Emancipating Andie

chapter SEVEN



After they stopped at a gas station to change into some dry clothes, Andie had good-naturedly revoked Chase’s driving privileges on the grounds that he could no longer be trusted. He agreed, under the condition that if he were to be stuck in the passenger seat again, he should at least get to pick the music they listened to. They had shaken on it before Chase tossed her the keys with an amused expression.

Now, Andie sat in the driver’s seat again; the space between them was quiet, an easy comfortable silence as Chase scrolled through her iPod looking for something to listen to. After a few minutes, he finally hit the button before snapping it into the dock and leaning back in his seat.

The opening chords to Counting Crow’s “Colorblind” filled the car, and Andie rested her head back against the seat and fought the urge to close her eyes. It was one of her favorite songs, just as much for the haunting melody as for the profound lyrics. The chords seemed to vibrate through her, warming her from the inside out, and as they drove down the desolate stretch of highway, she couldn’t remember the last time she felt so contented.

She lazily turned her head to the side, looking at Chase; his head was back against the seat and his eyes were closed. The T-shirt he had changed into clung to his still-damp skin. There was the faintest hint of a five o’clock shadow defining his jawline, and his hair flipped away from his forehead and ears in wet curls, looking much darker than it was. Just before she turned her eyes back to the road, she noticed his hand on his thigh, his fingers moving to the notes as if he were playing some unseen piano.

“Do you play?” she asked.

“Mm-hm,” he hummed softly, his eyes still closed.

“Can you play this?”

He nodded. “It’s pretty simple,” he said. “The chords, I mean. Not the song. The song itself, the lyrics are just…” He trailed off, his voice lazy.

“Yeah, I know,” Andie said gently. They fell into silence again, listening to the song, until Andie sighed softly. “I’ve always wanted to play.”

Chase lifted his head to look at her. “You don’t play? You have a piano.”

“I know,” she said, shrugging guiltily, “I just thought it looked nice in the room.”

He smiled at that before resting his head back on the seat. “I’ll teach you to play this.”

“You will?” Andie asked, unable to keep the surprise out of her voice.

“Mm-hm. If you want,” he said softly, closing his eyes again.

She turned her eyes back to the road as the oddest feeling washed over her. For a second, she almost felt disoriented. How could only twenty-four hours have passed since they started this trip? To her, it felt like so much longer than that. And not in the way that a task seems to take forever when it’s tedious or mundane, but more in the way that she felt like the person sitting next to her was someone completely different from the one who climbed into her passenger seat yesterday morning. This person wasn’t callous, he wasn’t crude, he wasn’t antagonistic; he was smart, and funny, and sweet.

At that moment the disorientation gave way to a different, but much stronger feeling.

Shame.

Because she realized then that Chase had always been those things. She had just chosen not to see it. She had made the decision to pigeonhole him according to her own first impression of him, knowing all too well how incredibly deceiving first impressions could be.

Andie glanced over at him again. She had no idea if Chase knew what she had thought of him a day ago, but it didn’t matter. She felt terrible about it, whether he was aware or not.

But she knew how she could make it up to him.

Andie smiled to herself as the plan began taking shape in her mind. She had looked up some information on her phone when Chase was changing into dry clothes; she’d been looking at the map and saw the name of the place, remembering that Chase had mentioned it to her the day before, and her curiosity had gotten the better of her.

A little while later, Andie put on her blinker and took the exit off the highway, and Chase looked over at her.

“Again? You seriously have the bladder of an incontinent grandmother.”

“I don’t have to go to the bathroom,” she laughed.

“Then why are we getting off the highway?”

“We’re making a stop.”

His brow lifted. “A stop? Is this in the itinerary?”

“It is now.”

She glanced over at him just in time to see his slow grin. “Well, holy shit,” he said, unbuckling his seat belt and turning quickly to reach into the backseat.

“What are you doing?”

A second later Chase came back up with his camera. “For posterity. We need hard evidence of the day you threw caution to the wind,” he said, aiming it at her.

Andie laughed just as the soft click sounded, the flash briefly illuminating the space between them like a spark, and she found herself wishing that a camera could immortalize a feeling as well as an image.

Because she knew she would never want to forget how wonderfully unbound she felt at that exact moment.



Tybee Island was a small island about twenty minutes east of Savannah, Georgia. It was only about twenty-two square miles, but within that small area, it seemed to be everything or anything a person needed it to be. As they began the drive out to the farthest point of the island where Chase’s lighthouse was, they passed a large pavilion with a pier, buzzing with people and movement, the quaint shops bustling with shoppers. Yet on the next stretch of road, there was nothing but quiet bike trails and tranquil fields set aside for bird-watching or nature walks. They drove past a huge arena for water sports, where people were renting boats and kayaks and Jet Skis, only to then pass a pristine stretch of beaches, where the visitors lounged casually on towels or beach chairs. It was the perfect combination of hubbub and serenity; the island seemed like a living thing, ready to cater to anyone’s mood or desire.

Andie had been fascinated when they drove past the Tybee Island Marine Science Center, and Chase told her what they did there. Apparently, the island was a safe haven for an endangered species of sea turtle, and from May to October, the turtles came up on the beaches to lay their eggs. People from all over the island, tourists and locals alike, would volunteer to be part of the Turtle Trot. Each day they would go check on the nests of eggs on the beach, moving them if they were in any danger from local traffic or wild life or the tide. And when the eggs finally hatched, they would stand guard to make sure each baby turtle made it safely out to sea. This would go on for months, and Andie loved the idea of protecting the turtles just as much as she loved the concept of family and camaraderie the project created on the island.

Just before they reached the farthest point of the island, they came up on the Tybee Post Theater. Chase didn’t know anything about this place, but there was a mass of people milling around it, so they decided to stop and check it out. After talking to some locals and reading a few brochures, they learned that the theater was originally built by the army in the early 1900s and served as the main source of entertainment for Fort Screven, the military base on the island. Once the fort was decommissioned, some locals bought the theater and kept it running through the 1960s. The property was then repurchased and scheduled for demolition to make room for some new condominiums, but the deal fell through, and instead the building stood, gutted and vacant, for almost twenty years. Once again the people of Tybee Island rallied together, and with the help of a bunch of volunteers and fund-raising, the theater was renovated, this being the first year it was opened to the public again. The locals talked about the theater like it was a child they had raised, with pride and love, and Andie again found herself overcome by the feeling of family on the island. It seemed like everywhere they looked, there was some story, some history, something to learn.

The theater itself was amazing, the perfect combination of historic antiquity and modern charm. On this particular day, they were holding an art exhibit, and Chase was instantly smitten. Andie watched him wander around, his expressions changing as quickly as an ambivalent child in a toy store as he admired, critiqued, and studied the paintings and photographs. Andie never had much of an eye for art, but watching him look at the exhibits, she wished that she did. She wanted to look at something and be moved, be inspired, the way he seemed to be, and she found herself staring at the paintings, searching them, wanting to see what he saw.

They left the theater about an hour later and finally made it out to the lighthouse, one of the island’s most renowned attractions, and the second they reached the top, Andie could see why. She had been to the top of the Empire State Building, and even the Statue of Liberty, which both dwarfed the structure she was standing in, but still, the view from where she stood was unparalleled. It didn’t even look real; she found herself squinting for a moment, trying to decipher where the ocean ended and the sky began. Everything was blue, peaceful and serene and seemingly infinite, and it made her feel small in the most wonderful way.

After they had descended, Chase took off with his camera while Andie found a quiet spot on a grassy hill near the Head Keeper’s Cottage. She sat with her arms behind her, supporting her weight as she tilted her face up toward the sun, allowing it to warm her cheeks and shoulders.

She didn’t want to leave.

It felt so good, sitting right where she was, like visiting some Old World painting. There was still so much of the island they hadn’t seen yet; they hadn’t visited any of the beaches, they hadn’t seen the Fort Pulaski National Monument on the other side, they hadn’t even stopped at the Pavilion, or walked through any of the stores by the pier. They could spend days there taking it all in.

She opened her eyes with a sigh, knowing that little dream was completely irrational; as it was, they were already going to be late getting to Tampa now. The wedding was tomorrow, and they shouldn’t even stay much longer.

But God, how she wanted to.

Andie sat up and plucked a blade of grass from the earth, stroking it between her fingers as she stared off into the ocean. She never would have come here if it weren’t for him, she thought as she saw the tiny shape of him off in the distance, squatting against the sunlight with his head titled to the side, his face pressed almost intimately against the camera.

She would ask him for these pictures. She’d pay for them if he preferred. But she wanted a memory of this place, of this moment. Andie was already thinking about having them enlarged, already picturing where they would go in her apartment.

She leaned back on her hands again, watching the people circulating the lighthouse. Chase had been right; when someone was unaware that another person’s eyes were capturing the moment, it was amazing how much they revealed about themselves through their mannerisms. Like the mother who was clearly exhausted and beyond fed up with the little boy who was jumping behind her, doing karate kicks while shouting “Hiyah,” or the man who was spinning his phone in his hand over and over, glancing down at it every few seconds, obviously anxious about some incoming call or text. But the one that stood out the most to Andie was a young couple walking toward the lighthouse entrance. They looked to be somewhere in their late teens, and as they walked along the pathway, the boy had his hands in his pockets and the girl had her arm linked through his. Her other arm was resting loosely around the front of his waist, so that it almost appeared as if she were hugging him as they were walking. Her eyes were dreamy, a secret smile on her lips as she rested her head on his shoulder.

And he looked like he’d rather be anywhere else.

He stared off into the distance, his expression uninspired and his body language rigid. He kept his hands in his pockets, making no move to reciprocate the affections she was bestowing upon him, and it was clear to Andie that he was just as unimpressed with the girl at his side as he was with his surroundings.

Andie looked at the girl, a girl she’d never know, as Chase pointed out, and she felt a sudden sadness in her chest for the heartbreak she would undoubtedly be subjected to sometime in the near future.

Her thoughts were interrupted as Chase came up the side of the hill and sat down beside her. He held the camera to his eye, taking a few pictures of the lighthouse from their vantage point before he put the lens back on and gently placed it in the grass beside them. He mimicked Andie’s posture then, leaning back on his hands and supporting his weight in his arms, tilting his head back to allow the sun to warm his face.

“Thank you. For stopping here,” he said after a moment, turning to look at Andie with one eye squinted against the sunlight.

She smiled softly. “You’re welcome, but I should really be thanking you.”

He brought his hand to his brow, shielding the sun so he could look at her fully, and Andie felt her stomach flip in a way that forced her to pull her eyes from his.

She turned, looking over the horizon, but she could still feel his eyes on her.

“I wish I could shoot you right now,” he said.

Andie arched her brow as she turned toward him. “Well, that’s nice. I thought we were past all that.”

Chase threw his head back and laughed. “Oh my God,” he said, holding his stomach. “I meant I wanted to photograph you.”

“Oh,” she said softly. She could feel the blush burning on her cheeks as he laughed again, and she looked over to see him leaning back on his elbows, shaking his head and smiling.

“Why do you want to photograph me?”

He turned to look at her. His smile was more appreciative than amused now, and he dropped his eyes, looking her over before bringing them back to her face. He tilted his head, and Andie felt like he was analyzing her. Like he could see right through her.

Like she was completely exposed beneath his stare.

There was a tiny flicker of panic in her chest, telling her to turn away. To pull back.

To shield herself.

But she fought the urge, watching him watch her, and much to her surprise, the tiny warning faded, and in its wake came a thrill that ran through her, making her heart beat a bit faster in her chest.

It made no sense, but sitting there with him, letting him pull her apart and piece her back together, felt strangely empowering.

“You look new right now,” he finally said.

“New?”

He nodded. “Like you just discovered yourself.” Andie felt something jolt through her veins as he added, “It’s hard to explain, but I wish you could see it. It looks good on you.”

Her stomach twirled as she pulled her eyes from his, studying the blade of grass she held in her fingers.

“Shoot you,” he said through a laugh. “And what do you mean, we’re past all that? Does that mean you wanted to shoot me yesterday?”

Andie closed her eyes and laughed softly. “No, not shoot you. Maybe just…forget you at one of the rest stops before getting back on the highway.”

He burst out laughing again, and she smiled, looking up at him.

“Thanks for fighting the urge. Who knows how long I would’ve had to walk these highways before Uncle Bobby came to save me,” he said, leaning back on his elbows again. He dropped his head back and closed his eyes, smiling to himself.

Andie watched him for a moment before she said, “I’m sorry about all that.”

Chase shook his head. “Don’t be. I’m an acquired taste. I’m fully aware of that. You were just being candid. You don’t pull any punches. I like that about you.”

She smirked. “You only like it because you don’t have a filter either.”

“Well, I guess we have something in common then. You must be horrified.”

Andie laughed softly as she closed her eyes and tilted her face up to the sun.

“Don’t ever apologize for being you, Andie.”

She opened her eyes and turned to him. He was looking at her, and there was such conviction and sincerity in his expression that Andie felt like she was going to break under the weight of it. Before she could react, he broke eye contact as he laid back against the grass, looking up at the sky.

Andie turned from him; her heart was thrumming in her chest again, and she felt like she might burst with whatever was surging through her body. She didn’t know what this feeling was, but could tell that if she let herself go, if she relinquished her control and let herself get lost in it, it would feel incredible.

She inhaled a slow breath as she scanned the horizon, trying to bring herself back down from the unexpected high his simple words triggered, and her eyes landed on the same couple from earlier as they exited the lighthouse, the girl still clinging to the boy who was a million miles away.

“Were your parents ever happy?” she asked, hoping a little too late that she wasn’t opening a conversation that would upset him.

“I don’t know,” he said casually, squelching her fears. “Are yours?”

Andie sighed. “I don’t know.” She sat up straight, watching her fingers comb through the grass. “How is that possible? We’ve lived with these people. How can we not know?”

Chase sat up beside her. “Because we judge people by our own standards of happiness.” He plucked a small stone from the ground in front of him before he lifted his eyes to the horizon, nodding his head in the direction of the people walking around. “What makes you happy might not make that woman over there happy. But human beings have a terrible habit of thinking they know what’s best for each other.” He tossed the rock away from him with a sigh and laid back against the earth, clasping his hands behind his head.

He closed his eyes, and before Andie even had a chance to consider his words, he spoke again.

“When I was in high school, my dad was participating in this Doctors Without Borders thing going on in Costa Rica, and my mom and I ended up going with him. I was fourteen at the time, and I remember thinking, ‘This is f*cking awesome. I’m getting pulled out of school to go sit on a beach in Central America.’”

He smiled, his eyes still closed. “Obviously, we didn’t spend our time there on the beaches. The first day we got there, we were driving on these unpaved roads through these pathetic little towns. I mean, these houses, Andie, half of them didn’t even have doors. They looked like they’d fall over if you breathed near them. It was just like those commercials you see on television: little kids playing with sticks in mud puddles, dressed in rags. And I felt so bad for them, for the shitty way they lived, for their horrible lives.”

He turned his head toward her, opening his eyes. “But you know what? Those people, the ones in the town we stayed in, they were the happiest people I’d ever met in my life. Always smiling, or singing, just getting through their day with whatever they had. And they had nothing, but they’d give you the sorry excuse for a shirt off their backs if you needed it.” He shook his head. “I know people worth seven figures who aren’t as generous as these people were.”

He turned his eyes back to the sky. “I say they had nothing, but they had nothing by my standards, things my fourteen-year-old brain couldn’t fathom existing without. They didn’t have televisions or DVD players, or books, or nice clothes, or phones. But they didn’t give a shit. They were fine without those things. They had food, and shelter, and with the help of the program, medical care. And that was all they needed.”

He closed his eyes again. “I still have some pictures I took when I was down there. At the time I was just using some cheap disposable camera, but there’s this picture of one of the women from the town, and she’s sitting in front of a small pond with her son on her lap. This woman’s smile,” he shook his head slightly, “it’s one of the most genuine smiles I’ve ever seen. It’s not tinged with vanity, or manipulation, or desire. It’s just…happiness. Pure happiness.” He sighed softly. “It’s probably the most beautiful picture I’ve ever taken.”

Andie sat staring at him, the emotions washing over her quicker than she could name them. She felt the muscles in her arm twitch with the desire to reach over and touch him, run her hand through his hair, along the angular line of his jaw, down the length of his arm; but instead, she laid down next to him, their bodies mere inches apart as she stared up at the sky.

There were a million things she wanted to say, things she could have or should have said, but she suddenly found herself telling him something she had never told anyone, a random memory from her childhood she had never quite been able to forget.

“Once, when I was ten, I was playing in the park near my house,” Andie said, her voice soft. “I was sitting on the swings and I saw this couple, this man and woman sitting on the bench nearby. I was fascinated with the way they were wrapped around each other, almost like I couldn’t tell where one ended and the other began. I’d never seen anything like it. He kept kissing her. Kissing her everywhere. Her lips, her cheeks, the back of her hand, and she couldn’t stop smiling. I watched them the whole time they sat there. And even when they got up to leave, even when they were walking away, they were still wrapped around each other, like they were one person, or like it would cause them physical pain to be separated.”

She was aware of his eyes on her, that he had turned his head to look at her.

“And that night, I went home, and I sat at the dinner table, and I watched my mom and my dad, how they circulated around each other in the kitchen, like magnets turned over, you know? Unable to cross that invisible boundary that prevents them from clicking together. I mean, they were civil. They were kind. They talked about their days. They talked to me. But they didn’t touch, and they didn’t kiss, and they didn’t hug, and I realized then that they never really did. And I was only ten, but I remember wondering that night if the couple in the park was strange, or if my parents were.”

It was a moment before he spoke, the low timbre of his voice penetrating the silence. “It’s not a matter of one couple being strange and one being normal. Or even one being happy and one being unhappy. Maybe they both had exactly what they needed. Maybe they were both happy with what they had.”

Andie closed her eyes and nodded softly. In all the years that memory had plagued her, she had never thought of it that way.

“Did you ever ask yourself the real question, though?” he asked.

She opened her eyes and rolled her head to the side to face him, and as soon as she did, she wished that she hadn’t. Their faces were a few inches apart, his green eyes intense as they connected with hers.

“What’s the real question?” she managed, her voice soft.

“What do you want, Andie? Which of those scenarios would make you happy?”

She needed to look away, but she couldn’t. And if he wanted to, it didn’t show. He kept his eyes on hers, the air heavy with unspoken words as he waited for her answer.

The sharp sound of her phone ringing pierced the silence, and Andie jolted upright, fumbling in her purse for it as her heart crashed against her ribs.

“Hello?” she said as she brought the phone to her ear, her voice somewhat shaky.

“Hey, babe.”

“Colin,” she said, his name sounding more like a statement than a greeting. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Chase sit up slowly, running his hand through his hair as he looked off in the opposite direction.

“Where are you? Are you almost here?” he asked.

“Um, well, not quite. It’s gonna be a few more hours,” she said as she sat up straight and smoothed out her shirt.

“Really? What happened?”

“We hit traffic.”

She saw Chase turn to look at her then, and she caught his eyes for just a moment before she looked away. But in that instant, she saw in them exactly what she herself was thinking: they weren’t doing anything wrong. What they were doing was completely innocent, wasn’t it?

So then what reason did she have to lie?



By the time they got to the hotel in Tampa, it was after eight, and as they walked into the lobby of the Westin Tampa Harbour Island, the place where the wedding would be held the following evening, Andie lingered near the front desk where Chase approached the concierge. She knew Colin was in room 516. There was no reason for her to go to the front desk, and no good reason for her to wait.

Yet she found herself doing it anyway.

Chase glanced over at her, forcing a tiny smile. “You can go up. I still need to get a room, and then I’m probably gonna hit the bar and have a drink.”

“Oh…okay,” Andie said, taking a tiny step away from him.

“Go ahead,” he said, nodding toward the elevators. “I’m sure Colin can’t wait to see you.”

Andie nodded. “So…I’ll see you tomorrow?”

Chase nodded with a smile. “Good night, Andie,” he said before turning his attention to the concierge as she started asking him for information. Andie began walking over to the elevators, wondering if he was watching her leave and fighting the urge to turn around and find out. She hit the button and waited anxiously for the elevator, and as soon as she was inside and the doors closed, she exhaled heavily, her shoulders dropping as she leaned against the mirrored wall. She turned then, catching sight of her reflection.

“What’s happening to you?” she asked her likeness softly, just as the doors dinged open. She stood up and adjusted the bag on her shoulder, taking a deep breath before she stepped out into the hallway.

Andie approached the door of room 516 and knocked gently. A few seconds later, the door swung open and Colin smiled widely.

“Babe,” he said as he wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her against him. She turned her face into his neck, breathing in the scent that was him, wanting it to bring her back to a place where she was sure about everything in her life.

“I’m glad you’re here,” he said, bringing his mouth to hers for a brief kiss before taking her bags. He placed them in front of the closet before lying across the bed and propping his head up on his hand, his eyes on the television screen.

Andie went to work unpacking her things, glancing at him every few seconds as he watched the game on television. He was so handsome. After all this time, there were still days she would catch herself marveling at him. She had missed him. She really had. And that acknowledgement put her frazzled mind somewhat at ease.

After she unpacked, she laid next to him on the bed. “Did you eat?” she asked, snuggling into him.

He absently draped his arm over her. “I had a big lunch. The room service menu is on the table if you want to order something,” he said, nodding in the direction of the table, his eyes still on the screen.

Andie turned to follow his gaze. It was only the start of the second quarter; this game would be on for a while.

“Do you want to rent a movie or something?” she asked, running her hand over his side.

“Hmm?” he asked, glancing down at her. “Oh, um, maybe after this game, okay? I have money on it,” he said, kissing her forehead before bringing his eyes back to the television.

“Okay,” Andie said softly.

“How was the drive? Besides the traffic.”

Andie bit her lip before she said, “It wasn’t bad.”

Colin ran his hand over her hair, his eyes still on the game. “You sound tired. Why don’t you eat and then rest a little bit?”

She nodded, lying next to him for another moment before she finally sat up and pushed herself off the bed. She sat on the windowsill as she looked through the room service menu, finally deciding to order a Greek salad and a glass of wine. As she called and placed her order, she found herself wondering what Chase was doing—if he was still at the bar, whether or not he had eaten yet. She should have just gotten something to eat with him downstairs, she thought. Colin wouldn’t have missed her for another hour or so, not with the game on. And then she was immediately chagrined by her line of thinking, sitting four feet away from her boyfriend as she tried to figure out how she could have spent time with someone else.

About ten minutes later her dinner arrived, and she sat up against the headboard, her salad balanced delicately on her thighs as she stared without seeing at the game, sipping her wine, her mind a million miles away from first downs and extra points.

Somewhere around the start of the fourth quarter, Andie showered, changed into her pajamas, and brushed her teeth before settling under the covers next to Colin. She wasn’t sure how long she’d been asleep before she felt him snuggle up behind her, pressing the length of his body against the back of hers. His hand came to her hip, squeezing it gently, and as he nuzzled her hair, his breath fanned hot across the back of her neck.

She knew what would happen next. She could script it. He would start by kissing her neck, and when she began to respond, his hand would move from her hip to her lower stomach, sliding up the length of her abdomen until he reached her breasts. He would spend some time there, first with his hands, and then with his mouth, before his hand made its way back down her body and settled between her legs. And after she climaxed, he would make love to her, beginning below her but ending on top of her. And then she’d rest her head on his chest, and he’d wrap his arm around her shoulder, and they’d fall asleep.

Yes, with Colin, she always knew exactly what to expect.

And for the first time in their relationship, she suddenly found herself wishing she didn’t.