket, like a hug.
His arms tighten around me slightly, snugging me closer. This is the exact position I’d dreamed of being in with Chase when I was in high school.
After a long exhale that I’ve been holding in some pocket of my body for over a decade, the tension in me relaxes and it’s like all that weird luck goes with it.
When I blink open my eyes, Chase’s are still there, sparkling blue, gazing intently at me. I could lean in a fraction. He’d do the same. Then I’d tilt my head and he’d lower his. It wouldn’t take much for our lips to come together.
We could kiss right now. It would be so easy. So good.
Instead, I catch the glowing light of Blancbourg in the distance, reminding me that I’m his coach. I already bent the rules tonight by going off-site instead of dining at the school.
“We should head back.”
Chase drops his arm and clears his throat as if coming out from under a spell. “Oh, right. Yeah. Forgot about that.” He glances over his shoulder.
When he turns back to me, his eyes are blue flame. His lips bunch together with a smolder. I wonder if he used to practice this look in the mirror because it undoes me. My cheeks blaze.
“I’m guessing it wouldn’t be appropriate to kiss you, considering our situation.”
The rest of my body goes up in fire. “Probably not,” I manage to say.
“Out of sight, out of mind,” he adds as if testing the boundary one more time.
“My place is down that way. Can I trust you to get back to Blancbourg without getting into trouble?”
He wears an amused grin. “Trust me? Yes. Trouble? I can’t make any promises.”
“Ha ha. But seriously, it’s getting late and I should probably make the safe and smart choice to—” I thumb toward my street.
“Safe and smart? Is the opposite of that dangerous and dumb?”
I give him a look of apology. “I wouldn’t want my boss—” I can’t quite complete my sentences because, yes, right now I want to be so dangerous. So dumb. I’m dumb for Chase and being around him is majorly dangerous.
“You can’t jeopardize your job. I get it.” His exhale is ragged. “At least, let me walk you home. I insist, and not only because my gentlemanly behaviors are being evaluated.”
It takes less than two minutes to reach the flat on Golden Strasse. Silence follows us along the damp street and lingers as we say an awkward goodbye. It’s like neither one of us wants tonight to end, but there’s the etiquette student and teacher situation.
Chase leans forward, moving toward my cheek for a chaste kiss, much like I gave him the other day. As if fighting with himself, he shifts an inch and his lips land closer to my mouth. We both go still, calling upon every thread of willpower we possess.
Finally, I find my voice and say, “Thank you for tonight. I had a nice time.” I can’t risk meeting Chase’s eyes, so I rush up to my flat.
Once upstairs, I look out the street-facing window, hands in pockets, he remains where I left him for a long beat. His inner battle must rage on as he deliberates whether to come up or head back to the manor. At last, he strides down Golden Strasse and I watch until he turns the corner.
I dissolve into a cloud of candy floss, cotton candy, fairy sugar, or whatever it’s called and flop onto the loveseat.
Not only did I learn Chase had meant to ask me to the prom—blowing everything I’d believed about the sponge cake senior year, and each and every embarrassing moment before and after it to smithereens—we both also stood up to Marlow.
Then there was The Moment. Not a moment. It was a capital T, The Moment. It was an intense, sparkling eye contact moment with a suggestive smile, a slight lean forward, and an incline of the head at just the right angle.
We would’ve kissed had there not been a bloom of candy floss between us and two little kids begging for our attention. I had a vision of the future and I liked it. No, I loved it.
I’m still fizzing inside in the best of ways.
Something shifted tonight. It radiated between us, a spinning, swirling, surge of something.
I pace the short track of hardwood floor in front of the three big windows in my flat that open to the village and mountains beyond.
I bubble with energy, recalling how I felt when I learned the sponge cake was a misunderstanding.
When I bravely told Chase that I’d been distracted by him and when Marlow tried to humiliate me all over again with the reminder of the saucident and the sonnet email.
Either Chase didn’t remember the incidents or they didn’t consume him the way they did me.
However, he hardly held back when it came to Marlow being a big meanie.
Other, more powerful, and less savory words would better describe her behavior, but I’m too polite to even think of them. I hope that’s the last I’ll see of her.
Does she work in Concordia? Is she visiting? Never mind. I don’t know and don’t care. I won’t let that unfortunate encounter put a damper on my memory of the evening.
I change into pajamas and flip on a Ted Lasso rerun to refresh my memory before the next season, but I can’t sit still, so I call Phoebe.
“I miss you, Phoebes.”
“I miss you too, Pipps.”
“I miss us staying up late chatting,” I try to sound normal, casual, but I’m effervescing.
“What’s up? Don’t tell me a rubbish truck dumped its trash all over you. No, wait. A public bus splashed you with a puddle. Oh, hold on. I know. You stepped in dog poo and didn’t realize until you walked all over a carpet in a home furnishings store.”
“Not funny. Those things have all already happened, on the same day, I might add.”
“Then that only means one thing. Lady Libby the Love Liaison is up to her old tricks. Bad blind date? Fish breath? Don’t tell me she’s trying to hook you up with another hog farmer. What did he call himself? The Hog Father?”
I chuckle then press my hand against my chest, feeling the steady thrum of my heartbeat, but also the excited wave that rushes in and out on my breath with a whoosh of excitement that is undeniable.
“I have a really bad case of the heart fluffies, but I’m afraid.” Admitting this brings relief like when a case of hiccups finally stops.
“Why? Is he hideous? An ogre? You know, they say attraction is in the eye of the beholder,” Phoebe says sagely. “The last time you had heart fluffies was in high school. Who is this guy? I want the details. I want to meet him.”
I clear my throat. “Do you remember Freddie’s best friend senior year?”
“No one other than Chase Collins is coming to mind.”
“Yep. The Crush.”
“And sponge cake Chase. The dog that embarrassed my sister. The jerk who sent you from the dining hall red-faced and mortified. I most certainly remember him.”
“And the architectural design for the guy of my dreams.”
“You found a replacement for the GOMD?” Excited relief fills her voice.
“Not a replacement, per se.” I explain everything from him being at Blancbourg to the failed promposal to our evening at the fair.
The line is quiet for a moment.
“Are you there, Phoebe?”
“Yes.” Her voice is small. “So, we’re talking about the football player for the Boston Bruisers?
I think he was the spokesman for an athlete health program for a brief time.
Came from the legendary Collins football family.
Cap Collins was his grandfather, he forced his son, Rhett, into football.
He hated it. Then, when he had his own family, he sent his son to high school in England to keep him from the game.
Billionaire and the subject of the recent moon-gate scandal? ”
It almost sounds like she knows his biography. “Yes, and my first crush.” I was going to say love, but to love someone, you have to know them and it seems like my sister knows more about Chase than I do.
“Well, in that case, I hope your feelings for him are strong enough for you to forgive me,” Phoebe says in a quick burst.
“Why? What did you do?”
Again, silence.
“Tell me, Phoebe.”
“I came across some info on a certain football player a couple of months ago. I recognized him instantly.”
“And you didn’t tell me?”
“Didn’t want to scratch at that wound. To be honest, it was kind of boring until—”
“Until you got to the part about him being a billionaire,” I fill in for my sister, having belatedly picked up on that tidbit of information.
“Well, that’s not strictly true. His grandfather left him a sizeable sum but only on one condition.”
“And that is?”
“He has to get married.”
The air sweeps from my lungs. Is this why our mothers are so intent on playing matchmaker?
Mum has been persistent beyond belief. Is this what the arranged marriage is all about?
Are my parents going to get a cut of his inheritance if Chase and I say I do?
Suspicions and doubts explode in my mind.
The heart fuzzies fizzle and I feel cold inside and hot all over at the same time.
Phoebe says, “I know what you’re thinking. Don’t.”
The clouds I had been floating on deflate onto the sofa along with my lifeless body. Forget crushing my crush. I’m crushed. “I’ll never find the one.”
“You will,” Phoebe says. “Have faith.”
“Knowing this, how will I get through the next month with Chase?” I ask.
“Is he awful?”
“No. Yes.”
“Yes? No? Which is it?”
“If this is true, he must know that’s why our parents are putting on the pressure for us to get married.” I chew my fingernail, a habit I’d given up years before.
“Finger, out of your mouth,” Phoebe scolds.
“How’d you know?” I ask guiltily.
“I know you well. And our parents, too. It’s highly unlikely that Mum and Dad are getting a percentage of Chase’s inheritance if you get married. From the story you just told, it sounds like he genuinely likes you.”
“For the remainder of the month, I have to give him life coaching, but he already has manners and knows how to be a gentleman. What am I going to do?” I fret.
“What are his weaknesses?”
“Kryptonite.”
“From what you told me, you’re his kryptonite. What are his strengths?” Phoebe asks.
“You mean aside from his gorgeous muscles, his face, and his everything?” I say, flabbergasted. There is nothing that isn’t perfect about Chase Collins except the fact that he is inclined to marry me for his big billion-dollar payday.
“We need to come up with a strategy. If he only wants to marry for money, anyone will do, right?”
“Yeah, but Mum and Dad are encouraging it.”
“Let me handle them. It’s your job to set him up on a few dates with other women.
If he’s doing it for the money, he’ll marry just about anyone.
Don’t let him back out. Say it’s part of the Blancbourg program or something.
This will cover his etiquette lessons so you’re doing your job, get the parents off your back, and figure out his motives. ”
I recall him mentioning the playbook and how he’s not allowed to date, but that’s the least of my problems. I need to find a Crush Replacement. Stat.
Soaring from the heart, fluffies sending me sky-high, I crash-land with doubt. But that doesn’t help my situation. I need a distraction.
I need a dating coach to find someone besides Chase to have a crush on. After I get off the phone with Phoebe, I search for the website belonging to the dating coach I found when looking over Everly’s shoulder while she scrolled through her phone in the teacher’s lounge.
If I can’t let Chase have me, I’ll have to find someone else who can.