Emancipating Andie

He never meant to invade her privacy that night in South Carolina, but once he started reading, he couldn’t stop. Her words manipulated him, drawing him in and pushing him away, intriguing him, riveting him, enticing him. He knew on some level that he was trespassing, that he was learning her with every word, that he was privy to her mind as she lay sleeping next to him, and he felt his blood race through his veins with the intimacy of it. He drank her words with fervor, and when they ended abruptly in the middle of a chapter, instead of feeling sated, he felt ravenous.

He inhaled slowly, bringing her number up on the screen one more time. He shouldn’t have told her the way he did, but being so close to her again, feeling her hands on him, her eyes on him, made him want to rip down all of the bullshit walls they were both hiding behind. He just wanted to say everything he was feeling, everything he’d been thinking for weeks.

But he knew that he wouldn’t.

So he had been honest with her in the only way he could at that moment, and the look on her face after he had confessed what he’d done had threatened to completely rid him of his already rapidly deteriorating self-control.

So he left.

Like a coward.

Leaving her to try and make sense of everything on her own.

Chase brought his thumb to the send button. He just wanted to hear her voice again, to tell her he was sorry that he upset her, even though he knew he’d never be sorry for reading it.

He exhaled heavily, moving his thumb to the right and hitting the button to clear the screen instead. With an irritated shake of his head, he tossed the phone onto the tangled sheets next to him, catching sight of the stack of pictures on the small table next to his bed. He reached over, flipping through them quickly until he found the one he wanted.

She was laughing; her hair was windblown, little tendrils curling and whipping around her face as she glanced over at the camera, at him.

It was the picture he’d taken when he told her he wanted evidence of the day she threw caution to the wind, the day she took him to Tybee Island. With a heavy sigh, he fell back onto his bed, placing the picture on his chest as he closed his eyes, wishing he could go back to that point in time.

He hated it, this unsatisfied feeling of wanting, the constant thoughts of her that consumed him. Chase knew what the problem was; he never held back like this, never kept himself from what he wanted, at least not anymore, and so he had no coping strategies to fall back on.

Chase’s eyes flipped open as he heard the muffled ringing of his phone, and he sat up quickly, rifling through the sheets until his hand wrapped around it, trying to smother the tiny ember of hope that it would be her.

Incoming call from Tyler.

He closed his eyes and shook his head slightly before he hit the button to take the call.

“Tyler,” Chase said into the phone.

“Hey man, what’s going on?”

“Nothing, just trying to figure out some shit for work,” Chase said, standing from the bed and ru

“Me and Matt are heading down to Ripley’s to shoot some pool. You wa

Chase stared at Andie’s face before he lifted his eyes, catching sight of his image in the mirror; his shoulders were slumped, his face miserable as he clutched the photo of her.

Pathetic.

He shook his head at his reflection before he leaned over and slid her picture underneath the stack of photographs, the metaphor not lost on him. He was burying it, just like he would try to bury this feeling, until he had completely forgotten about both.

And he would start tonight.

“Ripley’s?” Chase said. “I’ll be there in twenty minutes.”

“There’s no way you’re making this,” Matt said, gesturing toward the table with his bottle before he took a long swig of beer.

Chase laughed as he leaned over the table, lining up the shot. “You wa

“Hell yes, I do,” Matt said. “There’s no fucking way. If you make this shot, I’ll buy your drinks for the rest of the night.”

Chase smiled, lifting his eyes from the shot for a second to look at his friend. “Careful, Matty,” he said. “I think I’m getting a taste for some Macallan. Or maybe a little Dalmore Sixty-Two.”

Matt stared blankly at him. “What the hell does that even mean?”

Chase burst out laughing. “Dalmore is quality scotch. That shit will cost you about sixty grand a bottle. You never heard of it? Get some fucking class,” he said, bringing his eyes back to the table. He tried to ignore his friends’ laughter as he lined up his shot, sliding the cue slowly between his fingers. He stilled, taking a breath before he thrust it forward, sending the cue ball spi

“Fuck yes!” Chase shouted, pointing at his friend who stood there speechless with his jaw dropped.

“Holy shit,” Tyler laughed. “I can’t believe you just pulled that off.”

“I can’t believe I have to buy this asshole a glass of sixty-thousand-dollar scotch,” Matt said, rubbing the back of his neck.

Chase walked over and clapped him on the back. “Why don’t we start with a Heineken,” he gri

Chase kept his eyes on her as he chalked the cue; she had turned away from him slightly, her wavy red hair shielding her face from him, and his eyes dropped to take in the rest of her. She was wearing black pants and a green shirt that fit her just right. He could see that her stomach was flat, that her chest swelled nicely before it was concealed by the length of her hair. He lifted his eyes back to her face just as she tucked the curtain of red behind her ear, glancing again in his direction. She smiled again, her face flushing slightly as she looked away.

“Alright, Heineken it is,” Matt sighed, walking past Chase.

“Hold up,” Chase said, taking the twenty out of Matt’s hand. “I’ll get the drinks. You rack.” He grabbed the triangle off the side of the table and tossed it to his friend as he walked toward the bar.

He kept to the right, leaving several chairs between him and the girl. He could see her out of the corner of his eye, stealing glances at him as he waited.

“What can I get you?”

“Can I get three Heinekens?”

“Yup,” the bartender said as he turned and reached into the cooler, grabbing three bottles.

As he placed them on the bar, Chase asked, “That redhead down at the other end, do you know what she’s drinking?”

The bartender glanced discreetly in her direction, and Chase smiled at his skill. “Shiraz,” he said, looking up at Chase.

He nodded, reaching in his back pocket for his wallet. “And send her a glass of Shiraz, please.”

“You got it,” he said, taking the money Chase handed him.

He left a generous tip on the bar before he grabbed the three bottles, cocking his head over his shoulder as he walked back to the pool table. He saw the bartender place the glass of red wine down in front of her and say something, gesturing with his head in Chase’s direction. She turned, a slow smile curving her lips as she made eye contact with him.

“Thank you,” she mouthed, and Chase winked, smiling when he saw her cheeks flush a shade of red that rivaled her hair.