“Okay, well,” she shifted in her seat to face him, “if you love photography, wouldn’t it be more…I don’t know…stable, if you worked for some kind of studio? Like, doing wedding photos or portraits or something?”
“Nah,” Chase said with a dismissive shake of his head. “I can’t stand that formal photography shit. It’s so contrived.” He glanced in the side mirror as he switched lanes. “In a formal shot, people show you what they want you to see, or what they think you want to see. But in a candid?” He smiled. “You’d be surprised how much a person’s expressions or mannerisms reveal about her when she’s not paying attention.”
Chase could feel her eyes on him, and it was a moment before she spoke again.
“Where did you go to school?”
“Cornell.”
“Really?” she asked, bemused. “I didn’t know they had a photography program.”
“I went to school for veterinary science.”
She fell silent and he smiled, knowing he had shocked her with that little disclosure. He glanced over to see the most endearing combination of surprise and confusion on her face.
“How did you get into photography then?”
“I’ve always been into photography. It’s all I ever wanted to do.”
“Then why did you go to school for something else?”
Chase inhaled deeply, licking his lips, and Andie shook her head. “I’m sorry, I’m asking too many questions.”
“No, you’re not,” he said. It was just that he hadn’t spoken about any of this in so long. But he realized then that he actually wanted to talk about it. More specifically, he wanted to talk about it with her.
“I went to school for veterinary science because my dad would have pretty much disowned me if I went for photography.”
“He didn’t approve?” she asked, and Chase laughed.
“That’s putting it mildly.”
“What did he want you to do?”
“He wanted me to be a doctor, like him. Oh wait, excuse me, a surgeon,” he corrected with a roll of his eyes. “God forbid you referred to him as merely a doctor.”
He shrugged, running his hand through his hair. “I wasn’t interested in being a doctor,” he said, his voice losing the sarcastic edge. “So I picked what I thought would be the next best thing. At least in his eyes.”
“And it wasn’t?” Andie asked, and Chase turned his head to look at her. If he had seen sympathy or pity in her eyes, he would have ended the conversation right there. He didn’t want to be pitied. But the only thing he could find behind those expressive eyes was genuine interest.
“No, it wasn’t,” he said, meeting her gaze before turning back to the road. “He used to send me applications to schools with pre-med programs all the time, with little notes saying it wasn’t too late to change my mind, that he could pull some strings and get me in. I made the dean’s list almost every semester I was there, and you know what he’d say? ‘This will look great on your medical school applications,’” he mimicked, deepening his voice. “Never once did he acknowledge it as its own accomplishment. He would tell people that his son was at Cornell. I guess that was prestigious enough for him, but if they asked what my major was, he’d tell them it was undeclared while I was choosing a med school.” He laughed, shaking his head.
Chase took a deep breath, pulling himself out of the memory. “After a while, I started to think about transferring. I figured med school couldn’t be as bad as being a constant disappointment. But then he left,” he said with an indifferent shrug.
“He left?”
“I’m sorry, I should have been more specific. He moved in with the nurse he’d been screwing behind my mother’s back for three years.”
Andie’s eyes went wide as her mouth dropped a little.
“You know what the messed up thing was, though? For a while after, I kept thinking I should have just gone to med school. That if I had just sucked it up and did what he wanted me to do, he would have been happy, and then he would have stayed.” He looked over at Andie. “But I know that’s not true. He was who he was. Nothing I did was ever gonna be good enough for him.”
Andie sat there with her eyes downcast, fiddling with her fingers. “How old were you?” she asked.
“Nineteen. I was right about to start my third year at Cornell. I almost didn’t go back. I mean shit, the only reason I started that stupid degree was for him. But the more I thought about it, the more I realized I worked my ass off there. And I wasn’t gonna let him take that from me. So I finished my degree. That being said, if your dog or ferret or hamster ever gets the flu, you know who to call.”
Andie laughed softly before her expression straightened again. “Do you still talk to him?”
He shook his head. “He calls sometimes. I’m not sure if it’s because his conscience gets the better of him every so often or because he’s bored and just looking to push someone around, but either way, I’m not interested.”
It was silent for a moment before Andie said, “It sounds like you guys were better off without him.”
“I definitely was, that’s for sure. But my mom?” He shook his head. “She was devastated. I never understood why she loved that prick, but she was lost without him. Most of my time was spent taking care of her after that. Just trying to put her back together.”
“Well, I’m glad she had you,” Andie said with such conviction that Chase felt a slight pang in his chest. He smiled gently at her.
“Are you and your mom still close?” she asked.
“She died four years ago.”
He heard the soft intake of breath before she whispered, “Chase. I’m so sorry.”
The ache in his chest intensified. And not because he was talking about his asshole father, or because he was thinking about his mother. It was because of the way she said those words. It was an automatic response for someone to say they were sorry when a loved one died. It was rote. Robotic, even. A formality.
But the sincerity and the compassion she had injected into those four words washed over him, making him feel entirely vulnerable, yet at the same time, completely at peace.
“You know that thing you said yesterday, about everything happening for a reason?” Chase took a deep breath before he looked over at her. “I never believed that before, but I hope you’re right. I hope it will all make sense to me one day.”
She smiled sadly, and when he noticed her eyes were glassy, he cleared his throat, looking away from her. Chase tightened his hand on the wheel, fighting the overwhelming urge he had to reach over to her.
“There’s a positive to all this, though,” he said, wanting to convince her. “I mean, I spent the first part of my life trying to please my father, and the second part of it living for my mother. And now I don’t live for anyone but myself.”
Andie said nothing, and after a minute, Chase turned to her. “I know that sounds selfish and insensitive, but Dr. Seuss says it’s okay.”
“What?” she asked with a tiny laugh.
“Come on, English major, you’ve never read Dr. Seuss? ‘Be who you are, and say what you feel, because those who mind don’t matter, and those who matter don’t mind.’” He turned his eyes back to the road. “I do what I want to do. I refuse to hold back what I’m thinking or what I’m feeling anymore. And if someone doesn’t like it, then they don’t need to be in my life. If that makes me an asshole, then so be it. I don’t want to spend any more time trying to make other people happy. Life is much more enjoyable when you’re surrounded by people who just accept you for you.”
The car grew silent, but he could see her still fiddling with her fingers out of the corner of his eye. “You don’t agree with me,” he finally said.
“No, I do…I just…” She trailed off.
“Are you really going to try and dispute a Seussian point? Isn’t that sacrilegious?”
Andie laughed. “No, I just…I just think that sometimes, it’s better to do what you know is right.”
; “Even if that means living according to someone else’s standards? If it means denying yourself happiness?” he asked. “You think that’s better?”
“Well, maybe not better, but it’s…smarter sometimes? Or safer?” She shook her head quickly. “I don’t know. I don’t know what I’m saying.”
There it was again, that bizarre reference to being safe.
Chase glanced over at her before he said, “Are you telling me you’ve never done something just for you? For no other reason besides the fact that it was what you wanted? Screw consequences?”
“Yeah, when I went snooping around Justin’s wine cellar. Look how that turned out.”
Chase laughed before he said, “I’m serious, though. You’ve never tossed aside everyone else’s opinions and just went for something you wanted?”
She shrugged, saying nothing as she looked away from him.
He watched her for a moment before he turned his eyes back to the road. He understood what she was trying to say. Christ, hadn’t he told her only yesterday that he’d never known anyone who played by the rules as much as she did? Of course the idea of blowing off other people’s expectations and conventions sounded foreign to her.
But she hadn’t balked at his notion. She hadn’t even mocked it. She just seemed completely terrified by it.
They fell back into an easy silence as he switched lanes. There was the strangest feeling in his chest. He felt…buoyant. There was no other word for it. It felt surprisingly good to talk about that part of his life again. And he realized the reason for that was because he was discussing it with someone who genuinely gave a shit.
He looked over at her; she was completely lost in her thoughts, and Chase noticed the crease between her brows, the one that appeared whenever she was fighting a frown.
He didn’t want her to be frowning. He wanted her to feel the way he felt.
He opened his mouth to speak just as they rounded a bend in the road, and a wide lake appeared on the left. His eyes flashed to the broad expanse of water, and the idea dawned on him almost immediately.
Without even using his blinker, he abruptly pulled the car onto the shoulder.
Andie sat up straight in her seat. “What’s wrong? What happened?”
He unbuckled his belt and got out of the car, walking around to her side. “Come on,” he said as he opened her door.
“What happened? What are we doing?” she asked, confused.
He held one finger up to his lips and then crooked it at her, beckoning her out of the car. She glanced at it and then back up at him, conceding with a small huff as she unbuckled her belt. As soon as she was out of the car, he gripped her wrist, crossing the street and taking her with him.
“Chase,” she said.
“Shh,” he said through a laugh, holding his finger to his lips again as he walked her across the expansive front lawn of the house they had stopped in front of, the only house visible on the long stretch of road they were on. He kept his hand wrapped around her wrist, pulling her around the side of the little house and through the backyard.
“I’m going to take a shot in the dark and assume you don’t know these people?” Andie whispered, tripping over her feet in the effort to follow him as she glanced around nervously.
He smiled as he continued to lead her across the yard; the house itself was tiny and quaint, but the property was vast and sprawling, the plush grassy land ending against the shoreline of the wide lake behind it. There was a small dock that extended several feet into the water, and Chase walked them a few steps on to it.
He stopped then, turning to look at her as she took everything in: the deep blue water that rippled slightly in the breeze, the two tiny shapes all the way on the other side that looked like docks belonging to the houses on the opposite shore, the contrasting greens of the grass and the trees, the brilliant blue sky, speckled with feathery wisps of white clouds, the kind of sky that usually only existed in paintings. He should have been looking for his camera.
But all he could look at was her.
She turned toward him in bewilderment. “Okay, so…am I supposed to be having some sort of Bob Ross epiphany or something?”
The corner of his mouth lifted in a smile. “Not quite,” he said as he reached out and took her hand, intertwining their fingers. She jolted, her posture immediately growing rigid, but before she could fully react, he took off in a run, giving her no choice but to follow.
“Chase!” she screeched right before he ran off the edge of the dock, and the next sound was the substantial splash as they were completely submerged under the cool water.
Their hands immediately broke apart as they both began to swim to the surface, and Chase came up first, a rejuvenated laugh escaping his throat. A second later, Andie broke the surface, gasping loudly as she frantically swiped the water off her face. Her eyes were darting around wildly, her breath coming in short, startled huffs.
Chase was a few feet away from her, treading the water and grinning from ear to ear. She finally made eye contact with him, her expression incredulous. “What the hell was that?” she shrieked.
“That,” he said, flicking his fingers in the water and showering her with droplets, “is called doing something just because you feel like it and not giving a rat’s ass what anyone else thinks.” He smiled at her. “Fun, huh?”
She stared at him for what seemed like forever, saying nothing, until finally she pressed her lips together, stifling the giggle that quickly ballooned into irrepressible, hysterical laughter.
He laughed then, which only made her laugh harder, and in that moment, Chase was overcome with the completely inapt desire to swim over and wrap his arms around her.
But instead, he stayed where he was, treading water and listening to the sounds of their splashes combining with her unrestrained laughter like the most beautiful symphony.
CHAPTER SEVEN
After they stopped at a gas station to change into some dry clothes, Andie had good-naturedly revoked Chase’s driving privileges on the grounds that he could no longer be trusted. He agreed, under the condition that if he were to be stuck in the passenger seat again, he should at least get to pick the music they listened to. They had shaken on it before Chase tossed her the keys with an amused expression.
Now, Andie sat in the driver’s seat again; the space between them was quiet, an easy comfortable silence as Chase scrolled through her iPod looking for something to listen to. After a few minutes, he finally hit the button before snapping it into the dock and leaning back in his seat.
The opening chords to Counting Crow’s “Colorblind” filled the car, and Andie rested her head back against the seat and fought the urge to close her eyes. It was one of her favorite songs, just as much for the haunting melody as for the profound lyrics. The chords seemed to vibrate through her, warming her from the inside out, and as they drove down the desolate stretch of highway, she couldn’t remember the last time she felt so contented.
She lazily turned her head to the side, looking at Chase; his head was back against the seat and his eyes were closed. The T-shirt he had changed into clung to his still-damp skin. There was the faintest hint of a five o’clock shadow defining his jawline, and his hair flipped away from his forehead and ears in wet curls, looking much darker than it was. Just before she turned her eyes back to the road, she noticed his hand on his thigh, his fingers moving to the notes as if he were playing some unseen piano.
“Do you play?” she asked.
“Mm-hm,” he hummed softly, his eyes still closed.
“Can you play this?”
He nodded. “It’s pretty simple,” he said. “The chords, I mean. Not the song. The song itself, the lyrics are just…” He trailed off, his voice lazy.
“Yeah, I know,” Andie said gently. They fell into silence again, listening to the song, until Andie sighed softly. “I’ve always wanted to play.”
Chase lifted his head to look at her. “You don’t play? You have a piano.”
“I know,” she said, shrugging guiltily, “I just thought it looked nice in the room.”
He smiled at that before resting his head back on the seat. “I’ll teach you to play this.”
“You will?” Andie asked, unable to keep the surprise out of her voice.
“Mm-hm. If you want,” he said softly, closing his eyes again.
She turned her eyes back to the road as the oddest feeling washed over her. For a second, she almost felt disoriented. How could only twenty-four hours have passed since they started this trip? To her, it felt like so much longer than that. And not in the way that a task seems to take forever when it’s tedious or mundane, but more in the way that she felt like the person sitting next to her was someone completely different from the one who climbed into her passenger seat yesterday morning. This person wasn’t callous, he wasn’t crude, he wasn’t antagonistic; he was smart, and funny, and sweet.
At that moment the disorientation gave way to a different, but much stronger feeling.
Shame.
Because she realized then that Chase had always been those things. She had just chosen not to see it. She had made the decision to pigeonhole him according to her own first impression of him, knowing all too well how incredibly deceiving first impressions could be.
Andie glanced over at him again. She had no idea if Chase knew what she had thought of him a day ago, but it didn’t matter. She felt terrible about it, whether he was aware or not.
But she knew how she could make it up to him.
Andie smiled to herself as the plan began taking shape in her mind. She had looked up some information on her phone when Chase was changing into dry clothes; she’d been looking at the map and saw the name of the place, remembering that Chase had mentioned it to her the day before, and her curiosity had gotten the better of her.
A little while later, Andie put on her blinker and took the exit off the highway, and Chase looked over at her.
“Again? You seriously have the bladder of an incontinent grandmother.”
“I don’t have to go to the bathroom,” she laughed.
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