I said.
He didn’t respond.
“I’m ready to head back now.” I turned to go back to the passenger side of the car, but Chase reached out and grasped my arm. I stilled, not sure why he stopped me.
His hand slipped down my arm to my hand, and his fingers linked with mine.
I didn’t dare speak. Move. Or even look at him.
“Don’t let Ryan hold your hand again,” he said.
I swallowed down my confusion. “Huh?”
“I don’t want Ryan holding your hand anymore.”
A million thoughts inundated my brain, none of which made any freaking sense. Why did he care if Ryan held my hand? Why did he think he could give me another order? Why was he currently holding my hand? “Then stop holding Chantel’s hand,” I countered, instantly wanting to eat my words. Why had I said that? Did I actually feel that way?
His eyes cut to mine, and a shiver skimmed down my spine. “Done.”
We stayed like that, with our hands locked, for a long time, just watching the crashing waves. Both in our own heads. Both admitting feelings we probably would have rather not. What in the world was going on?
He eventually released my hand and turned to his door, pulling it open.
I walked back around to my side and got in.
I expected him to turn the car around in the overlook, but he didn’t. He pulled back out onto the road and continued driving along the coast. I wanted to ask what he was thinking. If we were going to move forward as enemies or friends. But the fear of him turning on me, weighed heavy on my mind and caused my lips to remained zipped.
A short time later, Chase hit his blinker again and turned into a gravel parking lot where a food truck sat parked. Once he cut the engine, he hopped out of the car. I followed him to the food truck, where the menu was written on a chalkboard on the side of the truck. Everything contained shrimp. Good thing I liked seafood.
“See anything you’d like?” Chase asked.
“Shrimp tacos and fries.”
He smiled before turning to the worker in the truck. “Make it two.” He pulled out his money.
“I have money,” I said, reaching for my back pocket.
Again, he reached out and grabbed my arm. This time his hand elicited tingles in the spot.
Dammit.
“You’re not paying,” he assured me.
I relaxed as he released my arm and paid the guy in the truck.
“Come on.” He led me to a picnic table where we could wait for our food.
We sat on opposite sides and both stared out at the view.
“You’re quiet,” Chase said.
“I don’t really know what to say,” I admitted, my eyes still on the coast.
I could sense him nodding, as if he understood my sentiments.
“Did I do something to make you hate me when we first met?” My eyes moved from the ocean back to him.
He grabbed hold of the hat on his head and twisted it back around so it sat backward on his head. “I’m a complicated guy.”
“Sounds like a load of BS.”
He scoffed.
“Am I wrong?”
He shrugged.
“I think you’re confused. Like you want to hate me, but you can’t.”
“Oh, I definitely can and have.”
“See? That’s what I don’t get. What did I ever do to you?”
He pegged me with his eyes. “You came to Houston.”
I flinched, his words blowing all clear thoughts from my head.
“I had my whole semester planned out. All the things I needed to accomplish,” his eyes drifted from mine. “Then you showed up and threw everything on its head.”
My heart began to race. What was he talking about? How had I done that?
“I don’t want to like you, Sophia. But I do. And I don’t know what to do with that.” He glanced back to me. “And it’s pissing me the hell off.”
I pressed my lips together, not really sure what else to do in that moment. It confused me. It elated me. It messed with my head. There were two different versions of Chase. The protective, caring one. And the mean, bossy one. I just never knew who I’d get, and that pissed me off.
“So, I guess I picked you up today because I needed to see if I did something nice for you if you’d smile at me the way you smile at fucking Ryan.”
My eyes widened. “Do you want me to smile at you like I smile at him?”
He shrug-nodded, such an unfamiliar vulnerability emanating from him.
“Then be nice to me. I’m not your enemy.”
“It’s not that