The Rush (The Siren Series) - By Rachel Higginson Page 0,54
know,” I agreed softly. “So what is it that you want to do? What’s at a liberal arts college that isn’t anywhere else?”
“Uh,” Chase stalled a minute while playing with the dials on the radio. “I’m thinking about Carleton College. It’s in Minnesota so not so far from home, and they have a smaller campus, small classrooms and all that.”
“Ok,” I smiled patiently at him. “And what would you be learning in those classrooms?”
He gave me a crooked smile, staring at me with those deep blue eyes of his and flashing his dimples before turning his eyes back to the road. It was like he was deciding if he could trust me or not.
But the thing was…. he couldn’t.
Or at least he shouldn’t.
“Social science,” he finally admitted, sounding completely embarrassed.
I fumbled with thoughts of how to turn that into career and came up completely empty-handed. “No wonder your parents are concerned for your future,” I joked.
“Hey now,” he shot me a playful glower and then explained “I want to run campaigns, like political campaigns. Start at the city and state level, like mayoral and state senators and then eventually work my way up to larger scale elections.”
“One day, presidential?” I guessed. I admired his ambition, his quiet dreams that were held with such obviously fierce resolve.
“Maybe,” he answered quietly, his cheeks heating with an embarrassed flush. “One day.”
“I love that,” I whispered. And I did. We were silent for a full minute before I announced decidedly, “Don’t take the trip of debauchery. You need to go to Carleton.”
His cheeks returned to their natural tanned tone and he nodded his head enthusiastically, “Well, when you put it like that…. and just when I had decided to sell my soul for a week of cheap tequila and hookers. Mom will be so disappointed.”
Laughter burst out of my mouth and Chase joined in. He reached out subtly and grabbed my hand, holding it gently in his. My breath caught in my throat at the super sweet gesture and I relaxed into the leather seat. We were driving through a neighborhood now close to Creighton University in north downtown Omaha. The houses were big and old here, some pathetically run down, and some immaculately taken care of. Poor were mixed with old wealth, multicultural diversity mixed Mexican restaurants, specialized hair salons and ethnic markets. College students layered the area that surrounded Creighton’s brick academic buildings and their brand new soccer stadium. This area was an intense mixture of culture but still it felt exactly like home, like everything that made up Omaha.
“I’m sure your future still holds plenty of opportunity for reckless debauchery. No need to worry.” I teased.
“Oh, I’m not worried,” Chase assured me with mock gravity.
He pulled the car over to the side of the street in front of a Victorian-inspired two story house. Phoenix’s house had a long front porch painted pastel yellow with a white porch swing that swayed in the cold night breeze. The yard was neatly trimmed where grass was allowed to grow, or in this case die with winter coming soon; but most of the yard was mulched and made into flower beds that held the remains of withered stems and dilapidated plants. There was a short, knee high picket fence that lined the property and didn’t really make much sense to me. It seemed too short to be of any real purpose and too tall to just be decorative. The front door was open, letting light spill out onto the front porch and cast shadows along the curving sidewalk that led to the house. I could see lots of movement just beyond the screen door, rowdy teenagers making the most of a no-parents-around scenario.
Chase’s hand gave mine a squeeze and I exhaled suddenly. I hadn’t realized how nervous I was for this party until just now. Excited, anxious, even a bit hopeful, but the peer pressure and teenage revelry that waited just beyond the door weighed down my constricting chest. Memories of my last house part, of Sam and our breakup…. of everything that happened that night rushed at my emotions like a speeding train while I stayed trapped and tied to the rails, just waiting for it to run over me…. a helpless damsel in distress silently screaming to be rescued.
I was kind of pathetic….
“Hey, we don’t have to go if you’re not up for it,” Chase assured me. His voice stayed calm and soothing, completely out of place from the atmosphere waiting for us