.:. Ten .:.
Molly's head throbbed and her vision swayed. Her fingers grazed the indent where he had slept, his scent tethered to her sheets.
Chase was gone when she awoke. The only reminder of him was a note anchored by a stack of sugar-dusted crêpes, the green sticky-note crumpling between her fist and disfiguring his scrawl of—'we need to talk'.
And Molly did need to talk—to rant, even—but to Kathy. She had sent her a cryptic text message—'I did it! With him!'—while the blonde responded with a series exclamation marks and winking punctuation.
Footsteps crunched the gravel outside and her door whipped open. Kathy's expression was giddy, like a child let loose in a sweet shop. Her fingers curled around a small, neatly folded paper bag as her heel kicked the door closed.
Molly folded her arms over the paisley quilt and made a gun gesture with her hand, pressing the barrel to her skull whilst mouthing 'kill me'. Kathy's lips slanted in amusement as she strode over and bounced her weight down onto the side of the bed.
"Well, don't we look lively?"
Molly groaned and slid her wrist over her eyes. "I feel even livelier."
"Here," her french-manicured nails clawed through the bag, the silence filled with the crackling of paper. "You owe me, honey. I've never seen Jin's eyebrows so high."
Kathy extended several packets of pills—paracetamol and vitamins and the morning after pill. Molly flushed and gulped as she deposited them into her cupped hands.
"I'm assuming you weren't careful."
"Careful and drunk aren't words I'd string together, no," Molly mused her hair, smile thankful despite her shame. "Thanks, Kath. Tea?"
The farmer untangled the sheets from her limbs and rose, padding into the kitchen. She filled the kettle and placed it onto the hob, switching the gas. Her kettle was old-fashioned and Chase berated her for her medieval appliances. He declared that he would buy her an electric kettle for Christmas.
"Go on then, but no sugar! I won't fit into my dress otherwise."
Kathy dragged out a dining chair and idly tugged a leaf on the artificial plant that centered the table.
"Chase likes his tea bitter, too," she compared, voice holding a smile.
"Was it named after him?"
"I'd wager it."
"Speaking of Chase," Kathy's tone was suggestive. "Spill. The. Details. I'm withering over here!"
Molly rolled her eyes as the kettle whistled. She took the chipped mug for herself and gave Kathy the one with the metallic finish, finger-prints always staining the surface. In order to tease Kathy on her wedding-diet, she plucked a packet of chocolate biscuits from the cupboard. The blonde's eyes flashed and she puckered her lips.
The farmer spooned three cubes of sugar into her tea and stirred. "How'd you know it was him?"
"Who else would it be?"
"Um, Hamilton, maybe? Don't judge me."
"Thanks for that image," she rolled her eyes, cup hovering before her lips. "What was he like? Chase, I mean."
"Like I can remember."
Kathy sloped forwards, grin reaching her ears. "Liar."
Molly exhaled as her eyes fixed on the packet of pills. "I suppose I freaked him out at first—when I kissed him, that is. He froze and tried to stop me, then I... I must have done something and he flipped and his eyes—god, he's never looked at me like that. They were hungry—"
"Hungry?" Kathy tossed her head back and laughed, the sound melodic and girlish. "Of all the darn words in the world and that's how you'd describe them?"
"Can I please live my embarrassing life? Thanks. In some kind of undressing stumble we landed in my room—in my, uh, bed. Then he kissed me when he—he was gentle, as though he was afraid I might break or something. But he was... closed off. His walls were up."
She winked, voice mocking. "Hot."
"Is it though? Really?"
"Duh!"
"I think I must've asked him to hold me after. I don't think he wanted too—he was probably sobering up, after all. So I curled on my side with my back facing him. I felt the weight of his hand on my waist, but that's it. I don't know if he slept at all. I didn't want to turn over and check."
"Did you?"
"I think the alcohol knocked me out."
Kathy craned her neck to the living room where the drained bottle of vodka situated on the coffee table. She arched her eyebrows. "I'm not surprised."
'Stop—' he had warned. 'You'll regret this in the morning.'
'Please, Chase.'
Molly moaned as snippets from last night's conversations reeled through her mind. She popped a tablet from the packaging and swallowed with a mouthful of scalding tea. Her gums burned and turned numb.
"Oh, Kathy. I'm so humiliated! You should have seen the way I was acting beforehand—I was so clingy and teary and sad—or in other words, an absolute mess."
She reached over and patted her hand. "I don't get why you're getting so worked up over this, hon. It was bound to happen sooner or later."
At her words, Molly's mind was transported to the night in the Italian bistro. Chase reclined in his seat, swilling the contents of his glass.
"Impossible," he had said. "You can't be friends with the opposite sex without wanting to date them." He studied her face and his expression soured. "Eventually. But certain thoughts would run through your head anyway, and it would be ruined. Pointless. Best to avoid it."
Her eyes widened and she shrunk back. "How can you say that? We've known each other for years—he's one of my best friends and I've just ruined it! God, I was the one who came onto him! I was the one who forced him to ruin our friendship!"
"Now," her tone twinned a strict mother. "Do you really think Chase would do something he didn't want to do?"
"I suppose not."
Molly exhaled and lowered her gaze, liquid staring up at her. Sugar granules floated to the surface—she added too much, yet it still tasted bitter to her.
"So where is he? Was he there when you woke up?" Her head tossed from side-to-side, as though she believed Molly had hidden him in her wardrobe or boiler cupboard.
Molly's eyes traveled to the plate of half-eaten crêpes on the bed. They were good—better than any of her culinary experiments. But they lacked the spark of flavour and precision that Chase always integrated into his cooking—edges burnt while a thick layer of icing-sugar failed to mask the imperfection. He'd thrown them together, rushed and distracted. Molly liked to think of them as a half-hearted apology as to why he couldn't stay.
"No," her thumb circled the rim of the mug. "But I didn't expect him to be. I'm kind of relieved, actually. It would have been awkward if he was. He made me breakfast and left a note—" Molly fished into the pocket of her cotton shorts and located the sticky-note. It was torn and barely distinguishable. "Which I've apparently mauled."
"What does it say?"
"He wants to talk."
Kathy made a noise of frustration. "Honey, why are you still sitting here and talking to me? Go and talk to the guy!"
.:.
The farmer once again took Kathy's advice and she soon found herself on Chase's doorstep. She flicked on a pair of sunglasses to—one, avoid eye contact—two, to shroud her puffy eyes—and three, to give her hands something to fiddle with. She inhaled shakily, stomach churning with nausea.
Why was she so nervous?
Her knuckles rapped on wood and he answered instantly. The door whipped open with such force that it caught his foot and he winced, a curse tumbling from his lips. He was dressed, but his hair was messy and tangled while dark rims stained under his eyes. He was unshaven, and he reminded Molly of a haunted writer.
"Uh, are you coming in or what?"
Chase sounded awkward and it shook her. He was always cool and collected with a sarcastic remark quick on his tongue. He was looking at her without really looking at her, eyes glazed over with fatigue.
Molly blundered. "W-What?"
His stare focused. "As I'm the perfect embodiment of a gentleman, I'm inviting you inside. Unless you want to talk out here and catch hypothermia amidst our conversation, then fine."
"No, um, sorry. I'll come in."
"Good idea."
He stepped aside and Molly entered, almost tripping over the mat. They stood in the center of his kitchen and she pushed up her sunglasses. The silence was suffocating and they avoided each other's eyes like the plague. Eventually Chase cleared his throat, fingers raking through his hair.
"I've ran out of... tea."
"It's fine. I had some before I left."
"Right."
Chase's lips twisted uncomfortably as he mechanically dragged out a dining chair and sat. Molly shadowed him. His fingers itched the collar of his turtleneck, flashing a bruise. Molly squeaked with embarrassment and toed her boots against the floorboards.
"Look, last night was a mistake," the words left his lips in one rushed, impatient breath.
Molly flinched. "Oh—you think so?"
His eyebrows pinched in confusion as he slouched in his seat. "Don't you?"
"No, yeah, of course," she shook her head, voice quiet. "Last night was a mistake."
The tension left his shoulders, eyes clearing with relief as his lips curved into a half-smile. "You hungry? I've got strawberry cheesecake in the fridge—"
"Sorry," Molly stood abruptly, the chair screeching wood. "But I think I should go. I feel a little ill—most likely the beginnings of a cold, you know?" She forced a smile and her cheeks ached. "You're coming to Kathy's wedding next week, aren't you?"
He rolled his eyes and rose, leaning his weight on the back of the frame. "I'm the only caterer on the island. Unless she plans on her guests starving, I think it's self-explanatory."
She plucked the sunglasses from the table and slipped them on, an awkward chuckle spilling from her lips. "Yeah, obviously. Sorry. Well—bye-bye."
Spinning on her heel, she fled the house. She halted when she reached the stone bridge and the memory of Maya's teary face and disgruntled appearance resurfaced in her mind. 'Promise you won't fall in love with him, 'kay? Because all that meanie will do is hurt you—crush your heart into a million pieces!'
Rushing water drowned out the sound of her sobs, salty droplets mingling with the stream.
.:.
Autumn was the theme of Kathy and Owen's wedding.
Molly remembered the endless days—and nights—of wedding planning she had endured with her.
'Do you think warm tones compliment my hair?' Kathy had asked her as she waved two swatches of material. Apparently they were different tones of red, but Molly couldn't tell the difference.
She hummed with thought. 'What about Owen's hair?'
Kathy moaned and banged her head against the table. Chase strolled into Molly's house soon after asking if she had lost it—was she attempting to induce herself into a coma? A shoulder bag was slung across his torso, holding paper and pencils and various flavours of icing and sponge in order to finalize the design of her wedding cake.
Molly immediately suggested a strawberry ripple cake, yet Chase whacked her on the back of the head informing her that it wasn't her wedding. The blonde wiggled her eyebrows and joked that Chase would make the best strawberry cake in the world for their wedding. Molly flushed while Chase fumed, threatening to burn it.
Kathy eventually settled on a simple vanilla sponge with raspberry and cream filling. Neither she or Owen possessed a sweet-tooth and the option was neutral, appealing to the rest of the guests.
Yet all of the stress was forgotten as Molly glanced down to her bridesmaid dress—identical to Luna and Candace's. The skirt fluttered in a myriad of red, orange and yellow, and from the sweetheart neckline floated chiffon straps. The farmer appeared to be the embodiment of elegance—until she lowered her gaze to her neon-green painted toes. She exhaled and lifted her bouquet of freshly picked anemones.
"What a spectacle," Chase's drawl resounded from the doorway. "Dolly's all dolled up."
Molly almost dropped the flowers with fright. She spun around and fixed the chef a glare, which he returned with a small, crooked smile. Her eyes averted to his attire—he wore a finely pressed black suit, white shirt, unbuttoned at the top and a slack, red tie. A blush creeped across her cheeks while butterflies frenzied her stomach; she had never seen Chase look so fancy. He even combed his hair back, the neatness enhancing his features somewhat.
She knew she had been staring with the crook of his eyebrow, yet her attention soon shifted to Luna's shrill, haughty voice.
"Chase! This is the dressing room! The females dressing room! Leave!"
Chase rolled his eyes and folded his arms. "It's not like there is anything appealing to look at in here."
Candace reddened and Luna pursed her lips, blue eyes slit. Molly mused her hair and avoided his eyes; she was still uncomfortable around him because of the events of last week. It wasn't something she could move on from easily, even if he could.
Luna huffed and proceeded to throw a high heel at his head—luckily, he managed to swerve it.
"God, Pinky," his jaw was set, eyes narrowed. "I thought we wanted to attend a wedding not a funeral—just give me a minute."
He ignored Luna's continuous complaints as he strolled across the room, halting when he stood in front of Molly. He plucked one of the anemones from her bouquet and her eyebrows knit in confusion—yet he surprised her further. He fished one of his hair-clips from his breast pocket and attached the flower to it.
"You're quiet," he murmured in observation, voice deep and drawn out like always. It felt like a lifetime since she last heard it, even though only a week had passed.
"Yes, well..." Molly began, finding her green toes particularly intriguing. "I am... a... quiet person."
A sound which resembled a laugh formed in his throat, eyes secretive as though there was a hidden joke within her words. His fingers brushed her ear as they gathered a piece of freshly curled hair, pinning it back with the flower-slide he fashioned.
"Better," he announced as he turned to leave. When he reached the doorway, he craned his neck back. His lips teased her but his eyes were modest. "Red suits you."
Molly couldn't decipher if he was referring to her complexion or her gown. Yet her opportunity of questioning vanished along with his figure. She was left puzzled and blinking at the doorway in his wake.
However Luna's voice snapped her out of her reverie, eyes sparkling with curiosity. "Ahem? What exactly is going on between you two?"
"We're just... friends."
But as she fingered the slide, she found that she couldn't believe her words.
.:.
Owen's hands twitched with nerves as he stood at the altar, awaiting for the arrival of his bride.
Molly, Luna and Candace filed into the church and she caught Chase's eye. He slouched in the pew, foot resting on his knee. He flicked a stay curl from his eyes and mouthed—'don't fall'. Her tongue clicked and she returned her attention straight ahead. The trio of bridesmaids huddled to the side as Kathy entered the church, arm looped with Hayden's.
Light beams from the stained-glass window spotlighted her and she glowed. The white peplum of her gown hugged every curve—hourglass perfection.
Molly and her skewed amusement half-expected Kathy to jive down the aisle to Like A Virgin. She snorted and Luna tossed her a withering glare and crudely jabbed an elbow in her side. Chase would find that funny, she decided. Yet Kathy didn't humour her vision—her strides held elegance and poise, chin tilted while a tiny smile tugged her baby-pink lips.
Once her figure met the altar, she kissed her father's cheek and took Owen's hands into her own. Amidst Perry conducting the vows, her gaze drifted to Chase and he openly yawned. He didn't care for weddings—he didn't see their purpose. It was just a stupid piece of paper, he had said. It doesn't change a relationship—only the means of escape. Her lips pulled sadly at his cynicism.
The rings were exchanged and with a flutter of confetti, the duo were married.
To Molly it only seemed like yesterday that the two of them were naive university students—partying and bingeing on cheap beer, dancing to out-of-date songs and chatting nonsense to strangers at bars. Stumbling back to their respective dorms in the early hours of the morning, uncoordinated arms shrugged around shoulders as the sound of their hysterical laughter echoed the desolate streets.
Those days were gone.
Her best friend was married.
A tear rolled down her cheek and she swiped it with the back of her hand, the sound of Kathy calling her name startling her.
"If I'm getting hitched, you can be sure as hell that you are too! Catch, honey!"
The bride twirled and threw her bouquet into Molly's hands. Her expression remained confused, yet Kathy simply winked and smiled deviously before returning her attention to her husband.
Molly knew this wasn't how the bouquet toss worked. Nevertheless, she laughed and clapped along with the rest of the town as she held up her victory prize.
.:.
The after party was held in the Brass Bar.
Molly loomed in the corner and sipped a strawberry daiquiri as she observed the unfolding scene. Kathy had indulged in countless numbers of alcoholic beverages and was attempting to persuade Owen to dance along to Lady Marmalade. Laughter spilled from the farmer's lips—Owen tried to appease his wife, but his movements were robotic and clumsy. He repeatedly shot pleading looks to Luke, who grinned obliviously and gave a thumbs-up.
Chase stalked over to her dark corner once he had completed the buffet preparations. He still donned his suit, but with the absence of a tie and jacket, his sleeves rolled up. He leaned against the wall with crossed arms, sparing her a glance from the room crowded with drunkards.
"Someone's been avoiding me."
Molly knew this was coming. Apart from the brief conversation before the wedding, she hadn't spoken to him since arriving on his doorstep the morning after. She steered clear of the bar and ignored his relentless phone calls. He'd sent her a text message inquiring if Paris had trampled her to death, and when she didn't respond, his next tactic was to come over and investigate. The coward that she was, Molly hid under her bed and blocked out his impatient knocking.
For an entire week she hadn't left her farmland and Kathy accused her of being a hermit who avoided her problems.
"Avoiding? I don't know what you're talking about," she prayed her voice sounded even. "I haven't been avoiding you. I've just been extremely busy."
She avoided his eyes and focused upon stirring her cocktail. The green umbrella submerged and she frowned as she watched it disintegrate. Chase straightened and towered over her.
"Busy," he mimicked. "The only way you'd go a week without pestering me to make you ice-cream is if you were dead. And as you seem to be alive, the only other conclusion is avoidance, which is what you're doing."
Molly snapped her head upwards and slammed her drink down onto the nearest table. Her eyes blazed with pent-up fury while hands gestured wildly. "Oh, give me a break! Are you a detective now? Are you changing your career path? Believe it or not, Chesney, but I don't have to tell you what I'm doing every second of the day."
His expression remained stony, eyes slit. "Never stopped you before."
"Well, that's before we slept together!" Molly hissed.
"God," his palms smoothed his hair back. "You're still hung up on that?"
"You act like it didn't mean anything!"
"Because it didn't!"
Residents began to crane their necks to investigate the yelling, so she grabbed his sleeve and tugged him into the empty kitchen. It was spotless, despite it's recent use.
"So, if it didn't mean anything," she pressed. "Why did you do it?"
"Why? Because you were looking at me with your weepy brown eyes and you made it impossible for me to say no to you!"
"You pitied me, is that it?"
Chase stepped backwards, hands behind his head. "You know what, Dolly? I knew this would happen—I told you this would happen the first time I met you. The opposite sex can't be friends because this bit would get in the way. And surprise, surprise. We sleep together, and look what's happened? This friendship we had? Out of the window."
"What, so you wish you never met me?"
"It would have been a hell of a lot easier if I hadn't."
Molly's laugh was humourless, gaze fixed on the kitchen tile. Her hands curled into fists, nails cutting into her palm; it was all she could do to refrain from slapping him. Her eyes were unforgivable as they met his and he gulped, hoping to swallow his words. His face was pale—twisted in regret.
"You've always been harsh, Chase. But this is a new low, even for you. Screw you."
She spun on her heel and stormed out of the kitchen, yet Chase's footfalls informed her that he was quick behind her.
"Look, Dolly—wait—I didn't mean—!"
"Speak of the two devils!" Kathy slurred into the microphone while Owen steadied her with the pull on her waist. "I want to make a toast—to Molly and Chase—if either one of us found them remotely attractive... well, we wouldn't be here today—"
"To Molly and Chase!" Owen finished with haste, raising his beer. It was probable that he was fearful of what else an intoxicated Kathy could say.
"Molly and Chase!" chorused the rest of the town with the lifting and clinking of glasses.
Chase cursed under his breath while Molly flushed and faked a smile, not wanting to ruin Kathy's special day.