Emancipating Andie (6 page)

“Hey, sorry I took so long,” he said, sliding back into the car and turning to put the camera in the backseat.

“No, it’s fine,” Andie said, watching him stretch over the seat as she started the car. She found herself looking around as they pulled back onto the road, still wondering what he saw as a photographic opportunity at this place. “So, did you get any good shots?”

Chase shrugged. “Maybe,” he said, leaning his arm on the open window and extending his hand outside, allowing it to undulate as he played with the wind. “I never know if I’ve gotten anything good until a few days later. I have to remove myself from the situation first.”

“Remove yourself from the situation?”

“Yeah. Right now I’m still seeing those things the way I saw them with my eyes, and those images get all mixed up with the pictures when I look at them.”

Andie pulled her brow together, and she heard him chuckle softly next to her.

“It’s hard to explain. It’s just easier for me to evaluate something when I’m looking at it objectively. Right now, it’s too soon for me to do that.”

Andie nodded. “No, I think I get it,” she said, and he smiled over at her before turning his attention back to his hand, riding the breeze outside like a roller coaster.

She did understand what he meant; she felt that way sometimes about her writing. There were times when she just had to walk away, to leave it for a few hours, or sometimes a few days, before she could go back to it and see if it were any good. When she was in the midst of it, she was too close to it to make any kind of rational decision.

Andie hit the button on the steering wheel to turn on the radio, and they fell back into one of their stretches of silence, each lost in their own thoughts. Every now and then, she would glance over, watching his hand out the window rise and fall on the wind as it kept tune to the music, and she couldn’t help but smile at the childlike gesture.

As she turned her eyes back to the road, a woman standing on the shoulder caught her attention. She looked to be somewhere in her thirties, dressed in jeans and a T-shirt. Her hair was somewhat disheveled, pulled back in a sloppy ponytail, and as she heard Andie’s car approaching, she turned quickly and extended her arm, her thumb up in the air and a hopeful expression in her eyes.

As Andie sped past her, she lifted her eyes to the rearview, watching the woman drop her arm back to her side and shove her hands in her pockets as she continued walking up the side of the highway.

Andie chewed on her lower lip, looking back to the rearview every few seconds, watching the woman get smaller and smaller until she finally disappeared.

“You know what I think is really sad?” she said.

Chase turned his head to look at her.

“That we live in a world where you have to be afraid to help people.”

He barked a short laugh. “Where did that come from?”

“That woman,” Andie said, looking in her rearview even though she knew she wouldn’t be able to see her anymore. “The one who was hitchhiking. I mean, you’d have to be crazy to stop and pick up a hitchhiker. That’s just asking for trouble. But at the same time, that poor lady could be out there for hours. And what if she’s just a normal person, not a thief or a killer, just someone who needs help? No one in his right mind would stop to pick her up. And if someone
did
stop, then she would have to be concerned for her
own
safety, because what kind of lunatic would let a complete stranger who could very well be crazy into his car? How could she be sure he wouldn’t pick her up just to take her into the woods somewhere and kill her? So not only do we have to be afraid to help people, but we also have to be afraid of people who want to help
us
. I just think that’s really sad.”

She took a small breath, looking over at him. His eyebrows were raised ever so slightly. “Wow,” he said, a smile curving his lips, “that was quite a rant.”

She bit her lip and shrugged. “But…do you know what I mean?” she asked softly, feeling a little embarrassed that she had just vented so openly.

His smile grew a bit more pronounced as he turned in his seat to face her. “You know something? I’ve never met anyone who lives as cautiously as you do. So
by the book,
” he said, using finger quotes. “Do you always play by the rules?”

She pressed her lips together, turning back toward the road as the familiar irritation crept its way up her spine. She knew it was too good to be true, the temporary ceasefire that had miraculously developed between them this afternoon.

Chase turned forward in his seat, clasping his hands behind his head. “You know what
I
think is sad?”

Andie kept her mouth closed, afraid of what he would say next. She didn’t want to go back to the way things were that morning. In fact, she just wished she hadn’t said anything at all.

“I think it’s sad that we’ll never know her,” Chase said.

She glanced over at him suspiciously.

“Think of how many people there are in the world that you’ll never know. Like that guy right there,” he said, nodding toward the car that whizzed by them. “What’s that guy’s name? Where’s he going? Is he happy with his life? Did he want Bella to end up with Edward or Jacob?”

Andie’s lips twitched as Chase brought one of his hands down from behind his head. “Or how about the guy you bought the pretzels from,” he said, gesturing toward the bag on Andie’s lap. “That’s the last you’ll ever see of that guy in your life. That was the sole experience you were meant to have with that man. Your paths will never cross again. And he could be the coolest guy in the world,” Chase added, holding his hands up in shrug, “but you’ll never know him.”

Andie sat quietly, unsure of whether or not this was something he actually thought about, or if he was just trying his hand at a nonsensical rant to poke fun at her.

“Or,” Chase sighed, interrupting her thoughts, “maybe he’s the world’s biggest douchebag, in which case you’re better off.”

A laugh bubbled out of Andie’s throat, and she pressed her fingers to her lips to stifle it as she looked over at him. A slow grin spread over his face, and she smiled as she brought her hand back to the wheel and shook her head.

Andie saw him shift to face her out of the corner of her eye. “Here, you know what? Let’s clear both our consciences. That lady, that hitchhiker…she’s an aspiring actress.”

“How do you know that?” she asked, surprised.

He shook his head. “Roll with me. She’s an aspiring actress. She was on her way to an audition, and her car crapped out on her.”

Andie looked at him for a second before she realized what he wanted her to do. “Okay,” she said before she brought her eyes back to the road. “Um…she works as a waitress to support herself, and if she doesn’t get this part, she won’t have the money to get her car fixed.”

Chase nodded sadly, as if they were speaking about someone they knew. “Sucks,” he said. “And she practiced for that role for weeks. It was perfect for her.”

“But she can still get there,” Andie added hopefully. “She can call a cab.”

“Hmm, she could,” Chase said, “if her cell phone was getting a signal. Which it isn’t.”

“Well then, she just has to keep walking until she gets service.”

“Which is exactly what she’s doing when a car pulls up behind her.”

Andie looked at Chase, her expression uneasy, and he nodded. “Yep. The car pulls up behind her, and the guy inside wants to help. So she has to make a choice: she can say no and keep walking, and hope she’ll get service soon so she can call that cab, or she can let this guy help her.”

Andie chewed anxiously on her lip. “Yeah, but you know what?” she finally said. “The guy has two little girls in the car. Twins. And they’re calling him Uncle Bobby. And one of them is asking him why they’re stopping because they were supposed to get ice-cream cones.” Andie paused before she glanced at Chase. “Killers don’t take their nieces to get ice-cream cones.”

He shook his head and laughed. “Okay, so I take it she’s gonna let Uncle Not-a-Killer Bobby help her?”

Andie nodded. “Yep. Turns out they have a lot in common. He knows where her audition is.”

“Perfect,” Chase said. “So what happens?”

“Well, he takes her to the audition. They have a good talk on the way. And he even drives her home afterward.”

“Where’s her car?”

“Oh, it was towed a while back,” Andie said with a wave of her hand, and Chase smiled.

“Does she get the part?”

“She does,” Andie said. “She got there just in time. And she calls Uncle Bobby to thank him for helping her that day, and he invites her out to celebrate.”

Chase lifted his eyebrows. “He does? Wow, props to Uncle Bobby.”

Andie laughed softly.

“And you know what happened after that, don’t you?” he asked.

She nodded. “They lived happily ever after.”

“No, they had crazy monkey sex in every room of her apartment.”

Andie whirled around, smacking him in the chest, and he flinched, rubbing the spot she hit and laughing to himself.

“God,” she said.

“Okay, okay, they lived happily ever after.
After
the monkey sex.”

Andie stifled a laugh, shaking her head.

“See?” Chase said. “Everything worked out for her the way it should have. And all because we didn’t stop to help her.”

She allowed herself to smile then, looking over at him. “Thank you,” she said softly.

He stared at her for a second before he cleared his throat.

“You’re welcome,” he said quietly, turning to look out the passenger window again.

.

C
HAPTER
F
OUR

I
t was uncomfortable again.

After the hour or so that morning they had spent at each other’s throats, somehow he and Andie had fallen into a better place. In fact, there were some moments when things seemed just fine between them. Easy, even. Then suddenly, for one reason or another, things would turn awkward, and they’d both wait it out until the air cleared and they could start over. It seemed to be a “two steps forward, one step back” kind of deal, and he wasn’t sure why.

Actually, that wasn’t true. He knew perfectly well why it was like that between them; despite the fact that Andie had loosened up a bit since that morning, she was still cautious and uptight by nature, and whenever Chase said something she thought was mocking her, she would pull back.

But she hadn’t been the one who pulled back this time.

No, this time it had been Chase who had retreated, after they had played that little storytelling game with the hitchhiker. The way she had smiled at him, the way she said thank you, did something funny to the pit of his stomach. He didn’t like it.

Actually, he
did
like it. And therein was the problem.

So Chase had removed himself for a bit so he could shake it off, and they had been in their little awkward bubble ever since. In the car, it wasn’t as noticeable. They could listen to the radio or watch the scenery.

But sitting across from each other in a diner, waiting for their food, the discomfort was palpable and borderline unbearable.

Time to start over
, he thought.

Chase tore a tiny piece off the corner of his napkin and rolled it between his thumb and forefinger until it was a perfect little ball. Then he reached over to the side of the table and grabbed one of the empty coffee creamers, placing it in the center of the table. He glanced up at Andie before he took aim, tossing the paper ball toward the cup.

It landed perfectly inside the empty creamer.

“Ha!” Chase said. “Now you have to tell me a favorite.”

“Huh?”

“When I was little, my mom used to play this game with me all the time while we were waiting for our food. You make the shot, you get to ask the other person one of their favorites.”

Andie looked at him, a hint of confusion behind her eyes. “Okay?”

Chase smiled. “So, what’s your favorite…movie?”

She took a breath, glancing toward the kitchen before she looked back to Chase. “Favorite movie?” she said distractedly. “I guess
Gone With the Wind
.”

“Cliché,” he sighed, and Andie huffed heavily.

“Do you always have to make a comment?” she said. “You do understand the concept behind playing a game, right? It’s supposed to be fun.”

“I know. I’m having a great time.”

Andie rolled her eyes as he laughed to himself, centering the creamer once again.

“Your turn,” he said.

She stared at him, unmoving, and he smiled. “Come on. You can make fun of my answer if it will make you feel better.”

“I don’t get my kicks out of making other people feel stupid,” she said, but she reached over and pulled a tiny piece off her napkin before balling it up.

Chase watched her line up the shot, squinting one eye as she took aim, and he bit the corner of his lip to stop himself from laughing.

Andie sighed heavily, dropping her hand to the table. “This is an impossible shot.”

“No it’s not. I just made it.”

“Yeah, but you’ve been playing this game your whole life.”

Chase laughed out loud. “I played it a handful of times when I was a kid! You’re making it sound like I was a contender in the Napkin Ball Olympics.”