My Dirty Little Secret

Chapter Twenty

Chelsea's POV

"Make it quick," I said. "I broke plans for this."

I looked into her green eyes, always pleading to reconcile. She'd called me the night before, telling me we had to talk, that we had to work things out, that we could make things better. While I resented the last part, I could consent to the first two, so I'd agreed to meet her outside after school.

"Chelsea," she exhaled, not knowing where to start. "I miss you."

I looked down, then back at her. "I know."

"Don't you miss me?"

"Ashley, I did care about you. We had a good time. But it's over now."

"But it doesn't have to be," she argued.

"Yes it does."

"Why?"

"It's complicated," I said ambiguously.

"Give me one good reason."

"I'm with someone," I finally admitted. "And she means a lot to me."

"Already?" she said incredulously. We'd broken up months ago, but apparently that wasn't enough.

I nodded, stoically. 

"Who?"

"You don't know her," I lied. 

"How do you know her?"

"I met her at a party my cousin threw," I said casually, impressed by how quickly the lies were spilling out. I hadn't been expecting a full interrogation, and hadn't prepared for one.

"Is she pretty?" she asked, obviously checking out the competition.

I smiled, involuntarily. "She's beautiful." It was the first truth I'd told about her.

"I hope you're happy," she said after a while, quietly and bitterly, with only the slightest hint of honesty.

"I am," I said. "Thank you."

"If it doesn't work out, Chelsea," she began, but I wasn't listening. I nodded, knowing what she was going to say. 

"I have your number," I assured her. I wasn't so much using her as a rebound or a safety net for if things didn't work out with Brooke, as much as satiating her concerns in the easiest way. 

Not wanting to lead her on by staying, I began to walk away. I'd played a lot of games with her, but this time I didn't want her to chase after me.

"You're making a mistake," she called before I was gone, but I knew her and how dramatic she could be. I didn't bother answering. I knew that if Brooke was a mistake, she was one I was willing to make.

 ________

And make it I did. No matter how wrong I knew it was, no matter how much trouble I knew she could be in, how much I could suffer socially if anyone found out, I knew I was falling irrevocably hard for Brooke. Everything she did - the way she looked when she smiled, the way she sounded when she laughed, even the sound of her voice - worked to make me love her even more. 

I was sitting in her living room, thinking about how beautiful she was, just talking to her as we happened to hit upon the subject of soul mates.

"I don't think they exist," I was saying. "I think people meet and fall in love. I don't think anything makes them do it."

"That's what Kate always said," she said quietly, almost to herself.

"Who?" I asked, confused.

"My ex-girlfriend," she elaborated. It was like she'd just realized that it might be a weird thing to talk about. But I nodded, not wanting to make her think she'd made a mistake.

"Did you love her?" I asked after a while.

"Who?" she asked unnecessarily.

I smiled, using the name I'd just learned. "Kate."

"Oh," she realized. "Yeah," she admitted after a while. "I think I did."

"What changed?"

She didn't say anything for a while. Then, finally, she looked down at herself and said "We did."

I didn't say anything, waiting for her to elaborate.

"I'm not who I was when I met her," she went on, "And she's not who she was either. And I think relationships can work through change, but ours didn't. We weren't good for each other."

"At least you know what's good for you," I commented. "A lot of people don't."

"For a long time, I didn't," she said wisely, being the mature one teaching a lesson, though this one took place outside of school. "But now I do," she said, and smiling, added, "And it's right in front of me. So I'm taking it."

I smiled coyly. "Do I get a say in that?" I kidded.

"That depends," she said. "What do you say?"

I smiled and crawled across the couch to her, kissing her my answer as I wrapped myself in her arms. I don't know how long we stayed like that, close and comfortable in each other's presence. It wasn't until a while later that I decided to check the time. I'd come "to get my scarf," but stayed because she was impossible to leave. It was almost eight thirty and I'd told my parents I'd be home by eight, as it was one of the rare occasions when they were actually home on a Thursday night.

Reading my mind, she said, "I should get you home. I don't want to get you into trouble."

I smiled, seeing the irony in her words. "Likewise," I said, letting it speak for itself.

She rolled her eyes. "You won't," she assured me. "If anyone does, it'll be me."

Although it killed me, I got up to go, and she followed me to the door. She picked up my jacket and put it on for me. As she closed it around my breasts, she used it to pull me in to kiss her once again. Then she went for her keys.

"You don't have to drive me," I said. "It's not a far walk."

"Don't be ridiculous," she said. "It's not a far drive."

"But you shouldn't have to go out," I said.

She crossed her arms, sitting into one hip. "Chelsea, I'd be a really crappy date if I didn't drive you home."

I smiled. "You call this dating?"

"Well, it's certainly not my traditional style," she admitted. "But it's as close as we're getting until you graduate," she said matter-of-factly.

I laughed. "It's close enough," I said, taking her hand as we walked out together.