“Oh, well…” She debated the wisdom of telling this particular story, but having gone this far… “I was looking out in the hall instead of paying attention. My desk was by the door. And this cute guy passed by—”
“Who?” Chase interrupted.
“Robbie Lips,” Hope said dreamily. “Do you remember Robbie Lips?”
“Senior class president, star quarterback, golden child,” Chase spouted, sounding irritated. “Of course I remember Robbie Lips, who wouldn’t?”
“Well, Mr. Stout caught me looking out into the hall, so he called Robbie Lips in. He said, ‘Robbie, I’d like you to meet Harlequin. Harlequin, this is Robbie. Harlequin here was just wondering if you were free Friday night.’ I was mortified. Robbie nodded, a little stunned I guess, and Mr. Stout said, ‘Great. He’ll pick you up at seven, Harlequin. Now, do you think you can concentrate on algebra?’” She shook her head with a smile, amusement finally able to overtake the humiliation of the past.
“So, did he?”
“Did he what?”
“Pick you up at seven?”
“No.” She chuckled. They had broken out of the trees and now stood on the edge of a large pond. “Wow! I never knew this was here.” There was a long dock sticking out into the water. “Is this your land?” They wandered out to the edge of the dock; the moonlight shimmered across the pond, inviting them.
Ignoring her question, Chase let the same mischievous grin play on his face that he had been wearing all evening. “Wanna go for a swim?” Without waiting for an answer, he pulled his shirt off over his head and laid it on a post. His hand went to his belt buckle.
“Chase!”
“What? You scared?”
As he dropped his shorts and stripped off his underwear, she turned away, her heart racing. Chase ran the rest of the way down the dock and jumped into the water with a wild whoop of freedom. Hope turned back at the last minute and got a glimpse of his naked form right before his feet parted the water, then devoured him like some huge aquatic dragon. The sound of his voice reverberated for a few seconds against the surrounding trees, and then there was a complete silence that seemed strangely out of place after his war cry. Hope heard only the crickets chirping, as if they were waiting with her, watching and waiting for the stillness to be disrupted. After what seemed like an impossibly long amount of time, Chase broke the surface, sputtering and laughing without restraint at his own daring.
“Man!” he screamed in delight. “This water feels great! Come on in, Hope.”
“What? Are you kidding?”
“Come on. I’ll turn around. I promise. You’ve got to try this.”
She bit her lip. “Are you crazy?”
“Yes. The question is,” he commented, treading water and raising an eyebrow in that sexy way he had, “are you?”
She smiled at him, feeling suddenly adventurous. His recklessness was contagious. “All right.” She was shocked to hear her response as it cut through the night. Had she really just said that? Before her brain had any time to think, she kicked off her sandals. “Turn around,” she demanded, staring at him.
He acquiesced without a word, seeming to hold his breath.
Hope untied her top and laid it on Chase’s. The air kissed her warm skin, and she shivered despite the heat.
Chase heard a splash and turned around quickly. He could see the ripples where the water had swallowed her up, but everything was hushed. He searched the top of the pond for a clue as to her location, until, without warning, she popped up in front of him, laughing and splashing. He grabbed her wrists instinctively. “Hey, cut it out,” he snorted.
With his touch, she became motionless, suddenly realizing the only thing separating them now was an insubstantial liquid shield. He gazed at her, his eyes straying to her lips. Her eyes, too, were drawn to his lips with an equal desire to feel them pressed against her own.
He pulled her infinitesimally closer. “Hope…” His voice sounded raspy.
Hope remembered the lightning bolt of panic she’d felt then, quick, hot, unexpected. She was naked, with this boy she had loved for so long, alone in the woods. “I…I…” All she wanted to do was kiss him, be his, but she couldn’t, not this way. She forced the words out. “This is wrong.”
Hope couldn’t look into his confused face. She broke free and swam to the dock, each stroke feeling as if it were ripping through her heart. Unaware of her nudity now, only thinking of the hurt she’d seen in Chase’s eyes, she climbed up the ladder and out of the water. She hurriedly scooped up her clothes and ran off into the trees. Once inside the protection of the trees, she scrambled into her clothes, though sobbing.
It was that feeling Hope felt now. Confused, perhaps still wanting him in the way she had that night, but most of all, afraid. Hope slowly became aware she was lying in an empty bathtub, shivering. At one point she had kicked the drain plug off and let the warm water siphon away from her skin. She felt cold, alone, empty. It took all of her strength to pull herself up, grasping the sides of the tub, and get out.
Seconds later, she stared at a blurred reflection in the steamy mirror, a towel wrapped under her armpits, another turbaned on her head. She remembered, with a sad smile, how he had come after her that night. She ran her hands along her arms as Chase had when he had tried to offer comfort, feeling the magic of it all over again. If only things could have ended then, before she had truly lost herself to him. She picked a hand towel up off the bathroom sink, and rubbed a hole in the steam so she could see herself clearly. She flashed back to the girl who had assessed herself in the mirror that summer night, before leaving for the Hattons’. The two reflections stood side by side in her mind: one young and innocent, one older, and hopefully, wiser.
Tomorrow she would see Chase; that she could do nothing about. But, she promised herself, she would write her story about him, and then it would be over for good. Thoughtfully, she blew out the candles and went to bed.
CHAPTER SIX
Across town, Chase lay in bed, staring at the alarm clock’s reflection in the dresser mirror, caught up in the same memory.
When his mom told Chase the Creswells were coming for dinner, he had been thrilled. He saw it as an opportunity to finally ask Hope out. He’d be on his own turf. He always felt more comfortable with her there, away from the high-pressure social setting of school. He got dressed up, and hoped neither of his parents would notice and mortify him by commenting on it in front of Hope.
Seeing her, his hormones simply seemed to go into overdrive that night; it was the only way he could explain it. The table tennis game was a struggle, not just because Hope was good at table tennis, but because he was so distracted by her presence. For instance, when he retrieved a stray ball and turned his head, catching sight of her, what could only be described as fantastic, legs, he all but drooled. Watching her toned arms and forever legs, he kept imagining them locking around him with surprising strength. It was not only that, but also the way she flicked her gorgeous hair over her shoulders, making him want to twine his fingers through its thickness and draw her close. It was that damned halter top, hinting at those sumptuous curves underneath, and the glowing skin, taunting him as the light danced off it. It was the cute, quivery thing her smile did when he teased her about the nickname Mr. Stout had given her. All of this compounded to drive him to his stupid, immature behavior at the pond.
When she surfaced like some Naiad—water dripping from her hair, lashes damp, face bright with the initial thrill of her actions—he froze. Her eyes were wide and even more intense in the moonlight, her breathing still uncontrolled after the excitement and exertion of a nocturnal plunge. His eyes strayed to her lips, which had been wide in laughter, and then trembled, as if they were momentarily unsure of how to act. He longed to feel their warmth, even as the heat was radiating out from her tiny wrists, caught in his hands. He could feel her heart beating furiously under his fingertips.
And then, just when it seemed they would kiss, Hope pulled back.<
br />
When she climbed out on the dock, Chase was too shocked to look away. It was only after she had disappeared that he moved, swimming as fast as he could to catch up with her. He pulled himself out of the water and threw on underwear and shorts. He grabbed his shirt, stepped into sandals, and zipped his shorts on the run, pulling the shirt on before he left the shelter of trees.
He retraced their steps, but saw no sign of Hope. She wasn’t in the garage, which was still lighted. He cracked the door to the house open, and only heard the pleasant hum of the adults’ voices. She was not there. Slowing down to think, he realized there would have been wet footprints on the concrete had she come that way. He plodded around to the back of the house.
That was when he saw her. Hope was silhouetted in the moonlight where she sat on one of the swings dangling from their old swing set. Hands clasped the chains, but her head was down and she barely moved. Chase approached her with caution, almost afraid she would run again. As he drew near, he was certain Hope could hear him, but she remained still, not even lifting her head. Chase moved slowly around the slide to stand in front of her. He knelt down, placing his hands just below her small ones, still gripping the chains.
“Hope—”
“I’m sorry, Chase. I—”
“You have nothing to be sorry for, Hope. I’m the one who should be sorry. I shouldn’t—”
“I didn’t want you to think I was…” she blurted out. She lifted her head and looked vaguely past his shoulder, seeming to search for the words to make him understand. Now that the moonlight was on her face, he could see she had tears running down her cheeks. “I was”—her voice shook—“like Chip told everybody I was. Ugh! I sound like such an idiot!” She flew out of the swing, nearly knocking Chase over, and turned her back to him.
He thought Hope was going to run off again, but she didn’t. She leaned one hand against the deck of the slide, the other hand on a hip, shaking her head in frustration.
“Hope.” Chase gently took the distraught girl by the shoulders and turned her. Peering into anxious eyes, he struggled to find the words to say to reassure her. He suddenly understood the difficult position girls were in. If they didn’t give in to a boy’s demands on a date, they were frigid. If they did, they were easy. It was a no-win situation. Chase wondered if he had made any girl feel as frightened and torn as he could now see Hope was. He reached up and touched her face, brushing a tear away with his thumb.
“I know you are not anything like what Chip has been saying. I know who you are, Hope. It’s okay. You don’t have to explain anything to me.”
“But I shouldn’t have—”
“I shouldn’t have teased you, or made you feel uncomfortable by…jumping in like I did.” Suddenly, blinding white light lit the yard. Chase stepped instinctively in front of Hope, hiding her from those in the house. They heard the porch door creak open.
“Chase!” his mom called. “Time to come in.”
“Okay, Mom,” he called hurriedly. He could see the figure of his mom turn away and hear the door bang shut behind her.
“Oh my gosh! What am I going to do?” Hope said in a panic, her hand reaching up to feel her damp hair. “My mom’s going to know I went swimming.”
Chase thought quickly. “I’ll tell them you weren’t feeling well…and I walked you home. You can act like you just hopped out of the shower when she gets there. She won’t suspect a thing.”
Slowly, Hope’s face relaxed into a smile. “That’s brilliant.”
Happy to see her brighten at last, Chase said proudly, “Yeah, I’m good.”
“Only, not so good at table tennis,” she teased, seeming to have recovered her former cheer. “Chase.” She looked down for a second, then returned her gaze to his. “Thanks. Thanks for everything. You’re really a great guy,” she added softly.
As he gazed down into her face, he knew he wanted to kiss her. But he knew just as surely the time was not right. Someday though, he promised himself, he would kiss her. He rubbed his hands along the soft skin of her arms. “You’re pretty great yourself.” He sighed, glancing back at the house. “You’d better go.” He squeezed her arms, and then released her.
She nodded and turned toward home. “Good night,” she called over her shoulder.
“Good night, Hope,” he murmured softly. It was the most provocative night of his life, and he hadn’t even kissed her.
That thought kept him up half the night.
* * *
At eight a.m. Chase again stood transfixed before the windows of his penthouse. Soon, Hope would be knocking on his door. He had never felt this nervous before, not even his first time on stage. She’s just an old flame, is all, he told himself. That was all years ago. She dumped me the night of senior prom and went on with her life, just like I did.
But, despite his best efforts, the words remained hollow. Hope wasn’t just an old flame; she was the only one to have ever lit his fire at all. Sure, he had dated many women in the intervening years. Being a rock star had its benefits, after all. But no one had made him feel the way he had felt around Hope Creswell, and he doubted anyone could.
He stopped pacing in front of the windows and picked up his guitar, strumming it fretfully, hoping music would calm him down. And it did, a little. He closed his eyes and softly sang the familiar lyrics, feeling them as he had felt them many years ago when he had written them down on the back of a laundry claim ticket.
You took from me my Hope, leaving me empty and cold,
Now these arms ache, ‘cause it’s you they want to hold,
The woman I hold thinks I love her, she hasn’t a clue
All I can think about when I hold her is you.
Empty and aching you sent me away
And all of these years, they have kept me at bay
And others have come, but there’s no one to stay
And at night I keep searching for words I could say
To keep you from turning away
To keep Hope from draining away
To just get me through ‘til the day
Agitated, Chase swept a hand angrily across the chords, creating a harsh, jarring noise suited to his temper. He jumped up, throwing his guitar on the couch and taking up pacing again in front of the windows. He sighed and threw his head back, running hands through his long hair, and laughed brokenly.
You’re a fool, Chase. You’re not the boy you once were. You’ve grown and changed, and so has she. Hope Creswell was nothing more than a childhood crush. Sure, she hurt you once, but she doesn’t have that power anymore. I’ll let her have her little interview, and that will be the end of it.
The doorbell rang and he jumped. So why is it my heart is going a hundred miles an hour?
He went to answer it.
* * *
When Chase opened the door, Hope was looking down, her thick, black eyelashes contrasting with her fair skin as she examined her shuffling feet, waiting for someone to answer her ring. There was an innocence in her face that was captured in the first millisecond before realizing she was being observed. But hearing the noise of the door opening, she glanced up quickly. Their eyes locked, and they both froze for several seconds, unable to speak.
Although he had seen her brilliant eyes a hundred times in his dreams over the past eight years, seeing them here, now, even though he had mentally prepared himself for her visit, took his breath away. His heart, which had been beating wildly in anticipation of her visit, now seemed to stop, and then a second later, charge ahead, as if trying to beat its way out of his chest. His palms on the doorframe became sweaty, and he tried to gather his wits so as not to appear like the lovesick whelp he now felt himself to be.
Hope looked very much the same as she had eight years prior. She wore her long, golden-brown, straight hair in two braids dangling past her shoulders. He was barely able to suppress a desire to touch the feathery tips below the rubber bands holding them together. Her hands were stuck deep into the pockets of the slouchy tweed coat sh
e wore over a tight-fitting, baby-blue, v-neck t-shirt, which fit snugly over her hips and dark blue jeans, hanging slightly lower than the bottom of her jacket. As in high school, she had a camera slung carelessly around her neck, like an Olympian’s gold medal, and nearly as valuable to her.
Slowly, a smile spread across his face, and he forced himself to exhale, saying, “So, it is you.”
She smiled in return, a little shyly, he thought, responding, “Hello, Chase.”
She held out her hand and he was taken aback, the gesture seeming too stiff and formal considering their intimate past, but after a second, he took it and shook it warmly, covering it with his other hand as well. His touch and smile seemed to relax her a little. Maybe this wouldn’t be so difficult after all. They both were adults now; they should be able to act maturely.
“Come in,” he invited, standing aside to allow her to pass. He never took his eyes off her as she entered, soaking in the details they offered. Her short jacket, coming just to her waist, permitted him a clear view of her tight tush and shapely hips. She had filled out some since her tree-climbing days when they had first met. She still had the muscles of an athlete, and the tomboy she once was, but now, time had added the soft, tempting curves of womanhood. Though her t-shirt hugged her hips temptingly and covered the tops of her jeans’ pockets, he still fantasized about sticking his hands in those pockets and feeling her warmth.
He watched her face as she gazed about, seeing the glow of excitement that was sweetly familiar to him. He had almost forgotten just how lovely her face was. She had a clear complexion, delicate features, and big, expressive eyes. Whatever she felt could be seen on her face; she had no gift for pretense. Her eyes were unique, a pale blue with thin rays of yellows and browns radiating out from the center, like a starburst, the outside of the iris a thin circle of black. The mix of colors was not a distracting feature. In fact, it was something that wouldn’t be noticed at a distance, but up close, they were mesmerizing.
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