Chasing Sunsets

34

"She's not?" I asked. My words came out like a breath, soft and gentle.

"No, Indie," Chase's voice was just like mine. "She's not. I don't have any feelings for Poppy."

"Oh," I said the singular word, my mind surprisingly blank as it tried to figure out what to say. Like Chase had simply stilled my thoughts. My heart was crawling into my throat at his words, in the best way possible.

"I'm sorry for making you feel like I was mad at you. I'm not, and I could never be mad at you," Chase continued on, my stomach was filling with hope. "I just, man, Indie..."

"What? You can tell me," I urged him to tell me what was on his mind.

"I just get so fucking nervous around you," Chase finally muttered. "You make me second guess everything. Everything I do, everything I say."

I took a breath, staring up at the ceiling. I hadn't expected him to say that.

"Why would you be nervous around me?" I asked him. "I've been in your room before, we've slept in the same bed before."

"And both of those times, I was nervous. I don't think you realize... you must not know how perfect I think you are, Indie," Chase took my breath away with his words.

"You think I'm perfect?" I repeated his words, a small smile forming on my lips.

"I think you're everything. You're everything. You're sweet, you're smart, you're beautiful," Chase's voice had dropped a tone lower as he spoke. "Everything."

I opened my mouth, but no words came. Not only was I breathless, I was speechless. I tried to force my mind to work, to find something to say.

"I think you're everything, too," I finally found the words.

Chase didn't answer, and for a second we were both frozen in time. We were both flat on our backs, staring up at the the ceiling through the semi-darkness. The sides of our bodies were pressed together, and I knew he could feel the way my chest was rising and falling just like I could feel the way his was.

But, he broke the freeze first.

I felt his arm move, and I wasn't sure where he was moving it to. Until, just like in the car earlier, he placed in on the top of my thigh. Though, unlike in the car, his touch wasn't light. His fingers dug into my flesh, not enough to hurt, just enough to light me on fire.

His fingers didn't stay in one place; they crept across my skin, slowly. Like he was thinking of every movement before he did it. They moved across my thigh, rubbing the exposed skin for just a second before they moved to the next inch. Until finally, his fingers reached their destination on my inner thigh.

Chase's upper body rose off the bed, propping his body upwards with his elbow. I was too stunned to move, the butterflies in my stomach almost paralyzing me. I couldn't predict his next move.

He moved his other hand quickly, it gently landed on the side of my face. It moved down to my chin, his thumb and his pointer finger grasping it. His fingers grazed against my skin, and combined with the touch of his other hand on my thigh, my breaths were becoming heavier.

I could barely see Chase through the darkness of his room. I could only make out the outline of his body. I knew he could see me, however, because I could feel the intensity of his eyes.

It's like they left a trace as he roamed them over me, as if he was reading my skin like it was poetry.

"Indie," he said, breaking the silence. I'm not sure how long it had been since his hand first landed on my body. It could have been either minutes or seconds.