Chasing Love (Mountain Creek Drive Book 3)

by Kayla Tirrell

  “Why are you asking me about 5ks?”

  Chase shrugged. “I thought maybe you’d want to try out for the cross country team.”

  “Why in the world would I want to do that?”

  “I was thinking about what you said. You know, about no one knowing who you were? Maybe being a part of a team would help you make friends. You wouldn’t feel like the shy girl anymore.”

  I felt my temper rise. He was trying to help me make friends? Like I was some charity case? I bit my tongue as I counted down from ten in my head.

  Ten. Nine. Eight. Seven.

  “Nicole?”

  “What?” I snapped back, cringing at how pissed I sounded. So much for making a good impression. Just yell at the boy why don’t you, Nicole?

  “I’ve seen you run. You were crazy fast when you were chasing your dog down Main the other day. And now, I think we’ve run a couple miles, and you didn’t complain. With a little training, you could be good. Like, really good.”

  “So, you’re saying I should join because I don’t have friends? Or because I can run?”

  “I wasn’t saying you don’t have friends.” He lifted his hands in surrender.

  “Good, because I do. I’m like, best friends with last year’s Homecoming queen.”

  At least Chase had the decency to look embarrassed. Did his perfect olive skin have a pinkish tint to it? Good. He certainly deserved to feel ashamed of himself. But apparently, that wasn’t enough to shut him up because he couldn’t help but add, “Just think about it. Okay?”

  “Fine,” I lied, thankful I could see my car down the street. Only a couple more minutes with Chase—maybe less if we started walking faster.

  “I hope you do.” I watched him run a hand over his face out of the corner of my eye. I was trying not to look at him, but even those small movements caught my attention. Stupid, pretty boys and everything they do being cute.

  “Anyway,” he continued. “I’m supposed to go in for another training shift later today, and I should probably take a shower, so I don’t scare away customers.”

  I snorted. It would be impossible for Chase to scare away any customers, even if he showed up to work sweaty from a run. If anything, the freshmen from Rosemark would be begging their parents to drive them up to Blockbuster just for a chance to see him.

  We didn’t talk anymore, and soon Chase was slowing down. I hadn’t noticed his truck, my gaze trained on my car less than a block away at this point. I’d been busy estimating the number of steps until I reached it. I guessed twenty-three.

  “I’ll see ya, Nicole.” He gave a small wave.

  “Yeah, see ya,” I grumbled, before continuing toward my own vehicle.

  Chapter Five

  Three days later, Chase had finished his training, and we were scheduled to work together—alone.

  I still wasn’t sure how I felt about Chase. There was no denying he gave me butterflies. Every time I saw him, I got giddy. But that was always before he opened his big, fat mouth. Once he did that, my butterflies all stopped fluttering and let my blood pressure take over. He was so self-assured, and I just knew he looked down on me.

  The jerk.

  It made me think of that line I always heard people say—there’s a thin line between love and hate. Obviously, I wasn’t in love with him, nor was I in hate with him. I wondered if that saying applied to crushes and frustration.

  I walked into work that afternoon with a single goal—I was going to be chill.

  I was going to remain unaffected by Chase.

  I wasn’t going to let him irritate me.

  I wasn’t going to crush on him.

  I wasn’t going to… punch the gorgeous brunette who was talking to him.

  She wore a pair of super low jeans with a shirt that barely covered her midriff. The edges of her bright pink thong were showing in the back. Whoever decided visible underwear was a fashion statement was truly the worst. I couldn’t wait until the next big thing came along, even if that meant we were all wearing mom jeans that came up to our belly buttons.

  The girl in question was laughing at something Chase said and flipping her shiny brown hair over her shoulders. I didn’t know who she was, but I already hated her—not because she was talking to Chase, of course.

  Just on principle. No girl should ever act that ditzy.

  Even if Chase looked amazing in his uniform. It was a disservice to the entire female population.

  I pushed back the jealousy as I came behind the counter.

  “Hey, Chase,” I said in a sweet voice.

  “Nicole.” He looked at me and gave me a quick smile before turning back to Miss Fredrick’s of Hollywood. “Andrea here was just asking about getting a membership card since she's new in town.”

  Andrea. Now I had a name to go with my feelings.

  “I’m going to UC Boulder,” she added with an air of superiority and a smile as plastic as the boobs under her shirt.

  “Like me,” Chase said.

  Just like Chase.

  “Neat,” I replied lamely.

  “Anyway,” Chase continued. “John is in the back finishing up some things before he goes, and I wasn’t sure what to do.”

  Oh, he knew exactly what to do. Chase took that opportunity to flirt with hot college girls with IQs lower than the minimum age to rent R-movies.

  I pulled the pad of paper applications from the counter. It had been sitting right next to Chase. “She’ll need to fill this out and give us two forms of ID with a local address.” I took a small amount of joy watching her face fall. A college student new to the area wouldn’t have a local address. I doubted she had a credit card either.

  “Oh, well…” She pushed her perfectly red lips out into a pout. “I guess I’ll just have to use my parent's account.” She reached into her purse and pulled out the blue laminated card. I rolled my eyes. Of course, she already had an account. I wondered how many others would be tempted to open new accounts just because of Chase. We’d have the highest membership of any store in the state.

  Chase checked her movies out and wished her a good day.

  “I’ll see you around,” she answered in a sickly-sweet voice before she sashayed through the exit door.

  Once she had left, Chase turned to me. “So, I was thinking about cross country some more.” He didn’t even try to start with small talk. “I know school starts next week. I really think you should try out. You should know, they never have enough girls, so you’ll definitely make the team.”

  Oh, great. Not only was he trying to push me into a group, but it was one I literally couldn’t be rejected from. I was clocking in on the register when he added, “You might even make varsity.”

  My fingers stopped mid-typing. I wasn’t athletic, but colleges liked students who were well-rounded. Currently, I had a high GPA and an outrageous amount of community service hours thanks to my parents’ suggestion I volunteer at the local library over the summers shelving books.

  My extra-curriculars, however, were as lacking as my social life. I just hadn’t been able to find my thing yet—not that I hadn’t tried.

  Freshman year, it was Drama. But I had such intense stage fright, I couldn’t even do warm-up exercises with my classmates. The drama teacher had pulled me aside after the first couple of weeks and asked if I would be interested in set design. I painted props until it was finally time to pick new electives.

  Sophomore year, I tried Student Government. I was motivated, I wanted change. Unfortunately, it turned out that students didn’t have the power to do anything around campus. We couldn’t change lunch menus or school start times. It all had felt completely useless. Besides, being the historian was about as lame as it could get. (Although my mom had been excited about the possibility of teaching me all about her scrapbooking.)

  Junior year, I joined Future Business Leaders of America, but when they went around the room asking everyone what kind of business they wanted to own, I didn’t have an answer. I wasn’t even sure I wa
nted to be a business owner. I just wanted to sound important. In the end, I found that club to be as pointless as the rest.

  Senior year was just starting, and I’d given up on trying anything new. My plan consisted of crossing my fingers and hoping that college admissions wouldn’t notice my lack of clubs.

  Earning a varsity letter for cross country would mean I would automatically be part of Letterman Club. It was a place for jocks and cheerleaders, not a place for girls like me. But it would be another box to check when filling out applications—a very important box.

  I finished logging in and turned to face Chase. In the time it had taken me to type the correct numbers, he’d gotten closer. So close, I could smell the cologne he was wearing. It wasn’t the aerosol stuff the rest of the guys at Rosemark wore. The kind that burned your nostrils if they got too close. Amy swore she liked it, but I still had my doubts. How any girl could enjoy tasting the aroma coming off a guy was something I just could not comprehend.

  Chase’s scent was much less intense. I wanted to lean in and take a bigger whiff. I balled my hands into fists in an effort to keep myself grounded to where I stood.

  “How fast do you need to be to make varsity?” I asked. I struggled to keep my voice bored despite my eagerness.

  “I’m not sure about the girls team, but I bet you could easily make it with a seven or eight-minute mile.”

  My lips pursed at his response. I still didn’t know how fast I was. I’d never timed myself. “And a race is about three miles?”

  “Just over.”

  “So I’d need to be able to do that in under twenty-four minutes?” I felt silly as soon as the words left my mouth. Way to show off your fine math skills, Nicole. For my next trick, I could do simple division.

  Chase nodded as he leaned against the counter beside me. His posture was easy. I didn’t think I’d ever seen him look flustered or stressed—always confident, as if the world bent to all his wishes.

  “And if I could do that, I would get my varsity letter?”

  “I think so.”

  “Does that mean I’d be in Letterman Club?”

  His eyebrows furrowed. “I guess. If you wanted to.”

  I started nodding my head, excited to see where this would lead. I started formulating a plan of how I was going to make varsity when the door rang.

  “Welcome to Blockbuster,” I said loudly. It was the automatic greeting we were supposed to call out whenever someone came in. Considering so many of our customers were from Rosemark, it got a little old.

  Amy walked in the front door, a goofy grin on her face. I now regretted telling her we’d be working together today. When she came walking inside the building, it wasn’t for a movie to watch tonight, although I knew she’d get one for show. No, she came because she wanted to see Chase and see how horribly awkward I was with him.

  I glanced over at Chase, who was putting a VHS in the machine that rewound movies customers didn’t. He wasn’t looking at Amy or me, so I stuck my tongue at her.

  She started making a kissy motion, and I gave her a hardened stare that said, “Stop it, or I will murder you!”

  She giggled and went to the comedy section.

  “Friend of yours?” Chase asked from behind me. My stomach felt like it dropped. How long had he been standing there? I was afraid to know how much he’d seen.

  “Um… Why do you say that?” I squeaked.

  “It’s Amy Ferrera.” Of course, he knew who she was. “She’s a senior like you, first of all. And it looked like you were talking to her before she walked off.”

  “Yeah, well, I told you I was best friends with her. Did you think I lied?” I was still nervous about how much he’d seen, but he didn’t say anything about the faces she was making, so maybe he hadn’t caught the entire interaction.

  “You mean you’re not an island?” he joked.

  “Very funny.”

  He became serious. “Are you going to flip out again if I say I really wasn’t sure?”

  “Come on, Chase.” I rolled my eyes, still too anxious to get upset. “Even wallflowers have friends.”

  “You keep calling yourself that, but I don’t think that’s accurate.”

  “No?” I put my forefinger to my chin and tapped it lightly. “And what would you call me, Chase?”

  “Well,” he chuckled to himself like he’d just heard something hilarious, “If we follow your analogy, we could say you just haven’t blossomed yet.”

  I groaned. “That’s terrible.”

  “I know.” He continued to laugh. “I just couldn’t help myself.”

  “I feel like this is some terrible after-school special, and some cheesy eighties music is about to kick in.”

  Just then, I heard a terrible rendition of Don’t Stop Believing coming from behind me. I turned to see Amy standing behind me. In one hand she held a DVD case up to her mouth like a microphone. Her free hand was pressed to her ear.

  “What are you doing?” I asked, my own laughter fighting to come through.

  She stopped singing and placed her movie on the counter. “I heard you say, ‘some eighties music is about to kick in’ and I couldn’t help myself.”

  I continued to stare at her in disbelief. Not only was it completely out of character for her, but it was in front of Chase Saunders. What was she thinking?

  I grabbed the case and started to put my employee number into the computer. I would rent it out under my name and give it to Amy. She was always good about returning them on time, and there was no way I could watch all the free rentals I was allowed to have every week.

  I looked up at her. “Miss Congeniality?”

  “You know I’m a sucker for winning crowns.”

  Now I really was confused. I knew how much winning Homecoming queen messed with her.

  “Okay,” I answered slowly and proceeded to ring her up. “You know the drill. Don’t bring it back late.”

  “Yes, ma’am,” she said with a salute. When Chase turned to a customer who had walked over, Amy mouthed “You’re welcome” and left.

  Once she was gone, Chase looked at me and started laughing anew. “I had no idea Amy was such a character.”

  “Yeah, me neither,” I mumbled.

  “You should invite her to tryouts too. I bet the two of you would bring a lot of fun to the team.”

  “You think so?” I tucked a loose curl behind my ear.

  “Oh, definitely.”

  We spent the rest of our shift in a pleasant limbo, and while I probably had Amy to thank for that, I was still baffled by the way she acted.

  It was late when I got home so I couldn’t call Amy’s house. I turned on my computer and hoped she was online. When I signed onto AIM, her screen name popped up on my Buddy List. When she didn’t put a clever away message up, I started typing.

  NotNicole1123: WHAT WAS THAT????

  AmyAmyAmy: …

  NotNicole1123: Seriously, Amy. What were you thinking?

  AmyAmyAmy: Things looked a little tense. I thought I’d help loosen it up a bit.

  NotNicole1123: But you never act like that, especially NOT in front of someone like CHASE SAUNDERS!

  AmyAmyAmy: Well…*shrug* It’s easier with him than at school. Don’t ask me why.

  I snickered because I was definitely wondering how she was able to act that way when she was as shy as I was at school. I changed the subject.

  NotNicole1123: And how was your pageant movie?

  AmyAmyAmy: I actually love Sandra Bullock. And just because Homecoming was… whatever last year, I still like that stuff.

  I stifled a yawn as I read her last response. It had been a long day, and I was tired. Not only that, I had big plans for the next morning.

  NotNicole1123: Fair enough. I’m going to bed.

  AmyAmyAmy: Muah!

  NotNicole1123: Mmm hmm. I’ll call you tomorrow.

  I signed offline and barely made it to my bed before I passed out.

  The next morning, I woke up with th
e realization that summer was almost over. It was time to get started on Operation Letterman.

  I woke up still feeling tired from the night before but determined to make the varsity cross country team. I quickly threw my mess of curls up into a messy bun and put on some old soccer shorts and a tee.

  It was a weekday, so thankfully my mom wouldn’t be able to give me the third degree about why I didn’t dress up for my run that morning. I ate a granola bar, drank a tall glass of water, and got to work.

  Phase One: Figure out how long three miles was.

  I put the top down on my Mustang to enjoy the beautiful, warm weather and drove around the Drive in an attempt to find the perfect three-mile route. I kept clearing my trip speedometer and carefully going along different side streets until I found a path I was satisfied with.

  Once I was done, I was moving onto Phase Two: Figure out how fast I was.

  I went back to my house and grabbed Meatball to keep me company. She was always up for a run, and I thought it would take the pressure off.

  Boy, was I wrong.

  Everything felt off. I wasn’t sure if my pace was fast or slow. I’d never run competitively. I started out sprinting way too fast and got tired quickly. So, I slowed down. Anyone could easily walk faster than the speed I was going at that point, but I kept my movements true to what a runner would do and never stopped.

  Meatball must have been as confused about running as I was. She kept looking at me like I was nuts.

  I felt like a nut.

  When we made it back to the house, I looked down at my watch. Twenty-eight minutes. It wasn’t the time I had hoped for. It wasn’t even close. Part of me had secretly hoped for a time of twenty minutes, just to show Chase that I was deserving of that letter.

  I was still breathing heavily, as I went inside and started rethinking my strategy.

  After a few minutes, I’d convinced myself it was simply a case of first-time jitters. Next time I ran, I wouldn’t make a big deal out of it. Meatball and I would run like we usually did, and I wouldn’t think about my watch. My time would improve.