‹ Prequel: Let's Waste Time
Sequel: Around Our Heads
Status: Complete

Chasing Cars

Fifteen

Chris and I kept our distance for the next week. I cried a lot. And I felt a little crazy. I missed him. He called every day like he used to, but we didn’t talk nearly as much, and there was always an air of sadness lingering. He just wanted to check in, see how I was doing, and let me know he was okay. But it felt like he wasn’t even there.

He picked me up on the day of my appointment. He stayed with me through the exam and didn’t say much of anything. Neither did I. And we had the same lingering melancholy over lunch. We didn’t talk much at all until he dropped me off.

He pulled his car up out front of the store, but we both just sat there, not moving, not saying anything. Both feeling lost and broken.

“I miss you,” he finally said, still staring out of the window at the street.

“I miss you too,” I admitted.

He turned toward me and pinched my chin to get me to look at him. The kiss was soft. Just a press of his lips against mine. But my fingers dug into his arm anyway. My heart fluttered. There was no way we could pass it off as anything other than a kiss of longing.

I didn’t see him again until the following Tuesday. He called while I was at work and asked if I’d come over to Vic’s place for dinner. Vic was another member of his team. Most of them didn’t even live in San Francisco. So he only really hung out with the few who did. And Vic had apparently offered him a spare room when he needed a place to crash on short notice.

But I agreed, and he said he’d pick me up at home. He still called it home. And I liked that he did. It felt less permanent. This was just a temporary setback we could work through. I just wasn’t sure that I could.

After work, he came to get me as promised. But when I opened the door, the two of us just stood there staring at each other with that same sense of broken longing. We were acting like strangers. Like we did when we wanted each other, but so many complications kept us apart.

I wanted us to go back to the way we were. After all the trouble with Trent and Heidi. When we finally gave in and were ourselves with each other. When he’d come through the door, and I’d jump into his arms. The way he’d always laugh as if it caught him off guard even though I did it a million times. But now, he only touched me to take my arm and help me down the stairs like I couldn’t do it myself. I could. I just wanted the excuse to touch him. So I didn’t say anything. But the second we were on the ground floor, he added two feet of space between us.

We only kept up with small talk on the way back to Vic’s house. Vic lived in a smaller two-bedroom on the other side of town. Even though they were in the big leagues now, they still lived in relatively humble homes. I was pretty sure that’s why Chris gravitated toward Josh and Vic more than his other teammates. Vic wasn’t a nerd or anything like Josh, who wrote comic books under a pen name. He was just a chill dude that was easy to get along with.

He’d given Chris his storage room without question. Chris showed it to me when we got there. And it looked more like a storage room than a bedroom. A bed was pushed up against one wall, and some of Chris’s things were there. But otherwise, it looked like it was just a place where Vic tossed all the stuff he didn’t want to deal with. I didn’t like it. I’d kicked Chris out of his home and forced him to occupy a storage room.

Vic had dinner with us. We all sat together in front of his big TV to eat. Vic and I had always gotten along well. But that was primarily due to him just being so stupidly friendly with everyone that it was hard not to get along with him. Chris told me he wasn’t the best roommate since he spent all his time jabbering about sports and/or whatever cool new gadget was on the market. Nevertheless, I was still grateful he was there to make dinner less awkward.

But he disappeared after dinner. He said he wanted to go clean up since he was surprisingly non-grimy for a sports dude. So Chris and I sat on the couch alone while he ran off somewhere. He asked me to stay and finish the movie with him, and I was still looking for any excuse not to leave him. So I agreed, and it took me maybe another half hour before I realized Vic never came back.

“Where’d Vic go?” I asked Chris. He was slouched on the couch beside me, arm slung over the back like he sat at home.

“I think I had an errand to run or something,” he said.

“I didn’t even notice him leave.”

“He’s sneaky when he wants to be.”

I sat back against him, and his arm came down around me like always. I knew I’d broken up with him, and we were in a weird limbo state of our relationship. But I snuggled up against him anyway. It felt natural for us to be touchy-feely with each other. We had been even when we were just friends who fucked like rabbits.

But then I felt him move his head toward me, so I looked up at him. He stared at me again for a long, painful moment before leaning in. I moved in to meet him and gripped my fingers into his shirt as he kissed me. His hand moved to my hair to pull me closer. I spread my fingers out over his chest. My heart was pounding, and I didn’t want this to stop. I wanted to pretend for a moment that there wasn’t a baby coming between us. It was just him and me again, and this was perfectly normal behavior, even though we were making out in Vic’s living room.

We kissed for so long that we really were just making out. It was no longer one of those soft kisses full of longing. Instead, it was passion and—well, still longing—but mostly tongue and a lot of heavy breathing. And neither of us even noticed when the front door opened and Vic returned. At least not until he cleared his throat and Chris broke away from me.

“Um—I should probably go,” I let out.

“I’ll give you a ride.”

“Thanks for dinner, Vic.”

“Not a problem. Hope you come over again,” he said. I nodded and smiled as Chris helped me up off the couch.

We launched right back into the silence. Both thinking our own thoughts. Both suffering in our own ways. When we pulled up out front of the apartment, I looked down at my hands and made no move to get out.

“Um—I just want you to know—that if you ever just—want to hang out or—stay the night or anything. You’re welcome to,” I told him. I looked up, and I could tell by the expression on his beautiful face that he knew what I was offering. He could come in. We could be like we used to. He replied with a light smile. But it was tight. Forced.

“Don’t make this any harder than it already is, Mar,” he said. I sighed heavily.

“You’re right. I’m sorry. I just—I miss you so much.”

“I miss you too.”

“I’ll let you go. Thanks for dinner.”

I hurried to get myself out of the car, stumbling over my stupid, awkward fingers as I yanked the door open.

“Marley,” he said.

But I didn’t stop. I knew if I did, I would just cry, and I would make it worse anyway. So I just shut the door, hoping it didn’t come off like I was angry. And then I hurried inside. By the time I reached the lobby, tears were already filling my eyes. I didn’t want to be his booty call or anything, but I wanted him to come home.