her.
“But I do worry,” she told him
softly. “I care about you, and I
hate seeing you hurt. I don’t like
seeing you sad or troubled or—“
“I’m fine,” he said shortly.
But he wasn’t fine and it seemed to Faith
that they both knew it.
When they got back to his neighborhood in
Beacon Hill, Chase parked the car and then they walked hand in hand towards his
building.
As they walked, people began shouting at
him. Some were saying nice things
like, “ keep your head up!” or “you’ll get ‘em next
time, Chase!”
But others were not so kind. Some yelled out passing car windows or
from unseen open windows. The
catcalls were disorienting.
They said things like, “you suck,
Winters!” and “why won’t they pay me ten million dollars to choke?” or “you
should be ashamed of yourself!”
It was exhausting, and the walk from the
car to the apartment was short. Chase, for his part, was stoic in ignoring the commentary. He unlocked his apartment and let them
inside, closed the door and locked it behind them.
Faith sat down heavily on the couch and
breathed a relieved sigh to be away from the public. “That wasn’t fun,” she said.
Chase chuckled, throwing his keys on the
coffee table. “Relax,” he told
her. “It’s all part of the game.”
“Maybe it’s not worth it then.”
He made a face and turned away, and she
regretted the comment. Chase went into
the kitchen, asking if she needed a drink or a sandwich.
She told him she was fine, but he came
back a few minutes later carrying a bag of popcorn and a couple of bottles of
water. He sat down next to her on
the couch, opened the bag. “Come
on, you know you’re hungry.”
It turned out he was right. Maybe because she’d thrown up at the end
of the game, but whatever the case, she was starving.
Faith grabbed big handfuls of popcorn and
started eating. She kicked off her
shoes and Chase grabbed her feet, put them in his lap and slowly massaged her
feet. His hands were warm, strong
and reassuring against her skin.
“That feels good,” she admitted, smiling
a little.
Chase smiled back at her. “Even though I’m the one who needs their
feet rubbed.”
“I’ll rub your feet,” she said. “I’ve got good hands.”
“You don’t need to tell me,” he said,
looking her in the eyes.
She ate a handful of popcorn as he rubbed
the soles of her feet, relaxing her entire body with his skillful fingers.
How
many women would kill to be in my position right now?
Maybe
not as many as before today ,
she told herself—and then felt instantly guilty.
“What’s wrong?” he said again. “You want to talk about it? The game?”
She shrugged. “I know you’re already sick of thinking
about it.”
“Shit happens. I’ll get ‘em next time.”
“Are you really going to get them next
time?” she asked. “Or will you just
keep doing what you did today?”
The words had come out unexpectedly, but
now they hung in the silence, and Chase had stopped massaging her feet. He was just looking blankly at her,
and she was shocked too.
I
didn’t mean to say that. I didn’t
mean to doubt you.
But she had doubted him and there was no
pretending otherwise.
Chase wiped his lips with his thumb, back
and forth, seemingly lost in thought. Finally, he looked at her. “I didn’t think I’d have to justify myself to you, Faith.”
“I’m sorry I said that.” She looked down, picking at a loose
thread on the couch. “I didn’t mean
it.”
“Obviously, you did. You said your true feelings,” Chase
replied. “For someone with your
name, you sure don’t live up to it very well.” He pushed her feet off his lap and stood
up.
“Chase, please,” Faith cried out, and
then reached out to take his hand.
He pulled easily away from her grasp and
started walking in the opposite direction. He finally turned towards her
“But I do worry,” she told him
softly. “I care about you, and I
hate seeing you hurt. I don’t like
seeing you sad or troubled or—“
“I’m fine,” he said shortly.
But he wasn’t fine and it seemed to Faith
that they both knew it.
When they got back to his neighborhood in
Beacon Hill, Chase parked the car and then they walked hand in hand towards his
building.
As they walked, people began shouting at
him. Some were saying nice things
like, “ keep your head up!” or “you’ll get ‘em next
time, Chase!”
But others were not so kind. Some yelled out passing car windows or
from unseen open windows. The
catcalls were disorienting.
They said things like, “you suck,
Winters!” and “why won’t they pay me ten million dollars to choke?” or “you
should be ashamed of yourself!”
It was exhausting, and the walk from the
car to the apartment was short. Chase, for his part, was stoic in ignoring the commentary. He unlocked his apartment and let them
inside, closed the door and locked it behind them.
Faith sat down heavily on the couch and
breathed a relieved sigh to be away from the public. “That wasn’t fun,” she said.
Chase chuckled, throwing his keys on the
coffee table. “Relax,” he told
her. “It’s all part of the game.”
“Maybe it’s not worth it then.”
He made a face and turned away, and she
regretted the comment. Chase went into
the kitchen, asking if she needed a drink or a sandwich.
She told him she was fine, but he came
back a few minutes later carrying a bag of popcorn and a couple of bottles of
water. He sat down next to her on
the couch, opened the bag. “Come
on, you know you’re hungry.”
It turned out he was right. Maybe because she’d thrown up at the end
of the game, but whatever the case, she was starving.
Faith grabbed big handfuls of popcorn and
started eating. She kicked off her
shoes and Chase grabbed her feet, put them in his lap and slowly massaged her
feet. His hands were warm, strong
and reassuring against her skin.
“That feels good,” she admitted, smiling
a little.
Chase smiled back at her. “Even though I’m the one who needs their
feet rubbed.”
“I’ll rub your feet,” she said. “I’ve got good hands.”
“You don’t need to tell me,” he said,
looking her in the eyes.
She ate a handful of popcorn as he rubbed
the soles of her feet, relaxing her entire body with his skillful fingers.
How
many women would kill to be in my position right now?
Maybe
not as many as before today ,
she told herself—and then felt instantly guilty.
“What’s wrong?” he said again. “You want to talk about it? The game?”
She shrugged. “I know you’re already sick of thinking
about it.”
“Shit happens. I’ll get ‘em next time.”
“Are you really going to get them next
time?” she asked. “Or will you just
keep doing what you did today?”
The words had come out unexpectedly, but
now they hung in the silence, and Chase had stopped massaging her feet. He was just looking blankly at her,
and she was shocked too.
I
didn’t mean to say that. I didn’t
mean to doubt you.
But she had doubted him and there was no
pretending otherwise.
Chase wiped his lips with his thumb, back
and forth, seemingly lost in thought. Finally, he looked at her. “I didn’t think I’d have to justify myself to you, Faith.”
“I’m sorry I said that.” She looked down, picking at a loose
thread on the couch. “I didn’t mean
it.”
“Obviously, you did. You said your true feelings,” Chase
replied. “For someone with your
name, you sure don’t live up to it very well.” He pushed her feet off his lap and stood
up.
“Chase, please,” Faith cried out, and
then reached out to take his hand.
He pulled easily away from her grasp and
started walking in the opposite direction. He finally turned towards her
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