I could relive the night before.
So I did. Happily.
After we got deep during pizza, Chace led us firmly out of deep. The good news was, after our conversation there wasn’t any residual heaviness underlying the evening. The other good news was, for the rest of the night, neither of us had a problem talking.
This, I had to admit, was mostly due to Chace guiding the evening. He asked more about my family. He asked about my schooling. He asked about my time in Denver and the grueling schedule I had, going back to Denver on the weekends to do my Master’s coursework while working at the library in Carnal. And he taught me how to make chocolate peanut butter sundaes which were exactly all their name cracked them up to be.
After that, with his arm light around my waist, he perused my shelves, my DVDs, my CDs, my books and the rest. He teased me about my chakram in a sweet way that wasn’t mean at all. It made me feel warm all over not to mention he made it clear he thought my geekiness was cute. He laughed when I cracked a joke. He told me when we watched TV he got to pick (suffice it to say, I was not wrong about Southland). He asked what “frak” meant and I explained it was how they said the f-word on Battlestar Gallactica which made him roar with laughter. The best part about that was I got to watch.
He also showed me what he got the boy. Deli turkey and swiss that he put in one of those disposable but reusable plastic storage tubs. Three bottles of different flavored energy drink. A box of Lucky Charms and one of Golden Grahams. More milk. Grapes washed and in another tub. A bag of washed, prepared baby carrots. Six different kinds of candy bars. A pack of paper plates, another of paper bowls. A set of camp cutlery. And a really nice Swiss army knife. It was thoughtful and generous and as we went through it, Ella Mae started singing to me again.
After that, we sat on my couch, Chace arranging us so we were sitting but also (yum!) cuddling and he told me more about his Mom. It was clear he loved her. He didn’t lie when he said they were tight because the things he said made it clear she loved him too. The only damper on the evening (though I didn’t expose I thought this, I just listened and smiled) was that it also sounded like she was mentally unstable. Strangely, Chace didn’t dance around it and the matter-of-fact way he described it made it sound disturbingly normal. Then again, maybe it wasn’t strange seeing as, for him, clearly since he could remember, it was a fact of life.
But I had to admit, it disturbed me. A father who was too hard on him, not a good role model when he was young and more not one when he was older who he detested and a Mom who wasn’t just flighty and sensitive but, perhaps, mentally ill didn’t sound good.
I had a close loving family. My Dad was a character. My Mom was a nurturer. My sister was a drama queen, but loving. My brother was a rebel, but also loving. I was a dreamer, a geek and shy, but, I hoped, loving.
I couldn’t wrap my mind around how Chace grew up. And the fact that he had no brothers or sisters (something Chace told me his Mom couldn’t do, something else that distressed her to an unhealthy extreme) made me sad. I’d lay down my life for Liza and Jude. They felt the same.
But no one had Chace’s back.
The more I learned, the more it seemed that this was ever. No one ever had his back. Not growing up. Not now. Not Misty. Definitely not his Dad. Not even his Mom who loved him, but depended on him. She was so frail, he had no choice but to do everything he could, even as a kid, not to depend on her.
These thoughts fled my head when Chace stopped our conversation on the couch and started kissing me. This didn’t last as long as I would have liked and got nowhere near past kissing. This was kind of a relief because I had a sense he understood I wasn’t experienced but I wasn’t sure he knew the extent of my inexperience and I wasn’t all fired up for him to know (just yet). But truthfully, it was more of a disappointment because, seriously, he was a good kisser and I was definitely into it. So into it, when he stopped it in a sweet way and in an equally sweet way announced it was time he was getting on, I was thinking that I could do nothing but just kiss him for eternity.
His leaving was not a relief, just a disappointment.
I didn’t share that, I just nodded.
He got up, pulled me out of the couch and walked me to the door. He put on his jacket. Then we made out more by the door.
He stopped that too (way too soon), kissed my nose in that sweet way he did in my office and murmured, “I’ll call you tomorrow.”
“Okay,” I breathed.
He smiled.
Then he was gone.
I’d had four dates. Not a vast amount of experience.
Still, I knew that was not a good date.
It was a great one.
I knew this because it got heavy. It got deep. But it was also light and fun. He was interested in me, didn’t mind showing it and digging to learn more. He didn’t mind that I showed I was interested in him and, when I cautiously dug, he was open and honest. We laughed. We cuddled. We made out.
And chocolate peanut butter sundaes were the bomb.
Lying in bed thinking of our night, I sighed.
The last thing he did last night was promise to call.
The first thing he did this morning was keep his promise.
That was when, in bed, I smiled.
Then I threw back the covers and got out.
Eight twenty-nine the same day
I jumped when my passenger side door was thrown open but I didn’t cry out this time.
This was because I knew when I turned my head, I’d find Chace.
And this was what I found.
I smiled at him, accepted the heart flutter that witnessing his return smile gave me and saw he was in much the same outfit as yesterday. But under his jacket, he had an oatmeal, wool, crewneck sweater on over his jeans shirt, a jeans shirt that was a lot more faded. It looked good against his tanned skin so I hoped one day I’d see all of it.
It must be said that Chace’s clothes were cool. He always looked like he’d walked straight from the pages of a beer advertisement marketed toward wannabe cowboys, rodeo stars and country singers. But with him, the way he walked, held himself, his extreme masculinity, his height, the lean muscle evident under his clothes, it was not a case of the clothes making the man.
Not even close.
It was the other way around.
He was extending my coffee, I took it and he hefted himself in while I examined the cup.
Sunny or Shambles were branching out. In teal, purple, hot pink, tangerine, lime and yellow marker were stars and hearts with fat, colored in swirls around them. It actually was kind of a mini coffee cup work of art.
“Faye.”
My head came up from examining my coffee cup as my heart again fluttered at Chace saying my name in a soft voice.
The instant my head came up, he tagged me around the back of the neck and pulled me to him.
Then he kissed me.
This was a new one.
I had very limited experience kissing. In fact, the kisses I’d shared with Chace more than doubled the kisses I’d had my whole life. I liked them all (Chace’s, that was).
Including this one.
His mouth moved over mine then opened slightly so I followed suit. Then his tongue slid in, not a thrust, not an invasion but a lazy stroke.
My belly melted, my blood heated and I nearly lost my coffee.
He broke his mouth from mine but only moved about a millimeter away.
“Mornin’,” he whispered, his deep blue eyes looking into mine.
“Morning, Chace,” I whispered back and watched his eyes smile.
His hand took it’s time sliding from my neck, taking my hair with it in a way that felt like he was enjoying running it through his fingers.