Long After (Sometimes Never) (4 page)

6

Boyfriend

Chase

I’ve never really enjoyed school. I don’t like getting up early. I don’t like being forced to sit through boring lectures. I despise homework. Once I go home, I shouldn’t be expected to do more work.

But I love tests.

I know it’s weird, but I’m good at them. In high school, I didn’t do homework because we’ve already established homework is bullshit. But I’d show up to class, listen to the lecture, and take the tests. That’s how I passed with a B average.

College isn’t like that. One paper can be worth half your grade, so just passing the tests can’t save me. And that…
sucks
.

I don’t even know what the hell I’m doing in college. I only enrolled because if I didn’t, I would’ve been left behind. In retrospect, I should’ve mad
e friends with people less goal-oriented. Then I could be sitting on my parents’ couch, playing my bass—not trying to write a paper about dead people.

Too damn late now.

I backspace the last two paragraphs I wrote as I glare at the screen. In my next life, I better be an actor or a mafia kingpin because I’m not doing this college shit twice.

“Chase,” Pauly yells, pulling the headphones away from my ear. “That girl is here again.” He gestures toward the door and I follow his movement. Annie’s standing just outside the open door
. She’s nibbling on her lip, which kills me a little bit. She does shit like that all the time, absentmindedly chewing her lips or licking them in this way that draws my attention. I can’t remember when I started actually looking at her like a girl, but it’s been torturous for the past few years.

I look down at where my headphones are connected to her iPod resting on my bed.
Annie smirks and I know she just realized. Then I smirk because it’s not what she thinks. In fact, she’s about to be extremely pissed off when she discovers what I did. That’s why I did it.

I push the headphones back around my neck and unplug the chord. “You’ve got some good music on here,” I say as I switch it off and hold it out.

Annie steps inside, gazing around as she walks hesitantly in my direction. “I thought my music was crap?”

I smile at her, not replying.

She sighs. “What did you do?”

“Let’s just say I’m schooling you.”

Her head tips to the side as one blonde brow arches in disbelief. “
You’re
schooling
me
?”

“Hey,” I say defensively. “In this situation, I’m more educated. Clearly.”

She snatches the device from my hand and switches it back on, scrolling through the music I replaced her old tunes with.

“You erased all my music.” She drops her hand to her side and looks at me with round eyes.
“Why would you do that? What is wrong with you?”

I blow out a long breath and stretch my legs out. “I had to do it. For mankind. That shit you call music…it’s…
shit.
”

She shakes her head, c
onfusion furrowing her brow. “Okay, you don’t like it and that’s fine. It was on my iPod because I
do
like it. It wasn’t affecting you in any way. I can’t believe you did that.”

“It was affecting me—nega
tively—when you played it where I could hear.”

She’s glaring at me, but the corner of her mouth is twitching, fighting back a smile. “There’s something very wrong with you.”

I grin. “Don’t worry, I fixed the problem.” I tap her hand. “I put some of my favorites on there—you’re welcome. You only have eight gigs of memory, though, so I couldn’t put everything I wanted on it.” I set my laptop to the side and swing my legs over the bed. “How can you live with only eight gigs?” I stand up and she takes a step back. “Oh,” I continue before she can reply. “Don’t worry. I replaced all your playlists too.”

“What?” Annie’s cheeks ignite with color as she
quickly swipes her thumb over the screen.

I lean in and point. “I really like how you had them named, so I didn’t change that,” I say.
‘“Don’t Let Your Ass Get Fat’, epic. Oh, and there’s my favorite—‘Who’s Your Daddy?’”

She presses her lips together and I grin at her.

“Do you really get it on to The Biebs?”

She closes her eyes, somehow managing to look more embarrassed a
nd I chuckle. That would make the score 19 me—16 Annie.

“I know you may not understand because you can’t get a girl to hook up with you, but it’s not about who is singing the music. It’s about the rhythm and the way your body moves to it.”

She opens her eyes, her gaze landing on me, and I have no reply—which is a first for me. But I have the sudden desire to see the way Annie moves her body to
Boyfriend
. I used to love watching her cheer in high school. I’m not sure there isn’t a hetero male out there that wouldn’t. Images start flying through my mind and I puff up my cheeks, blowing out a big breath.

I still have nothing.

Okay…19 me—17 Annie.

She definitely scored that
point.

~*~

Sometimes, on certain occasions…some might say I tend to lean—
slightly
—toward the sensitive side. I’m not going to deny that I tend to be more open to my emotions than others. Here’s important knowledge about me—if I like you, I like you. I don’t give a shit what other people say. I don’t give a shit if you fuck up because we all fuck up at some point. I have no problem reminding you how or why you messed up, but it’s not a deal breaker for me. If you’re my friend, that’s it. That’s `til the end. I will do anything for you. I will always have your back. And you can count on me for anything, including crazy-ass shit nobody else is willing to do.

What can I say? I’m
loyal.

Has this gotten me into trouble? Hell yeah it has.

Do I regret it? Nope.

Does this make me weak or lesser of a man?

Well, I have a theory about this. I could easily say fuck it and blow off my friends when they need me. Choose to not open doors for women. Ignore calls from my family. Walk past someone struggling with his or her groceries. Take advantage of drunken females. Lie to get out of helping a buddy move his two-ton couch. It would be so simple to do nothing.

But I make the
choice
to help others out. It’s just who I am. I can guarantee I’m more reliable, more dependable, more trustworthy than most guys.

Not to pat my  own back
, but I think I’m a damn good friend to have. And I’d make a pretty good catch, too.

So why the hell am I still single?

No, really. Why am I still single? If you know, you should really help a guy out. I’m not looking to get married. I just want a nice, simple relationship with a girl that’s cool. One that likes music, can make me laugh, and that I get to have sex with on the regular.

It doesn’t take much to make me happy.

I pull my swim trunks out of the dresser drawer and toss them on the bed by my gym bag. Park started working out several days a week and I started going with him. He always bails after an hour, so that’s when I hit the pool.

There’s a bad side to being the nice guy. Sometimes even nice guys get pissed. Occasionally, I’m ready to scream “fuck the world.” But nobody understands when the nice guy loses it.

Swimming keeps me straight. It’s my release. My meditation. My stress reliever. I don’t admit this often, but the smell of chlorine takes me directly to my happy place.

And,
man, our school pool is freaking spectacular. I could live in it if they let me. I’m almost positive I was a fish or a merman in my past life.

I would be badass as King Triton.

It takes a lot for me to not like a person, but an
ybody who hates water is untrustworthy in my opinion. How can anybody not love feeling weightless? Or how your body can move through water in a way it isn’t capable of on the ground? That’s not normal to me.

I shove my trunks and towel into my bag and pat my pockets. Wallet, cell phone, keys. I’m good. I open my door and pause as I
almost run into Annie.

“Hey,” I say wearily. This is starting to become a habit, her showing up at my door unexpectedly.
She licks her lips as she gazes up at me and my mind flips through several scenarios that involve her mouth and various parts of my body.

Just an FYI, every single time a girl does
anything
with her mouth, a guy will fantasize about it. Talking not excluded—that’s why men have such a hard time paying attention. 

“You need to
put my music back on my iPod.”

Oh. This again. “I’m on my way out. Can’t you do it yourself?” She can’t. I know she can’t, but I love pissing her off. It’s like an addiction at this point.

“You changed all my passwords,” she huffs. The way her voice squeaks at the end makes me smile.

I chuckle as I push past her. “Maybe you should have protected your music better. It took me four tries to figure out the password.
‘Annie rocks.’ Really?” I pause in front of the elevators and push the down button several times. “I find that ironic, by the way.”

She sighs as the doors open. I step inside, knowing she won’t follow. She has a thing about elevators and malfunctions. Something about plunging to a fiery death. Blah, blah, blah.

I grin and wiggle my fingers as the doors begin to close. Her eyes narrow and she hurries inside just in time. My brows raise in surprise.

“Are you that desperate to be near me?” I ask, smiling smugly at her.

“No,” she pants. “I’m that desperate to get my music back.”

“Why?” I
ask seriously. Her music is that lame, pop shit you can listen to on any of the top forty stations.

“I have a routine.” Her hands fist at her sides and I notice a sheen of sweat glossing her forehead. “I need it back. You don’t understand.”

She’s right. I don’t. She could stand here all day and try to explain and I still wouldn’t comprehend how she could possibly miss that shit she calls music. I open my mouth to tell her this, but stop when I see the panic consuming her.

7

Faint

Annie

I hate elevators. I feel dizzy and my stomach is knotting as every possible outcome is running through my head. I watched this time-lapse video once of a man stuck in an elevator for an entire weekend. Trapped.

I’m not claustrophobic, but I don’t like the idea of being imprisoned. Especially with Chase.

Plus, I’ve seen enough movies to know that sometimes, elevators fall.
Crash
.

I can’t breathe.

“I swear to God, Annie, if you puke in here…”

That grabs my attention. I narr
ow my eyes on Chase. “What? What will you do?”

We stop moving and my heart stops beating. The doors slide open and I scurry out as quickly as possible.
My knees feel weak, my legs shaking.

I jump as a hand settles onto my shoulder. “You okay?” Chase asks. His voice is low, soft, and it almost makes me believe he cares a little about my answer.

“Yeah,” I rasp. “I’m fine.”

I look up and meet his eyes. God, I love his eyes. Even though he’s grown out of his awkward, gangly phase, and into this thicker,
sharper, well-built frame, I still think his eyes are his best feature. He could be a male model.

His brows arch over those gorgeous eyes and I realize I’m staring. I step back, causing his hand to drop from my shoulder.
He watches me, his gaze focused on my face for several more seconds. He adjusts his bag and nods. “You sure?”

“I think so,” I say.

His hazel eyes flick over me, from top to bottom, before he cocks his head to the side. “You want to work out with me and Park?”

“What?” I’m so thrown off by the invitation all I can do is repeat my question. “What?”

“I’m meeting Park at the gym.” He pauses as he licks his bottom lip. “If he remembers. Sometimes he’s too hung over and he doesn’t show. Do you want to come along?”

“Why?”

Chase chuckles and shakes his head. He turns and starts walking toward the main doors. “I thought it might help loosen you up, relax you a little. Maybe not.”

“What about my iPod?” I call after him.

I hear him sigh, but he doesn’t turn around or even slow his pace. “It can come along too.”

I press my lips together to keep from smiling. He knows damn well that’s not what I meant. I tap my foot, trying to ma
ke a decision. I have a few hours before I need to be in class, but I work out every other day. He’s throwing off my routine. Again.

Chase slows, glancing over his shoulder at me as his hands rest on the door hand
le. His lips turn up in a smirk as if he’s challenging me.

And I can’t ignore that.

“I need to get my bag,” I say.

He grins and nods his head,
acknowledging me. “I’ll walk with you.”

~*~

“I don’t like working out without my playlist,” I say as I trail behind Chase.

“You have a new playlist,” he replies. “I made sure all the songs are motivational.”

I haven’t listened to it yet, but somehow I imagine what motivates Chase is very different than what motivates me. I shoot him a look, which he ignores.

“Trust me,” he adds.

“Not if my life depended on it.”

He stops and I take several more steps before I realize. I pivot on my heel and look back at him. He’s watching me with narrowed eyes, his arms folded in front of his chest.

“What?” I ask.

“Why don’t you like me?”

“What?” I repeat stupidly. I heard what he said, I just don’t know how to answer it and the honesty of the question has me completely off kilter.

“Everybody likes me except you. And you’ve never liked me. I don’t get it.”

I tip my head to the side as I regard him. “Are you serious?”

He nods slowly. I take a step toward him. I don’t really want to have this conversation here where everyone can hear us. “You’re mean to me every chance you get,” I
say incredulously. “Can we not talk about this right now?” The thing is…I really do like Chase, like deep,
deep
down inside. I just hate how he makes me feel.

“I’m not mean to you.” His eyes are searching my face and I know I must look like I’m dumbfounded or in shock or something.

“Yes, you are. All the time. Sometimes I’m afraid to get anywhere near you because I’m scared of what you’re going to say next to make me feel like shit about myself.”

I watch his dark brows furrow as he continues to stare at me. “You’re
scared
of me?”

I breathe out a dry laugh. “I’m not scared of you. Just what comes out of your mouth.”

He steps closer, his hands twitching at his sides. “I don’t say shit to hurt your feelings,” he says, his voice low. I look down at our shoes and I can’t help noticing how old and dirty his are compared to mine. “I’m just messing around. I thought we were having fun.”

My head pops up so quickly a pain shoots through my neck. I rub it as I glare at him. “Calling me a bitch—all the time—is not fun for me. Hear something often enough and you believe it’s true.”

Chase chuckles and I shake my head. I don’t know why I bother trying to have a real conversation with him.

“You
do realize,” he begins as he takes another step forward, “that you call me an asshole multiple times a day.”

I open my mouth to deny it, but I can’t. It’s true. He grins when I don’t bother to defend my actions.

“Truce?”

My eyes follow his movements as he reaches out one hand and cups it around mine. My stomach tightens and then something flutters inside.

“Truce,” I agree.

As soon as Park shows up, he and Chase hit
the weights, so I decide to do my own thing. Placing my ear buds in, I find Chase’s workout playlist and hop up on the elliptical. The music starts and I can’t help picking up my pace to the quickening beat. I feel my lips form a smile as I work my legs.

Damn. Who knew Chase would know what he was talking about?

The chorus fills my ears and my feet falter for a moment. I look down at the screen, reading the song title. I look over my shoulder, trying to locate Chase. My eyes find him almost immediately. As if he senses me looking at him, his head rises, his gaze falling on me.

I know there’s no way he’s aware of how I feel invisible most of the time and my need to make sure I’m seen. Remembered. But it’s almost like he put this song on just for me. Like it could have been written just for me.

He smiles before turning back to whatever Park is saying to him. I realize my smile has never wavered.

When the song ends, I start it over and let myself get lost.

~*~

Chase tugs an ear bud, causing it to fall onto my chest. “You
wanna swim?”

I try to catch my breath as I slow down to a stop. “Do what?” I pull the other bud out and pause my iPod. I have to look down at the screen on the elliptical to see how long it’s been. I’ve c
ompletely lost track of time.

“Swim,” Chase says. “Do you want
to swim?”

I crinkle my nose. I love to swim. Hate to swim with other people. Hate to wear a swimsuit. He holds out his hand and I just look at it.

“Come on.” He wraps his fingers around my wrist and nods his head. “They have a killer pool. It’s a great cool down.”

“I don’t have a suit.”

“It’s fine,” he insists. “Just go like that. Nobody will say anything to you if you’re with me.”

I glance down at my shorts and school tee shirt. I can’t go like this.

“You look fine,” he says, reading my thoughts.

“No, it’s fine. You go ahead. I’ll just go back to the dorms.”

He rolls his eyes and pulls on my arm. “I want you to come swim with me.”

“You want me to?”

He chuckles as he runs his free hand over his forehead, wiping away sweat. “That’s why I asked.”

“
I’ll come with you, but I’m not swimming like this. I’ll just sit by the pool and talk to you.”

He eyes me for a moment and the
n relents. “Fine. But you have to at least put your feet in.”