FIRSTS Stories: The Boys Tell All

Chase Redgrave

You know what sucks? When your girlfriend wants you to say I love you so badly and even though maybe you do, the words just aren't there. Or maybe you don't want to say them because those three stupid words tend to ruin everything. Trust me, I know from experience.

"Chase," Jade says, tucking her forehead into my chest. "Chase, isn't this romantic? What are you feeling right now?"

We're beside a fountain. There are like, a million stars in the sky. There's an actual live violinist playing inside and it kind of sounds like he's playing just for us. There's nobody around. Jade and I have been together for two months, which is shit or get off the pot time.

As you can tell, I'm kind of screwed. She's begging for it. I've said everything else to her. You're great. I really like you. You're a cool chick. I think we're good together. But those three words she really wants to hear? I know better than to let them screw with me.

"I'm feeling pretty strongly that you'd look even better out of that dress," I whisper in her ear.

She sighs and stiffens under my arms. I can tell she's pissed, even though it was a compliment. She really does look smoking hot. But it's not like I'm going to say the other thing. Are you kidding me?

The first time I said it, I was six years old. It was this chick named Susie on the playground who always wore pink and stood at the top of the slide and called it her castle. The words just kind of came up in my throat, kind of like that feeling when you know you're about to puke. But it would have been better if I puked, because something a lot worse than vomit came out.

"I l-l-l-l-o-v..."

The Dreaded Stutter. Then, the laughter, the name-calling. Ch-Ch-Ch-Chase.

It always happened when I was nervous. I'd choke on one word and it would just keep repeating itself like one of my dad's records when the needle gets stuck. And that day, I choked on the word love. Fast-forward until now and it's still stuck there in my throat, not going up or down.

I've loved many girls over the years. Yeah, I'm only seventeen, but I don't believe that whole "you don't know what love is" crap that old people try to feed you. I loved Susie and I loved Anabel after her, then Tina in the eighth grade and Parker in the ninth grade and this really hot girl named Destiny at summer camp. I loved them all, but I never said it. Because of The Dreaded Stutter. Because ten years of speech therapy isn't exactly the kind of thing that makes you irresistible to girls.

Then along came Jade. I met her at my buddy Trevor's pool party a few months ago—it was basically an instant boner when she came out of the pool in this tiny bathing suit that made my mind go to some seriously dirty places. She asked me if I had a cigarette. I told her she didn't need to smoke, because she was already smoking hot.

"You're funny," she said.

"I'm suave," I said, ignoring the way my heart was going crazy. "There's a difference."

"No, you're funny," she said. "Take it as a compliment."

I didn't. Because funny is all those kids laughing at Ch-Ch-Ch-Chase. Funny is Susie on the playground, twirling around in her stupid pink skirt. I'm not some laughingstock. And being suave has been the cure-all. The remedy to my weakness.

"You don't want to be here, do you, Chase?" Jade says, pulling away. Shit. It's a terrible sign when they pull away. No good things can come from that.

"Of course I do," I say. God. When did it get so hot out? When did this tie get so tight? When did the violin music get so sad? It's not like we're on the goddamned Titanic.