Page 9 of Our Moon (JACT #1)

Trevor worked some magic with The Art Institute, and I’m able to begin classes in the fall term, which is beginning in just a few weeks.

Evie and I have a shopping trip planned this weekend so I can get a ‘back to school’ wardrobe.

I’m looking forward to having some girl time with her.

The guys were right; Evie and I get along great.

But with her job--she’s a photographer--we don’t get to hang out that often.

That’s okay with me because when we do get together it’s more of a treat.

I’m sitting on the comfy couch in the living room reading ahead in one of my text books when the doorbell rings.

This has sort of become my room, like the boys have their man room.

I save my place in the book and make my way through the foyer to the front door.

Peeking through the peephole, I see it’s Chase.

Well, that’s odd. He usually comes right in.

“What’s up?” I ask as I open the door. He seems nervous, shuffling from one foot to the other.

“I, uh, I was just wondering what you were up to.” He’s looking down, not making eye contact. He has always come off as a little shy to me, but he’s usually a bit more confident than this.

I tilt my head to the side, trying to figure him out. “I’m just reading,” I tell him. “Want to come in?”

“Yeah,” he says. I pull the door open wider, and he steps past me into the house. “What are you reading?”

“Just a little bit of my textbook for class.” I close the front door and walk back to the living room.

I can hear his quiet footsteps behind me.

I get a secret thrill knowing he’s following me, and that he came over here for me in the first place.

I do a quick check of my attire as I walk.

Denim cut-offs, pink tank top, bra, all clean.

Good. I take a seat on the couch and gesture for him to sit beside me.

“I’m not interrupting you, am I?” he asks as he sits down awkwardly .

“No, I could probably use a break anyway. If I keep going, I’ll be the only dork in my class who finished the book before classes even begin.” I laugh a little at my own awkwardness.

“You’re not a dork,” he says quietly, still not making eye contact.

“Thanks,” I smile shyly. It seems the awkwardness that was missing when Chase and I shared cookies has revealed itself once again.

It has been mildly awkward between us ever since he sang that song to me a couple weeks ago.

I’ve only seen him in passing, since the band is busy finishing the album, but when I have seen him, I’ve gotten a simple head nod, not even a “hi.” He had said the song is personal.

I know I shouldn’t have pushed. Now he’s probably embarrassed he bared his soul to me in that way.

“So… why did you ring the doorbell?” I might as well ask what I was thinking.

He looks up at me, then back down quickly. “I knew the guys weren’t home, and I didn’t want to startle you by just walking in. Plus, I wanted to ask if you wanted to hang out, and just coming right in would have been a bit presumptuous.”

I’m a little high on the fact that he came over just to hang out with me; I’m definitely swooning on the inside. On the outside, I’m cool as a cucumber. I think.

“What do you want to do? ”

He looks up at me and an adorable, boyish smile takes up his face. “You want to hang out?”

I laugh, “I let you in, didn’t I? Why do you seem so surprised?”

He shakes his head. “I don’t know. I guess things just seem a little weird between us lately.”

“I know. I’m sorry I asked you to play the song.” Now it’s my turn to be shy and study my feet.

“What?” he asks. “No, don’t be sorry.”

I look up, and my gaze lands straight in his gorgeous eyes.

“But that’s when things got awkward. I mean we weren’t exactly best buds before that or anything, but we hung out and watched TV together, and it seemed like we were going to be friends.

Then I opened my stupid mouth and asked about the song.

You said it was personal, and I should have just dropped it. ”

“Ally,” Chase interrupted.

“Hmm?”

“It’s okay. Really.”

“It’s not okay.” I shake my head, getting upset. “We were going to be friends and then the song happened, and we haven’t spoken in nearly two weeks. ”

He scoots closer to me on the couch, his left leg is touching my right leg. I swear I can feel that electric current buzzing through our bodies. “Hey,” he says, bringing my stare from where our legs are meeting to his face. “Is that what you think? That we’re not friends anymore?”

I shrug my shoulders, not really knowing what to say. I’m emotional and completely overreacting, but that’s kind of par for the course as far as I’m concerned. I’m surprised I’m not having an anxiety attack, but something about Chase soothes me.

“Ally, I’ll always be your friend. I’ll never not want to be friends with you.”

“Promise?” I ask on a sniff, doing a fine job at controlling my emotions, if I do say so myself.

“Oh, baby girl.” In a very un-Chase-like move, he puts his arm around my shoulder and pulls me into his side. “Don’t be sad. I promise I’m not going anywhere.”

This is weird. Different. Unexpected. But I feel safe in his embrace, relaxed, so I pull my legs up on the couch beside me to make myself more comfortable. “Thanks.”

“Anytime, baby girl.”

“Why do you call me that?” I feel him tense, ever so slightly, but it’s there.

“I don’t know,” he answers carefully .

“You called me ‘baby girl’ that day in the kitchen when I was having an attack.” I feel him nod against my head. “I like it,” I admit quietly.

“I like it, too,” he says, then he kisses the top of my head, so softly I could have imagined it. But I am so aware of Chase’s presence that I would probably feel it if he blew me a kiss from one hundred yards away. I can’t stop the grin from forming on my face.

“So what do you want to do today?” he asks.

“This is nice,” I say, still smiling and still curled up against him.

He pulls me in a little closer. “Yeah, it is.” I’m glad I’m not the only one feeling it. Whatever it is.

“Sometimes I feel so alone,” I confess to him after a few minutes of heavenly silence. “Some days, I’m surrounded by people, but I still feel like I’m all by myself. Like I’m not in on the jokes or the stories. It makes me really sad.”

“I’m sorry you feel that way. I wish I could say ‘you’re not alone’ and have you believe it, but I know it’s probably going to be very hard for you to feel any differently as long as you don’t have your memories.”

I nod against his chest, a tear escaping my eye. It’s like he knows just what to say. “ You sure you haven’t had amnesia before?” I joke.

He laughs. “No, why?”

“Because that was a good answer. Or non-answer, rather.”

“I just don’t think it would do any good to coddle you or pretend that everything is going to be okay, when we all know it’s a very real possibility that you may never get your memory back. We just need to help you through it and not try to fix everything.”

I lean back and look at him questioningly. “You a psych major or something?”

He lets out a big laugh and pulls me back into his chest. “No. I might’ve read a couple books on amnesia since you’ve been diagnosed.”

My breath catches. He did that? For me? “Wow, Chase. I don’t know what to say.”

“I just want to be here for you. As your friend, or whatever.”

“Or whatever? What’s that?” I ask, hoping the ‘whatever’ is something more, but knowing it’s probably be too good to be true. I’m not sure if his silence is because he’s considering my question, or ignoring me.

“That’s yet to be defined,” he finally answers. And while his answer is as vague as the initial statement was, it gives me peace anyway.