Page 105 of Thrown for a Loop
Inside, I grip the banister as we climb the narrow stairway, but I don’t feel so drunk anymore. The discomfort of showing my drab little apartment to Chase is sobering. “Just remember this was your idea,” I grumble as we reach the landing. I unlock the door and fling it open without ceremony. At least I made my mattress this morning.
We step inside, and I remove my coat, hanging it in the tiny coat closet.
Chase just stands there in the living room, glancing around. “So you’re a fan of minimalism. I never knew.”
“Oh, totally. If you’d ever seen my room in Filbert Hall, you’d understand. I had them take all the furniture out.”
He cups his chin thoughtfully. “Interesting that your bed is in the living room.”
“That’s because the bedroom isfreezing. Maybe it’s haunted. Aren’t cold spots a thing?”
Chase disappears into my empty bedroom for a moment. I hear a grunt and a thunk. Then he reappears. “Your window was open an inch or so at the top. I took the liberty of closing it.”
“Thank you,” I say stiffly. “I couldn’t get it to budge.”
He paces over to my mattress in the middle of the floor and sits at the foot of it. “All right. Let’s read Martina’s email. Let’s get this over with.”
Sitting down a polite distance away, I pull out my phone. Sure enough, the message is waiting in my inbox. I read aloud:
My dears, I hope you are both well. So interesting that you would end up skating together afterall this time. And to the world’s most depressing song. Do you believe in fate?
Fate. I can’t help it. My gaze jumps to Chase, at exactly the moment when his jumps to mine. Clearing my throat, I persevere.
I used to believe in fate, but then I stopped the moment I watched this video.
Chase hoots with laughter. “God, what did I tell you?”
“Just let me finish, okay?” Martina is never mean. She always has some wisdom to deliver. So I plunge ahead to the end. It’s a very short email.
Look, I don’t know why you two felt the need to email me seven thousand miles away when the diagnosis of the problem is plain to anyone with eyes. Your inability to skate together is because youno longer trust each otheras you once did. It’s that simple.
Let me know when you figure out how to fix it.
Kisses,
Martina
I throw my phone on the bed. “Really, Martina? That’s stupid.”
“Is it?” Chase asks.
“Yes! I trust you!”
“Are you sure about that?” He sends me a searching look from his end of my cheap mattress.
“Well…” My voice rises to an unnatural pitch. “Iwantto trust you. But youleft me and never called! Then I was panicked and alone.”
He turns his body to face me. “Zoe, I had reasons.”
My throat is practically closing up, but I still manage to argue the point. “Yousaythat, but I don’t hear any. I waswrecked, Chase. Just wrecked. After we had… that beautiful night together. And you said…” I gulp, because I know I sound hysterical. “It wasn’t right the way you left me.”
He takes the kind of deep breath that people need when they’re trying to control their anger. “I told you before—your mother forbade me to contact you.”
“So what?” Weirdly, this comes out as a sob. “You said you loved me! And I believed you! And then I never heard from you again. Not once.”
He reaches over and takes my hand, flattening it between his.
But I’m not done. “I loved you, Chase, as much as a sheltered eighteen-year-old girl is capable of loving anyone, which is a lot. You made skating fun again, and you made me laugh, and I would have gone to theends of the earthto see you again.”
