Of Hotshots and High School

Chapter 27

Chase's POV

I let out a breath I didn't realize I was holding, and shook my head to clear it. I sneaked a glance at Rory. She was looking at her toes, but I knew from experience that her face would be red. I would've been annoyed at my dad, but honestly that had all gone a lot better than I'd expected. He wasn't drunk, he actually spoke, and his eyes looked like he was actually here. Maybe things were getting better.

"Uh, sorry about that," I started, clasping my hands in front of me. I wasn't really sure what to do with them. Did they go in my pockets? Or by my side? Or on the counter? What was happening to me? I was always so sure or could at least pretend I was comfortable and confident, but somehow around Rory I kept turning into a bumbling, awkward mess. My eyes landed on the half-fixed sandwich on the counter. Food. Food is good. "Eat first talk later?"

Rory's head came up and she nodded, reaching for one of the glasses of chocolate milk. She downed half of it in a single gulp.

"You know, sometimes I wish I could go back to elementary school. They always had chocolate milk in the cafeterias then." Her face was halfway between a smile and a pout. "Have you ever read the Percy Jackson books? Chocolate milk would be my ambrosia."

"Well if you like it that much," I laughed, turning back to the fridge, "then I suppose the rest of this can be yours." And I plunked the half-full gallon next to her.

"Score!" She snatched it up and ran toward the couch. "You are not getting this back," she declared as she flopped down.

"Oh is that so?" I challenged, putting the last sandwich together.

"Yup. Team Rory wins again." She grinned over the top of the couch and I rolled my eyes, carrying the plates over.

"Well, Team Rory, I've gotta ask--did you actually want to talk strategy and drills, or was that just an excuse for my dad?" Rory froze, her arm halfway outstretched to the plate I was offering her. She coughed and grabbed it, holding it in her lap like it was in danger of escaping. I settled on the couch next to her and she looked up at me.

"I mean, it sounded like a good idea, right?"

"Mmhmm, great idea," I hurried to agree.

"Like, it worked," she gestured to the room around us in a way that I suppose was meant to convey that Jack had left satisfied. But I wasn't going to give her that.

"Ah, so my dad was right! You were just trying to get me alone," I leaned in and waggled my eyebrows at her, but only got two in before she shoved me away, her face burning scarlet.

"You Turnleaf boys should have your eyebrows shaved off."

"Aww come on!" I fake-whined. "That'd be like shaving the eyebrows off of the Mona Lisa. The world would protest your defacing of this great work of art," I gestured around my face as a laugh tore through Rory in a way that I hadn't heard before.

"Chase, do you even know what the Mona Lisa looks like?" Rory was having a hard time getting her words out between laughs. "She has basically zero eyebrows."

"Oh." And then I was laughing too. Deep laughs that threw me back onto the couch. The Mona Lisa had no eyebrows? It was ridiculous that out of all the famous artwork I could've chosen, I'd mentioned the one that had no eyebrows. So dumb. How long had it been since I'd laughed like this? I turned my head toward Rory, feeling her body bounce back and forth on the couch as she laughed. I hadn't felt like this in this house since before Dad's tour, when Mom and Dad were still together. It'd been a long time.

"Dad took a tour in Afghanistan after Mom left us." I spilled out. Rory stilled and she looked up at me, serious. "He only did six months, but when he came back it wasn't just his leg that was broken. The PTSD was pretty bad." Memories flooded into my head of broken glass and bruises. Screaming. Silence. Trips to the Emergency--

"Chase." Rory's voice and hand grounded me in the present. I tightened my grip.

"He was supposed to see a therapist but that only lasted two months before he just stopped going. After that he started disappearing. The first time it was just for a few days, then longer and longer." I didn't know why I was going over this again with Rory until my next words spilled out: "What should I do? Seven weeks is a really long time to not have a dad." And then I was crying. I hated crying.

"Where's your mom?"

"California." By the way I said it I was pretty sure Rory could tell that mom hadn't visited much since she'd left.

"My Dad's there, too."

"Do you miss him?"

"Sometimes. I suppose other times I more just hate him for leaving me and having this whole other life without me. He's engaged, you know."

"Really?"

"Yeah. He asked me to be the 'best daughter' at their wedding. I was pretty furious about it at the time, but now I don't really know."

I nodded. I could understand the complicated emotions around parents who you wanted more from.

"Cause he's still your dad?" I offered. Rory looked a little wistful for a minute before bobbing her head in agreement.

"Yeah. He's still my dad." She let out a sigh before I could see her gather herself back to the present. "If I had all the answers for you or knew what you should do then I wouldn't be able to sympathize with you." She put a hand on my arm and I couldn't pull my eyes away from it. Her hands weren't the dainty, perfectly moisturized and polished hands of Adelaide. Rory's nails were bare, a little uneven, and I could see a layer of rough, dry skin on two of her knuckles. The hand gave me a squeeze. "Don't be too hard on yourself. Both your parents are lucky to have you. And if you ever are feeling too down then something you can do is give me a call. I'm happy to listen."

When she pulled her hand away and turned to her sandwich I immediately felt a loss of warmth.

"Oh my goodness," Rory mumbled through a mouthful of sandwich. "Is that what I think it is?" She bounded off the couch and toward the TV stand, crouching to look through the video games stored there. "Vintage Smash Bros," She said, holding it up and turning toward me. "Can you play?"

I hadn't played any Smash Bros in years. I had a love-hate relationship with the game, but if Rory wanted to play then I was down.

"I'm not too good, but I can play." I replied. Rory's eyes sparkled.

"This is the best game ever. Or maybe the worst. But I guess that's what makes it great," she paused for breath and pushed it into the game console. "My dad taught me how to play. We used to play together all the time before he left, always teaming up to kick the AI's butts. Now, I play whenever I'm mad at him and feel a need to smash things. It's extremely cathartic."  She looked back at me then, and I wasn't too sure if she wanted to play for her benefit or for mine.

"Cathartic sounds good," I smiled.

"Shall we hash it out one more time then, Team Rory vs Team Chase?" She offered me a controller. I took it, but caught her hand in the process. I didn't let go. The look in Rory's eyes shifted from playful to something a little more serious.

"Maybe this time it can be Team Rory and Chase vs everyone else?" I wasn't sure exactly what prompted that, and I wasn't sure if I was still talking about the video game. Rory's breath caught as I held her gaze.

"I'd like that," she admitted softly. I felt a smile work its way onto my face. I was still holding her hand.

I'd like that, too.