Part 3His So-Called Love

"Chase, I almost died." I opened my eyes and locked onto him.

Chase's eyes darted away, his Adam's apple bobbing as he stammered,

"B-but you're fine now, aren't you? Blair lost her championship because of you!"

I let out a bitter laugh. Right. As long as I didn't actually end up in a body bag, I was always the one to blame.

And his precious Blair was just an amateur racer who barely competed in anything legitimate anyway.

Chase, oh Chase... Who was the one who swore he'd always stand by my side?

"I didn't tell your mom. You know damn well who's keeping tabs on you. Don't pin your mess on me. I couldn't care less." I rubbed my temples, head throbbing.

"Heh... couldn't care less? You know what you did back then. It wouldn't be the first time you ran your mouth!" Chase slammed the door and stormed out.

I sank back against the headboard, feeling completely drained. Maybe it takes staring death in the face to realize some things are broken beyond repair.

Like the widening chasm between Chase and me.

Chase and I were practically childhood friends.

Throughout middle school, I was his only deskmate.

The Montgomeries arranged that, of course.

The heir's circle had to be strictly vetted. I was merely the barrier meant to keep worldly distractions away from their golden boy.

That dynamic shattered during our sophomore year of high school, the day Blair transferred in.

Unlike the typical preppy schoolgirls in their modest dresses, Blair walked in wearing a leather motorcycle jacket, a helmet tucked under her arm, short shorts over fishnet tights, her striking face stunning even without makeup.

Wild, unapologetic, vibrant, and free.

She was a spark of lightning for everyone suffocating under endless exams.

Including me, and including Chase, who had been raised under the strict, stifling thumb of the Montgomery household.

The teacher didn't appreciate it, though. He scolded Blair harshly, telling her she didn't look like a student and ordering her to change out of the fishnets immediately.

A well-meaning girl offered her jacket to cover Blair up, but Blair tossed it aside.

"Ever heard of personal freedom? What a bunch of nerds."

I frowned, but caught Chase letting out a quiet chuckle.

Unease pooled in my gut. I quickly tried to redirect his attention.

"Um, I won't work my part-time shift tonight. Let's walk home together."

Chase snapped out of it and smiled. "Sure, Harper. You always ditch me for your shifts, but you're actually free today?" Yet his eyes kept drifting toward Blair.

Maybe it was fate, like the predetermined leads in a romance novel. No matter how I tried to steer around it, their collision course was inevitable.

Before long, Blair sat at my desk more and more often.

Her nickname for Chase evolved from "Chase" to "Valedictorian Montgomery," and finally to "Chasey."

I watched the ice in Chase's eyes melt away as he devoted more and more of his hours to her.

No one can juggle two lives at once.

Even Chase couldn't escape the reality of plummeting grades caused by his distraction.