Page 36 of Moonshot

“And?”

“And what?” I exploded. “I haven’t done anything wrong!” But I had. Even if it was fresh off the heels of seeing him with those girls. Even if I was mad, and we weren’t exclusive, it had all been wrong. From the minute I stepped into his room, it’d been wrong.

“Have you kissed him?”

I flushed. I could literally feel the heat on my cheeks and watched his face pale, his features tighten. “You have,” he said, the words carefully controlled.

“I’ve known him a long time,” I said. “We’ve kissed before. It’s not a big deal.” Now was the moment I should tell him the truth. I knew that, yet it seemed the stupidest decision ever.

“Just kissed.”

“No.” The word was a rough exhale from my lips, and he closed his eyes in response, his fist flexing and unflexing, the motion one of bare control. I was almost afraid to continue, this side of Chase one I’d never seen. “I slept with him.” My mind begged, silently, for him not to ask questions, for him to take the information and leave, for this to be a brief fight that would continue later. Instead, he asked the one question I hoped he wouldn’t.

“When?”

I looked down at my shoes, my weight heavy against the sink, my voice small when it came. “The night we first … when I saw you with those girls in your room.” I lifted my head. “When you had left me alone in the room and went to do drugs.” The final sentence had fight in it, and his eyes flared.

“So ... you told me no. You stopped me. And then you went to him? And let him do that?”

“We weren’t … us … then. We weren’t anything then.” I sobbed the words, my heart breaking as he looked at me in a way I’d never seen, like I wasn’t the person he loved, like we weren’t in love.

“I loved you…” He stepped back from me, his voice gruff, cracking on the syllables. “I loved you from the minute I saw you. I thought…” He brought his hands to his head and turned away from me. “I thought it was the same for you.”

I did. It was. I never had a chance to respond. He pushed on the door, and, before I could get a word out, was gone. I sagged against the sink in the empty room, my hands gripping the edge of cold marble. Unable to control myself, I burst into tears.

I should have chased him. I shouldn’t have worried about anyone seeing, or anyone hearing, and just run after him. Tugged on his arm and told him everything that I felt. How much I regretted that night with Tobey. How little it had meant to me. Instead, I let him go and cried, alone in that bathroom stall.

I should have chased him, but I didn’t know. I didn’t know that it would be the last time I would see him.

56

Each step away from her was agony and relief, all at the same time. His chest tight, he rubbed at it, unsure if it was physical symptoms or just heartache. He didn’t understand how she could do it. He’d have sworn, having her in his bed, that she was a virgin. From her reactions, her hesitancy. He’d thought that everything they were doing was special, had taken his time with her, had thought of her virginity as this precious fucking gift that they were preserving, her first time one that would be done right, and only when she was really ready. The concept that, less than a month ago, she’d been in Tobey Fucking Grant’s bed, had him inside of her, was mind blowing, and against everything he thought about her, every way he looked at her.

He breezed through the exit door and toward the employee lot, two security guards standing at his approach, one tipping his hat at Chase before holding out a hand for his pass. He yanked at his bag, pulling out the card and passed it to the man, who held it at the card reader. It lit red, and something inside of Chase snapped. He took a deep breath, watching the man scan it again, the same result produced.

“You know who I am, just let me through.”

“Mr. Chase, if you could just step to the side.” The man had an attitude, the tone one used on misbehaving delinquents, and it pushed tacks into the thin skin of his self control. Any minute, Ty and her dad would come outside. Any minute she’d be feet away, her eyes on him, those begging eyes, and he would lose his mind.

One of the guards stepped to the phone, his eyes on Chase, and who the fuck could he be calling, why the fuck were they keeping him here, and they needed to fix their machine and open the damn gate. He pushed forward, past the man and reached for the handle, the man shouting a protest, and when hands closed on his arm, the final thread of his self-control snapped.

A little known fact about Chase Stern: At fifteen, he was an amateur boxing champ, a career that could have brought him much success, had he not instead focused his fast hands and hand-eye coordination on baseball. It didn’t take much to drop the three-hundred-pound security guard. One right cross on the man’s left jaw did it.

One right cross that changed everything, instantly, for them.

57

“This isn’t like you.” Dad was worried, I could hear the strain in his voice. I pushed open the door to the bathroom and came face-to-face with him. I ended the call and dropped it in my bag.

“I wasn’t feeling well,” I lied. “Something I ate. You know. Diarrhea.” It was a crude but effective answer, his face relaxing, though worry still pricked his eyes.

“Want me to get the team doctor? He can give you—”

“Oh my God,” I interrupted him. “I am not going to Dr. Z about this.”

“It’s a long way home. Do you think you’ll make it?”

“I’ll be fine.” I nodded to the door, ready to get out of here. “You ready?”