We're hanging out in the bed of his big red truck. Chase is sitting with his back to the side as I'm seated next to him, facing the open tailgate.
As he drove us out into the middle of nowhere, he didn't ask about where Myles had run off to or why I looked upset in the bar earlier. I know he saw the disappointment on my face, but being the gentleman he's always been, he gave me an out and didn't probe further. Between being dissed by my fiancé then having an unexpected heart-to-heart with Mom, I'm relieved he didn't push. Since being with him, I haven't thought of either instance at all.
Pulling my legs up and in to my chest, I wrap my arms around them for no other reason than to feel less exposed. One hand holds my beer and the other rests on my knees, holding my chin. I'll admit, I haven't felt this free and open in years. Could be the beer, or the company, but I'm happy tonight.
"So," I start and then take another quick drink for courage. "Why'd you stop talking to me?"
"What?" he asks, feigning ignorance. I know he knows what I'm referring to because he's doing all he can to avoid looking up at me.
"Did you get tired of me? Was that it? You were too cool to hang around the awkward teenage neighbor. Was that it?"
"No, Ry," he says softly, looking down and peeling the label off his beer. "It wasn't that."
So I'm right in that he had his own reason to sever our friendship. I just don't know what the reason is yet. I prod, "Well? What was it then? What did I do wrong?"
Inhaling a deep breath, Chase finally looks up and tries to explain. "I thought if I ignored you, you'd stop comin' around and just go away."
Ouch. I gasp.
"How long have you been waiting to sling that insult?" I question. Hearing him put it so directly hurts.
Releasing a small fake laugh, he corrects, "Not like that. I mean…." He looks out into the field, then says, "I was a man."
"Uh, yeah?"
"I was a man attracted to a woman."
What?
"Chase, you're not…." Before I can finish, I realize what he's trying not to tell me. "Oh."
"You were changing."
"That happens, but it shouldn't have affected our friendship."
"But it did."
"I got that," I confirm.
We both take another drink before he paralyzes me with his further explanation. "About the time I thought I wanted to ask you out, you started seeing Myles."
I'd say he was giving me shit and not being serious, but looking at him now, so still and so calm, I feel his sincerity. And his admission comes as a surprise, to say the least.
"I don't know what to say to that," I whisper.
The silence lingers, the only sound the crickets chirping in the distance. The air is thick with the late-evening Midwest humidity and there's no breeze to cool my skin.
"Glad you asked?" He smiles, twisting his neck and looking inside the truck's back window.
"No, not really."
"We can forget it," he dejectedly suggests. "I'd rather we did, anyway."
The notion that I could forget what he just said is ridiculous.
"I had a huge crush on you back then," I confess right before taking a healthy drink. After swallowing, I question, "Did you know that?"
With a lighter tone, he replies, "Yeah, I knew."
Raising my head and turning it to look directly at him, I ask, "You knew I thought of you… that way?"
"Ry?" he calls, and I sense another jab coming. "You didn't exactly do a great job of hiding it."
"Oh, whatever," I snap back. "You were so busy with all your girlfriends. I'm surprised you took the time to notice."
"Oh, I noticed. I noticed how pissed your little girl self would get when I told you I was busy."
"Gag," I say dramatically. "You were such a douche bag."
He lowers his voice then strikes me again. "I still noticed, right? I mean, a man doesn't forget the first girl who tells him he's pretty."
Oh, my God.
"You remember that?" I sink back and bury my face in my knees. "I was so lame."
"You weren't," he denies. "You were little Annie. You've always been that to me. I won't say being called pretty wasn't a shot to my ego, though. But it was sweet coming from you."
Reaching over, I do what I know I shouldn't, but I feel safe with Chase. My hand covers his and holds on. "I'm glad you told me why you stopped talking to me." His hand closes around mine and he doesn't let go. "I never knew and it still bothered me."
George Straight's "I Cross My Heart" is playing from inside the truck. I can't help but think how fitting it is to be sitting here, in an open field, drinking a beer, with the first man I ever loved.
And just like that I frown, realizing it's not the man I'm going to marry in just three weeks.
"We should go," he murmurs. When his hand drops from mine, he starts to move to the front of the truck bed. Once standing down on the field below, he offers his hand to help me down.
"Thank you for bringing me here tonight. It was perfect. I had fun."
His hand squeezes mine as he brings it up and holds it to his chest. Judging by the sincerity in his voice, his confession must be what he believes is true. "I hate you're marrying Myles, but I get it."