Chase Wilson wants nothing more than to get out of Port Haven. After getting into too much trouble back home, what would be a vacation for most people is nothing more than a punishment for Chase - a summer spent in the godforsaken little beach town...
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AS THE WEEKS of summer began to come to a close, Catalyst's crowd became less tourists and more regulars; a steady flow of customers, but hardly as busy as it was during the height of summer.
I always looked forward to this portion of the summer. It was drastically more relaxing, while still making more money than we would during the winter months. Even James seemed to be in a lighter mood — he'd come in humming some fifties song beneath his breath every morning, prop his umbrella against the doorway and only give Chase a halfhearted glare when the boy would greet him with a sarcastic good morning, Mary Poppins.
The first few times, at least, until his patience wore up and he'd stick the boy on dishes for the entire day. Chase learned, eventually.
He learned a lot, really. And quickly, too. I almost envied his ability to adapt so easily — it seemed like within days he was a natural waiter at Catalyst, and within weeks even the tourists recognized and loved him.
I'd never had that ability with people. I was always too quiet, too reserved, too hidden in my own little world.
But something about Chase lured me out into the open. While vulnerability had terrified me before, I was slowly warming up to it, and Chase was slowly warming up to me.
It was two weeks after I'd told him about my dad that he'd finally told me why he was in Port Haven. We were sat on the curb outside the ice cream hut, an activity that quickly became a habit for us every few nights after work. It was a race against the heat of the setting sun to finish our cones before they melted (or, in Chase's case, spilled all over his clothes).
He'd seemed a bit distracted that day, occasionally zoning out and constantly checking his phone. I had wanted to ask, but I waited until we'd closed up Catalyst and settled down with our icecream to bring it up.
"So what's up with you?"
He didn't seem to understand my question at first. He was so preoccupied with holding his ice cream cone at just the right distance — far enough so it won't drop on it, close enough so he can eat it — that he hardly registered my words until I nudged against him.
"What'd you say?"
"I said, what's up with you? You've been...off today. You keep checking your phone and stuff."
"Oh." He took the last bite of his cone and waited to swallow before he continued. "Yeah, sorry. My friend Mason has been texting me."
I raised my eyebrows. He'd mentioned Mason before as one of his best friends back home, but he'd hardly elaborated past that. I'd never felt comfortable pushing him, either.
"Is everything alright?"
"Yeah, yeah, everything is good. Really good for him, actually," he mumbled the last part so much that I almost didn't catch it. But I did, and I quirked an eyebrow at him.
"That's not a good thing?"
"No, it is. It is. Just...complicated," he said. After wiping his hands on his napkin, he crumbled it up and tossed it into the garbage bin a few yards away. He turned to me and grinned. "See that?"
I laughed, slightly shaking my head as I finished my cone. "Should've played basketball instead of football."
I'd meant it as a joke, but it seemed to strike a nerve in him because his expression visibly fell.
"Chase? What did I say?" I adjusted my position on the concrete to face him, knees brushing against his.
"Nothing, sorry. I'm just gonna miss being on the team."
"After you graduate, you mean?" I said, but he shook his head.
"No, I mean...you remember how I said my parents sent me here because I got into some trouble back home?" He rested a hand on my knee and I nodded. "Yeah. I was suspended from the football team. We all were — my friends, I mean. Except Mason texted and said coach was letting him back if he kept his grades up, and..."
His voice trailed off and I slowly began to understand. He was happy for his friend, but upset he wasn't going to be with him.
"Can't he work out whatever deal he made with the coach for you, too?" I said, but Chase was quick to shake his head no.
"He tried, but...no. Mason's their star player, anyway. I was just a backup," he explained. "Besides, it was my fault we got suspended anyway."
I raised my eyebrows. This was news. I knew he'd gotten in trouble and I'd figured it had been with his friends, but he'd never implied it was entirely his fault before. "What do you mean?"
Chase dragged in a breath, running a hand through his hair. I could almost hear the gears whirring in his head as I looked at him, carefully picking his words before he said them.
"It was my idea to have this stupid party at my house while my parents were gone. I don't know who brought the alcohol, but there was a lot of it, and this one guy had too much and he ended up falling in the pool. He's fine now, but...we had to call for an ambulance and I couldn't just ditch like we normally would, you know? I mean, it was my house."
"Well, you did the right thing by calling for help," I said, tentatively.
"Yeah. Just wish I'd thought it through before I invited a bunch of people. Anyway, everyone left except Mason and Lucas, and we took the brunt of it even though somebody else had brought the beer. Suspended from school, football, even lost my scholarship to Stanford which I worked really fucking hard for."
I bit my bottom lip. Stanford — that was a difficult school to get into, let alone land a scholarship for. Suddenly, his bitterness all made sense now, and I felt an uncontrollable sense of sympathy for him. I mean, sure — they should've known better. But how could they have known this would happen?
"I'm sorry, Chase," I said. Truthfully, I wasn't quite sure how to comfort him. Our positions were switched now, from when I'd told him about my dad and he'd comforted me without truly knowing how. It was my turn now, so I reached forward and placed a hand over his. "There are other colleges, though. You're crazy smart, you'll find something."
He responded with a sober smile and a dismissive shrug. "It's whatever. Maybe it worked out, though, cause I got to meet you."
His words sent a wave of warmth through my body and I couldn't help but wonder if he really meant it. If it was really worth it to lose all of that, just to meet me in the end.
I realized, then, that I wanted to kiss him again. Some part of him must've sensed it, too, because his eyes jumped down to my lips.
