Emancipating Andie (21 page)

There was a pause. “Are you sure?”

“Definitely,” she said.

“Do you want me to come by and check on you later?”

“No, I think I’m just gonna go to bed. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Chase took his shot and missed, spurring a chorus of insults from Matt, none of which registered. He was straining to hear her voice again.

“Bye, guys,” she said, and Chase finally turned toward her.

“Andie, you’re leaving?” Tyler asked.

“Yeah, I have a headache, and I have to be at the restaurant early tomorrow anyway.”

“Aw, well, feel better hon,” Matt said, leaning over to kiss her cheek, and Chase longed for that indifference, for the ability to be so cavalier about touching her.

She blew a kiss to Tyler before she turned to Chase. “Bye, Chase,” she said with a forced nonchalance that was blatantly transparent to him.

He held up his hand. “Good night. Feel better.”

She turned, giving Colin a kiss and bringing her purse up to her shoulder, and he watched her walk out the door, his eyes not moving until it swung closed and concealed her from his sight.

“Alright, boys’ night out!” Tyler called, and Matt laughed.

“Dude, are you really gonna quote
Billy Madison
all night?”

Chase laughed, because he knew he was supposed to, but his mind was a million miles away from moronic movie quotes. Why did she leave? Was she really not feeling well? Or had she been looking for an escape as desperately as he had?

“Alright, rack ‘em again,” Matt called over his shoulder as he walked toward the bar to buy another round. “McGuire, get your head out of your ass, or you’ll be deemed chalk boy.”

Chase played another game, his motions listless and his thoughts scattered. He didn’t want to be out anymore. This wasn’t working. Nothing was going to work. He just needed time to get over this shit, and no amount of forced apathy was going to get him there any faster.

He managed to keep his head in the game long enough to win it for him and Matt, and as they started to rack them again, Chase placed his cue back on the wall.

“Alright, I’m gonna head out.”

“Are you serious? It’s only ten-thirty.”

“I know, but I got up early this morning. I’m fucking beat.”

“Come on, don’t be a pussy,” Tyler said.

“Shut up and let him go. I don’t want to buy this asshole any more drinks,” Matt chimed in, and Chase smiled and shook his head.

“Alright man,” Colin said. “Well, it was good to see you. Give me a call. We’ll catch a game together next week.”

Chase nodded, taking down the last of his beer, and as he turned and walked toward the door, he saw movement in his peripheral vision. He glanced over his shoulder to see the redhead from the bar approaching him.

Shit.

He had forgotten all about her, and now he slowed, even though he had no desire to stay in that bar for another minute.

“Hi,” she said, her voice sweetly shy.

“Hey,” Chase said, thrusting his hands in his pockets.

“I just wanted to thank you again,” she said. “I’m Jenna,” she added, holding out her hand.

“Chase,” he said, reaching for it.

She blushed again and looked down, holding onto his hand a few seconds longer than what would be appropriate for a handshake.

“So, Chase, are you leaving?”

“Um…actually, yeah,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck and looking at the door.

“Can I walk you out?”

Chase looked at her for a second before he nodded, and as the two of them turned toward the door, he heard a long whistle, followed by Colin’s voice. “Tired my ass, McGuire!” he called, and the laughter of the three men erupted behind him.

As soon as they were outside, Chase turned to her. “I’m sorry about that,” he said, gesturing with his head back toward the bar.

She waved her hand, dismissing them.

“Alright, so…” Chase trailed off. He felt sorry that he had bothered this girl, that he had managed to get her attention. She seemed sweet, but all he wanted at that moment was to be home.

Alone.

“So,” she said, bouncing slightly on her toes and wringing her hands in front of her. “Do you want to maybe go somewhere? Get some coffee or something?”

Asshole
, Chase thought.
I’m the world’s biggest asshole.

“Listen, Jenna,” he said, running his hand down his face. “I think you’re really beautiful.” She smiled, and he cringed internally. “But…I’m sorry…I gotta go.”

Her face dropped slightly, her eyes confused.

He couldn’t do it. Sleeping with this girl wasn’t going to help him get over anything; he had already attempted that ploy, and if anything, it just made him feel worse. Plus, he knew she didn’t deserve that. They had barely spoken a few words, but Chase could already tell that this wasn’t the type of girl you screwed on a rebound. He knew he was doing the right thing.

So then why did he feel like such a piece of shit?

“I’m sorry,” he said again, needing to get away from that look in her eyes. “I just…I hope you have a good night,” he added, walking quickly past her and fumbling with his keys as he approached his car.

He pulled out of the parking lot, refusing to look in the rearview mirror for fear that he’d see her still standing there, that confused look on her face.

It reminded him of the way he had left Andie the night before.

Jesus, how many times was he going to do this? When had he become such a prick?

She’ll get over it
, Chase thought, making a turn without even bothering to use his signal.
She doesn’t even know who you are. It’s not like she cared about you
.

And while that helped alleviate his remorse over screwing with Jenna tonight, it did nothing to make him feel better about what he’d done to Andie.

He wanted to make it right.

Before he even consciously made the decision, he sped past the entrance to the highway that would take him home, continuing on straight.

He felt his foot growing heavy on the gas, and it seemed the closer he got to his destination, the more urgent his need became.

A few minutes later, he pulled his car haphazardly into an open space and hopped out, walking quickly up the pathway to her building. By the time he got to the stairs, he was jogging. He took them two at a time and approached her door, knocking immediately.

And in the silence that followed, he suddenly began to question his decision.

What if she left tonight because she didn’t want to see him? What if she slammed the door in his face? What if Colin found out he had been there?

Colin.

And suddenly, without warning, the thought of his friend brought a memory rushing back to Chase, as smoothly and easily as if Chase had just called his name and Colin had turned in his direction.

It was Chase and Colin’s senior year, and the first time in four years their school’s soccer team had made it to sectionals. It seemed like the entire town was at that game. Chase could still hear the screams, still feel the ground vibrating as the crowd stamped wildly in the stands, still feel the adrenalin surging through his veins. He hadn’t yet come down from the high of it, even as they were driving home, and every now and then, Colin would pump his fist out the driver’s side window while shouting something celebratory. Chase would follow suit, laughing the entire time; he couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt this good, this…
alive
.

“This party tonight is gonna kick ass,” Colin said through a grin.

Chase nodded his agreement, playing a wild drum solo on the dashboard along with the radio. Two cars passed them then, covered in red and black streamers with “Go Devils” painted on the windows, their horns blasting as the passengers waved and shouted unintelligibly to Chase and Colin. They shouted back, laying on their horn and laughing.

“This is so weird,” Chase said as Colin turned into the McGuire’s driveway and cut the engine. “I feel like a celebrity.”

“Tonight, my friend, you are,” he said, playfully punching his arm before he exited the car. Chase hopped out, grabbing his soccer bag and walking quickly up the drive with Colin behind him.

“I’m starving. Can we eat something?” Colin asked.

“Yeah, let’s grab something quick and then we can shower and head out,” Chase said as he opened the front door and turned into his expansive kitchen, looking over his shoulder at Colin. “I just want to get to this party.”

He turned back around and stopped short for only a second before he continued on into the kitchen, his eyes now downcast. “Dad,” he said, his voice lacking the inflection of surprise even though he had not expected to see his father there.

As he heard the sound of Colin coming into the room behind him, Chase couldn’t decide if he was more annoyed at having to deal with his father when he was trying to enjoy his good mood, or more embarrassed that his father was sitting in the kitchen reading the paper instead of at the biggest game of his high school career.

“Hey, Mr. McGuire,” Colin said from behind Chase, a hint of surprise in his voice. “I thought you had to work.”

Chase’s father did not lift his eyes from the newspaper in front of him, but rather he brought the paper up a bit higher, shielding part of his face. “I did. It was paperwork. I got it done in the home office.”

“Oh. Well, you should have come to the game,” Colin said, still riding his own high. “It was
unbelievable
!”

The silence that followed Colin’s enthusiastic voice seemed to pull the air out of the enormous kitchen, and his smile slowly faded as he glanced toward Chase.

Chase immediately turned away, giving undue attention to unpacking his soccer bag and tossing the dirty clothes into the adjacent laundry room, his hands fumbling with the simple task as he tried to make it quick. He just wanted to get out of there. They could get something to eat on the way to the party.

“It was amazing, Mr. McGuire,” Colin added, trying again, and Chase closed his eyes and exhaled softly. Stop, he thought to himself.
Please, just stop.

“We were down two to nothing at the half, and then we scored with about five minutes to go, and then with six seconds left to the game, Chase scored the tying goal,” Colin said, slapping his hand on the counter, the excitement taking over his voice again. “But that’s not even the best part! The best part is, this kid then gets the ball and scores
again
like fifteen seconds into sudden death! You should have heard the crowd.”

Chase heard the rustling of a newspaper, his father’s exaggerated sigh.

“It wasn’t that big of a deal,” Chase said dully, his back to the kitchen as he quickly zipped up his soccer bag.

Colin whirled on him. “Dude, are you kidding me?” he asked, his eyebrows nearly in his hairline.

“For once, I’m inclined to agree with my son,” Chase’s father said.

The room fell silent again, and Chase finally stood and turned, catching sight of Colin’s uneasy expression before his eyes landed on his father.

“I keep telling you, Chase,” his father said, his voice detached and his eyes still on his paper. “Do you really think
soccer
is what’s going to make you a great man? If you spent half the time and effort you put into that ridiculous game on something that was worthwhile, you might have been able to make a name for yourself at that school.”

Chase dropped his eyes before he turned away, his jaw flexing as he reached for the handle of the fridge, just to be doing something. He wasn’t even hungry anymore.

Did his father have to do this now? On the tail end of his victory?

Right in front of his friend?

“We have cold cuts,” Chase said to Colin, his voice straining with the effort to remain upbeat. “You want a sandwich?”

But Colin wasn’t listening; his eyes were focused on the man sitting at the island counter. “Um, with all due respect, Mr. McGuire, Chase’s name
is
known,” Colin said, and Chase knew his friend well enough to detect the irascibility behind the politeness in his voice.

Chase pulled his brow together, trying to focus on the food in the fridge instead of the conversation behind him. He knew Colin was trying to defend him, but to Chase, it was like watching a puppy playing on the side of a highway. He knew how it would end, and he didn’t want to watch.

“And not just for soccer,” Colin added. “I mean, he’s graduating in the top five percent of our class.” Colin’s eyes were wide, as if he couldn’t comprehend having to explain the merits of such a thing, especially to Chase’s father.

The newspaper rustled again, and Chase turned to see his father staring at Colin over the top if it.

“But not at the top, right?”

Chase closed his eyes and shook his head, wishing that Colin would just realize he couldn’t win, wishing that his dad would get fed up with the conversation and leave.

Wishing that he hadn’t come home in the first place.

“I’m sorry?” Colin asked, clearly unnerved.

“He’s graduating in the top five percent, but not at the top. There were kids above him, correct?” his father asked, his eyes still on Colin and his voice even.

Silence.

“That’s my point,” he said, folding his newspaper. “He could have done better. He
should
have done better.”

Chase closed the fridge and turned then, knowing he had to save his friend from what he had inadvertently started. Colin’s eyes were downcast, and Chase was relieved that he didn’t have to look him in the eyes.

“You want the shower first?” Chase asked, not even trying to maintain his cheerful façade now.

But before Colin could answer, Mr. McGuire turned toward Chase for the first time since they’d entered the kitchen. “A little focus is all I ask from you,” he said with a reproachful sigh. “I know you’re not worthless. I wish you’d stop acting like it.” And with that he stood and walked out of the kitchen without a backward glance.

It was quiet for a few seconds, the only sound being his father’s heavy footsteps fading down the hall, until Chase cleared his throat softly. “So…you want a sandwich?” he asked, turning back toward the fridge, his forced indifference pathetically transparent, even to him.