Foreman looked up from his newspaper when Cameron walked in that Tuesday. That Valentine's Day.
A red heart was lying on the table, her name written in pretty cursive on the front. It was hard to miss. Cameron looked over at Foreman, who smirked back at her.
There was nothing written inside besides the corny printed poem, but it wasn't hard to guess who it was from. She could cross House and Foreman off the list, and Chase, who was normally here early, gulping down ridiculous amounts of coffee, was suspiciously absent.
"Where's Chase?" she started to say, but at his expression, she glared at him. "Don't say anything."
He grinned. "He ran when he saw you coming."
Cameron glanced out to the corridor where Foreman was gesturing. Foreman had lifted his paper again but he wasn't reading it. Cameron squared her jaw and headed out of the room.
"Give him a kiss from me," Foreman called, his face hidden by the paper. Cameron turned around and narrowed her eyes, but he missed it all.
Confrontation. Chase hated it. So when Cameron came striding purposefully into the locker room, Chase knew to be scared.
"Hey, Chase," she said casually, leaning against a locker, folding her arms across her chest in what he supposed she intended to be a relaxed position.
Chase nodded back warily.
"It's Tuesday," she told him expressionlessly.
"I know."
"Could've written it in your card," Cameron said, her head tilted. "Saved you the trouble."
"It's more fun to say it," Chase said, though it wasn't, and Chase wished he'd thought of it to avoid the awkwardness of his words of affection. It had been a good idea at the time, but Chase had very quickly it wasn't. He'd felt a bit self-conscious the second time he'd said it, and his stomach squirmed whenever he thought of the look of Cameron's face. After that, he just felt stupid. Cameron knew it was coming, and had some witty comment tucked up her sleeve. Cameron was beginning to enjoy Tuesdays more than Chase wasn't.
"So are you going to say it?" Cameron wanted to know. Chase swallowed uncomfortably. She was wearing a pleasant smile that Chase used to love, but as he saw it increasingly often, and began to know what it meant, he had decided he didn't much like it at all.
"You're not supposed to ask for it," Chase said.
"It's just that I get so nervous waiting for it," she said. Chase frowned.
"You've spent too much time around House," he said, trying to keep the annoyance out of his voice. She hadn't moved at all, her back still pressed against the locker, her pose unnaturally casual.
"I'm sorry," she said, gazing at him with surprising ease. She wasn't, Chase knew, but that was a mere formality.
It hadn't started out as a power thing, Chase was sure. He had honestly wanted to convey his feelings to her, in a way that showed her he was truly serious about it. It hadn't taken long to progress to Cameron exploiting it as an opportunity for her to point and laugh. And now, finding the way to get back in charge was the only thing he could think about, come Tuesdays.
"So how long do I have to wait?" Cameron asked, moving over to the seat in the middle of the room, leaning back, looking lazily up at him.
He didn't want to say it, but he didn't know what else to do. She was staring, waiting, and either they would stay there until he said something, or he would have to walk out, knowing she was still sitting, smiling smugly.
"I like you," he said, deadpan, hoping she would have no idea what he was thinking. "Happy now?"
"Are you?"
Chase was surprised to her there was no malice in her voice. She'd stopped smiling, and he wasn't sure which expression scared him more.
"What are you talking about? Of course I'm happy."
"With this game, I mean," Cameron said, sitting forward, putting her hands around her neck. "What are you expecting to happen?"
Once again, Chase was speechless. He hadn't expected this, for one thing.
"I know you're smart enough to see what's going on. Do you think I like to let you down week after week?"
Chase swallowed, frowning.
"Do you think I like to hear you tell me how much you feel for me when I know I'm never going to feel the same?" Cameron was breathing hard, looking almost as if she were going to cry. "When you know I'm never going to feel the same?"
He didn't want to look at her, but he couldn't not, he found. Her eyes demanded his attention. Demanded an answer. He supposed he had known, really, if he'd wanted to think about it. To be honest to himself, he wasn't sure he liked Cameron as much as he professed to. As much as he used to.
"Chase?" Cameron's voice was quiet, but it still startled him. "I'm really sorry."
"Yeah," Chase said. "Me too."