Fairytales

Chapter 6- Chase

Chase stopped just inside the door, barely keeping himself from turning around and punching it. He wanted to hit himself, slam his head against the nearest brick wall a few times, something.

If he kept this up, he'd blurt everything to her before sundown.

Thankful for the alcove obscuring him from the view of the rest of the team, Chase ran a hand through his sweat damp hair.

What was he doing? He was stupid to think he could just say it, just tell her after so long of keeping it to himself.

Damia liked to joke that he'd hit the "puberty jack pot" sometime right after middle school, a comment always followed by a warning not to get a big head and, more often than not, a punch in the shoulder. He guessed nobody had ever told her, including himself now that he thought of it, that he hadn't been the only one.

It was no secret that Damia was far from the pariah she'd like to think of herself as. He'd watched guys look at her the same way she liked to say girls looked at him for years now, her complete disinterest the only thing keeping them at bay for so long. Or maybe he'd had some part in that.

But she'd always been just Damia to him. His friend. With his home life the way it was, she and her Aunt had become the closest thing he had to family now a days. Not a sister, but close to one. Just Damia.

He wasn't sure when he'd started to look at her differently, when he'd realized she wasn't just his best friend any more. Like a switch being flipped it was just...there, gnawing at him like it had been there forever.

Suddenly, seeing her name on his phone had become a cause for joy rather than just another message, and making her smile—a pretty big job on its own—had become a major goal of his days. Maybe it hadn't just started. Maybe it had always been there, hovering at the back of his mind and he'd just blinked one day and seen it, some voice in his head going Oh. Duh.

But he'd ignored it. Damia hadn't felt the same way which, now that he thought about it, had probably just made it worse. A part of him liked the challenge.

Chase was good with women, he wouldn't deny it. Talking to them, figuring out just what they wanted to hear, just how to smile at them. It was like a puzzle to him, a puzzle he was very good at. But Damia knew all his tricks, had seen them first hand, pointed them out and laughed at them. It left him strangely clueless, as if, for the first time in a while, he'd been thrown out of his element and, like this afternoon, he would make mistakes. Almost anyway.

Then there was the other thing...

But he'd decided to give that up. For good.

Lately, he thought he'd seen something change though, something in the way she acted around him, in the way she held his eyes just a little bit longer than she needed to, the expression there always fading, just a little bit, to something else before she looked away.

He made a frustrated sound under his breath and started walking.

He knew her better than anyone but, even after all these years, he wasn't sure he could read her. He wasn't sure he was willing to risk it.

Maybe it was a good thing Rebecca had stopped him before he'd opened his big mouth.

But then when she'd fallen...he clenched his fists as he made his way towards his locker. He shouldn't feel so damn protective of her. She'd probably chew him out herself if she had any idea. Things had just gotten so nuts. The things he'd started to suspect, to believe about their once cut and dry world...