A/N: Part one of Wookie. Stringing things together, making sense of what doesn't make sense. Hopefully.
Five dates. I had no way to gauge how significant that was, considering I had never really been on a real date, and in actuality those were five fake dates. For Chuck's family, that seemed to be a turning point, an indication that I was here to stay. From what he had told me, he hadn't even been on more than one date with someone in a very long time…so five was very significant.
Five more days passed with little to no activity, other than maintaining our cover. I had sort of explained to Chuck that even when we didn't have missions that we could disguise as fake dates, we needed to continue to have cover dates, or when possible, the semblance of a cover date. For example, if Ellie and Devon were both working and no one was home, we didn't need to interact, but we had to coordinate our stories–what movie, where we ate, things like that. The first time I brought that up, Chuck joked that his lifestyle could support actually doing what we were lying about doing. He hated lying to his sister, I knew that. But I also knew what tenuous ground I was treading upon, and spending the amount of time with him that I could have, instead of just when I needed to, could only lead to the situation worsening. Five dates and three weeks in and already caught up the way I was, any unnecessary interaction needed to be mitigated.
It was not sustainable, but I had no day-to-day coping plan, so I started there.
During that five day span, we staged a date, that is, we led everyone to believe we had gone out for pizza and a movie. We also had a real, well a real fake date, after two days of Ellie and Devon asking him when he was going to see me again. He came to pick me up after a hot dog shift and we went for a walk in the park. It was a beautiful day and the park was full of people. We weren't anticipating running into anyone Chuck knew, so we walked side by side, without touching. There were plenty of real couples in the park, skirting around us so they wouldn't have to let go of each other's hand. I found myself wishing he would see someone he knew, so he would have to hold my hand.
Most of the conversation came from Chuck. It was random, inconsequential banter…but I was riveted. He was funny, funnier than I think he understood about himself. His delivery when retelling a story was perfect…and that smile, accompanied by that laugh…was mesmerizing. Even the sound of his voice held me. His voice pitched higher when he was excited or joking, deeper when he was being serious.
On one of the paths, a younger woman was walking a small poodle on a retractable leash. She had given the dog leeway, perhaps a little too much leeway, for the dog's leash threatened to trip us. She started to apologize, at the same instant her dog suddenly thought Chuck was the greatest thing ever. I've heard it said never trust a person that animals don't like…and although I never really had a pet until after Chuck and I had kids, I tend to agree with that. Animals can sense things humans cannot, more precisely because they can smell the difference, knowing how much more sensitive a dog's nose is than a human's. I think about that sometimes…wondering what fear smells like, or sadness, or even kindness. What did that dog smell on Chuck? Whatever it was, almost every dog we ever crossed in the park, for years, would nearly tackle him, just to get near him. Can't say I really blame them.
He bent down, perfectly undisturbed by the dog's footprints on his black pants or the dog's saliva on his hand. He held out his hand for the dog to sniff and was rewarded with a sloppy lick. Chuck patted the dog on the head and then scratched behind its ears. After the owner pulled the dog away, Chuck told me he and Ellie had a dog when they were little, a Cocker Spaniel named Peaches. He explained that she had run away. Something passed over his face…I wasn't quite sure what it was. He wasn't still heart-broken over his dog from when he was a little boy, but something about that statement, some deeper meaning that I didn't understand was there. I learned what that actually was not much later than this day, but here, it left me wondering.
I told him I had never had a pet, ever. He looked at me like he wanted to ask me why, but he refrained. Instead, he suggested I get one. Start small, he said. A fish or a crab. A little bit of maintenance. I had never even thought of having a crab as a pet, and the thought of what I might have to feed it worried me. A fish? A goldfish, you know, just a bowl full of water, some rocks, and a small bottle of fish flakes. The end of our fake date was Chuck walking into the pet store with me and helping me pick out a goldfish and supplies.
I hurried home with my new pet in a plastic bag full of water. I poured my blue pebbles on the bottom of the bowl, stuck in my fake water plant, and filled the bowl with water. The man in the pet store told me how to transition her…hang the bag inside the bowl to let her acclimate first for a few hours, then dump her into the fresh water with the old water. She was bright orange and adorned with so many feathery fins that made her beautiful as she fluttered around the bowl, examining her new home.
She was just a fish, but I sat there for almost an hour, watching her do that. Should I name her? I wondered. The longer I stared, my mind started running away with me. My first instinct was to name it Sarah. Too strange, naming a fish after myself. But she was a lot like me, wasn't she? Beautiful on the outside, cold on the inside. Displaced, unnamed…with a very short life span. I realized afterward I was staring at the fish with tears in my eyes.
What the hell was wrong with me? I thought. Maybe it was hormonal. With a burst of memory, I realized I had let my injections lapse since leaving Mexico. It was only three weeks, but three weeks was enough to disrupt my cycle. This was probably PMS, something I had a little experience with when I was a teenager. I put a reminder in my phone to call the CIA physician in the morning. To treat the PMS, I told myself. There was no chance of me actually needing the contraceptive. That thought made me sad in a strange way, but I chalked it up to the PMS again. This is as good a segway as any to the next part of the story.
Carina Miller, part two. Or deux, as Chuck would say, in that cute and adorable way that he does. Although I guess it's technically part three, if I count her interaction with Bryce in Mexico that I was not a part of. This is the first of five times she's interacted with us, or me, after I met Chuck.
Chuck called me the next morning when I was on my way into the Wienerlicious and told me his sister had invited me over for pizza and game night. I accepted right away, even as I heard him start to tell me it was ok if I couldn't, we had just seen each other the other day. I was buzzing after that call, so much so that Scooter commented on it when I walked in. It was good for the cover, I told myself. I would tell myself this a thousand times it seems, but it started here. It stopped me from examining my own feelings that closely, the problem with the fact that whenever I wasn't with Chuck, I was thinking about the next time I would see him, whether it was across the parking lot, working in the Buy More, or on a fake date.
The lack of mission and/or Intersect information at the time meant the next time I saw Chuck was at his apartment. I dressed casually, but I tried on three different tops before I was satisfied with how I looked. Ellie hugged me tightly the second I was inside, something that surprised me.
"We're huggy," she said with a hearty laugh and a beaming smile. She was like a ray of sunshine. I really liked Ellie.
Chuck came around the corner, obviously walking from his room after he heard me knock. He was sporting his usual t-shirt and jeans, and he smiled brightly. My heart skipped a beat when I saw him…and it scared me acknowledging that. I tried to pull those feelings away from the surface and bury them. My insides were so chock full of pain and misery that I had stowed away, there was almost no room for the buoyant feelings like these…happiness, attraction, longing. I tried all the same, but they never stayed buried, popping up and making me smile beyond my ability to control it.
I shook that off and sat down with Chuck and his family. Devon had ordered the pizza and we were waiting. He asked me if vegetarian was ok, then apologized because he had already ordered before he checked with me what I would like. I told him it was fine. There was nothing that one could add to a pizza that couldn't be removed. While we were waiting, Morgan showed up, saying it was his regular night to play video games with Chuck. Chuck was embarrassed, I could tell. He didn't want Morgan to feel badly, because he had legitimately forgotten their longstanding date, but couldn't undo this makeshift double date either. I suggested Morgan stay.
Ellie was a good sport, agreeing with me, but I could tell she would have preferred if Chuck just told Morgan he would take a rain check. The game she had picked out was a couples game. It made me nervous, and also complicated Morgan's third, or fifth in the case, wheel impression. I came up with another compromise, that Morgan could play against me to see who knew Chuck better. I had no doubt Morgan would win, considering they had been friends since kindergarten, and I hoped that would make him feel better about the whole evening.
We played the game and ate the pizza at the same time. Ellie and Devon were on the couch and Chuck was on the armchair. Morgan was fluttering around the room, but never straying far from Ellie's side, which I could tell she found annoying. I sat on the floor at Chuck's feet. He offered me the chair, always the gentleman, my Chuck, but I told him it was fine. His legs were too long to sit where I was sitting. I leaned against his leg, giving the perfect balance of togetherness without being all that close. Ellie eventually sat on the floor next to me. It was fun and I was genuinely laughing, deep, hysterical laughter that made my sides hurt, an experience I had never felt in my life before. The point of the game was moving along a game board, each correct answer that pertained to knowledge about your significant other putting you closer to winning. Ellie and Devon were cleaning the floor with us, even better than Chuck and Morgan.
But they were in love, a real couple who lived together. Ellie and Devon were the first real couple I had ever spent any significant time around. I loved watching them, I honestly did. I felt like I was a nature observer, like Jane Goodall, taking internal notes for how I was supposed to behave with a real boyfriend. For the cover, I told myself yet again.
The dog Chuck had just told me about the day before came up during the game, which I thought was a stroke of luck. He smiled like the sun when we scored that point. It was a little embarrassing, how badly Chuck and I were doing in the game, considering we were supposed to have been dating for three weeks. I didn't know all that much about him, he didn't know that much about me…and I was also lying to keep up my cover. I actually lied on the spot and made up a sibling I never had, a slip of my tongue, truth be told, as I know that wistful longing for a sibling was amplified as I realized how much I enjoyed Ellie's company. I'm lucky this flippant comment didn't come back to haunt me, and honestly I'm not sure why it didn't, at least before Ellie knew that I was a spy.
And then Bryce came up, once again. The question was "most hated person ever." Morgan was over Chuck's shoulder, which is why I know he wrote the truth, because Morgan would have called him out on it if he hadn't. Chuck wrote Bryce's name. I guessed Harry Tang, honestly because Bryce and all that entailed, my actual spy life in general, was the farthest thing from my mind while we were playing the game. Everyone in the room seemed to think that was a gimme. I realized the truth after I looked at Chuck's face, how crestfallen he was. Morgan jumped right on the bandwagon, listing Bryce's offenses, all of which I already knew. Morgan kept going on and on, and it bothered me, how unconcerned with Chuck's feelings Morgan seemed to be, but that was Morgan, at least then. It definitely put a damper on the good vibes I was soaking in.
Ellie and Devon won, of course, although Morgan and Chuck came in a decent second, compared to Chuck and me. Chuck told Ellie he would walk me out. She hugged me again and then walked me to the door while Devon and Morgan said goodnight cordially. I grabbed Chuck's hand as we were waiting for Ellie to open the door. I don't know why I was expecting a sweaty palm, but Chuck's hand was dry and warm. It felt electric, where our skin was touching. Ellie shut the door. We were both looking at our hands, joined, when I pulled away, telling myself I had to let go, now that no one was watching.
I commented on how much better Morgan did. Morgan really was the Intersect on Chuck, which was funny to think. Chuck's mood had been a little deflated since the topic of Bryce had come up. He mentioned, in a slow, deep voice, that he wished he could use his Intersect to know everything about me. It sent a shock through me, a jolt that I held my breath through, telling myself he didn't really mean that, that knowing all of that would horrify him to the point where he could be afraid to be in the same room with me. I covered it by telling him he could ask me things he wanted to know. I didn't want to have to lie to him, and I was hoping whatever he could come up with in the moment was something I could tell him. He went straight for Bryce, though.
I told him Bryce was my partner, but we were never really friends. This was a lie of omission, but still a lie, in retrospect. I justified it to myself here because what I told him was factual truth, even though it wasn't really what he was asking. Bryce was my partner…and even on our best day, he wasn't my friend. My and Chuck's definition of friend weren't the same, but using Chuck's definition meant Carina wasn't my friend either, and she was, at least to me. He wanted to know if Bryce and I were together. Maybe not crudely asking if Bryce and I were ever sleeping together–Chuck would never blatantly ask a woman that, or ask anyone that. The answer to that real question was complicated as well. I fucked Bryce…and I had let him fuck me. He was nominally my boyfriend, and I had cared rudimentarily about him…but what Chuck meant, we never were. It was too much to explain, too much I never wanted him to know now that I knew all of what Bryce had done to him, so I left it unsaid. I didn't quite grasp that leaving it unsaid implied to Chuck that none of that was true or could be true. It caused problems later, thanks to Carina.
His relief at my answer made me uncomfortable. I looked down and turned, so he wouldn't see my face, and wouldn't be able to discern the lie I was parsing to him. He followed up by reminding me how badly we did with the questions about sex. He couldn't even say the word "sex" to me, which was ridiculously cute and ironic at the same time, considering how much that word was actually on my mind. Morgan actually did better, oddly enough, at least the generic ones combined with his knowledge of pubescent Chuck and his middle school/high school encounters with girls. It was very safe to say Ellie and Devon concluded after that game that Chuck and I weren't having sex...yet, and I say yet because they thought we were really dating. Was after three weeks of dating early to have sex for a normal couple? I have no idea and no basis for comparison. Even now, I couldn't tell you. Ellie and Devon had sex almost as quickly as I seemed to before I met Chuck, though for an entirely different reason, and something I didn't learn until years later. Chuck and I waited three years, which is also not realistic. All I can say is Ellie and Devon thought we should have been having sex, based on the vibes they both got from Chuck and me, which were legitimate. She just had no context for the real life barriers that were in between us.
Chuck asked about the cover when it came to sex, probably for that same reason, that he had concluded what his sister now thought. I told him the cover was…we were taking it slow. In all of the places outside my head, anyway.
I drove home, recalling how jumpy I'd felt when I was in Chuck's apartment and when we were in the courtyard…like someone was watching us. Regardless of a specific mission, my ultimate goal and reason for being around Chuck as much as I was was in order to protect him. If someone was lurking around, they were a danger to Chuck. But nothing materialized while we were there, so I tried to forget it. I went home and got undressed. I fed my fish and then went into the bathroom to start the shower. I saw the intruder's reflection in the faucet dial. I tensed, but didn't give any indication that I knew I wasn't alone. I was barely dressed, let alone ready for combat, but I thought quickly. I grabbed a bar of soap and dropped it into a pair of pantyhose that were drying on the rack outside the shower.
I attacked first with the soap, swinging it like a mace. My opponent was small in stature, which was a little problematic again. I made some headway and ran for my purse to extract my firearm. I had just enough time to point it and then my opponent kicked it out of my hand. We were reduced to hand to hand combat, and the noises I started to hear made me think my opponent, covered from head to toe in black, was actually a woman. I grabbed the base of the lamp and used it as a weapon. The fish bowl crashed from the table and spilled onto the carpet. Once we were both on the ground wrestling, I was convinced my attacker was Carina. Her punches gave her away. That, and she scooped up my fish, tossed it back in the bowl, and righted it. I pulled off her mask.
Of course it was Carina, brawling with me for no reason other than she thought it would be fun. The last time I had seen her was in the hospital after I had rescued her in Pakistan. I knew about the things she had done in her career, just as I'm sure she kept track of me. That's what we did…kept track of each other. For spy friends, that's probably the best you can hope for when you weren't stationed together. We cleared the air to make sure we knew each other's covers, still the same from the last time we had worked together. The eerie being-watched feeling made sense, as I surmised Carina had been watching me on my fake date with Chuck, although I wondered if she thought it was fake or I was really on a date.
She told me she was here, in Los Angeles, because she needed my help. Something about stealing a diamond. I teased her. My nose was bleeding and I was out of breath, and swatted her hand away when she tried to help me up. For all the trouble she had caused in my younger years, I did miss her. She was my friend, my real friend, not someone who thought I was someone other than I was. My spy friend, taken in context.
It was late and she excused herself, telling me she was certain Graham would brief me in the morning about all of it. She was staying in a different hotel, but told me she would see me in the morning. I put more water into the fish bowl and then hopped in the shower, like I had planned before Carina showed up.
The fish was floating dead at the surface of the water when I woke up.
I felt sick and sad as my eyes fixated on the bloated fish, its eyes wide open and seeing nothing. I wondered if I had somehow hastened its demise, not easing it back into the water, or if it was inevitable, after the trauma of being tossed onto the carpet and deprived of oxygen for too long.
I got ready in my hot dog uniform, and as sure as she'd told me, Graham called and told me to report to Casey's apartment first thing for an important briefing. The briefing had started right after I had arrived. Not two minutes later, Chuck barged into Casey's apartment without knocking. He did that because he saw Carina and flashed, but we pulled our weapons on him. A, he had never been inside Casey's apartment before and B, he didn't knock. I don't know if he knew I was there, or if he was just looking for Casey to relay the information. We went back to the briefing and Chuck asked if he should leave. Graham, on the computer, told him to stay. That was the first time that Chuck had seen either General Beckman or Langston Graham.
Graham gave most of the briefing, talking about Peyman Alahi and the diamond he had in his possession that had plans to be sold to fund the opium cartel. Chuck was muttering during the briefing until Casey shushed him. Our mission was to assist Carina, who was a DEA agent. We were to do reconnaissance and then steal the diamond on the following day. Graham wanted us to take Chuck for the reconnaissance. I exchanged a worried glance with Casey, although I don't think we were worried for the same reason. I made it a point to tell Graham that although I respected Carina's expertise as a field agent, she was too erratic and unpredictable to take on a mission with Chuck. It was too dangerous.
Casey brought up his past with Carina as well, which I knew was a raunchy tryst that had happened one night in Prague when Carina had been on a solo mission while still a part of the CATs. The more I knew Casey, the weirder I thought that story was, but knowing Carina, all he really needed to be was breathing and willing. Graham brought up Prague by name, which I couldn't help but smirk over, sensing Casey's embarrassment as I stood next to him. Chuck made it worse…even though it was meant as an innocent question. We were stuck with Carina. I didn't like it at all, but I had no choice. Neither one of us did, so we just had to deal with it.
I took Chuck out into the courtyard to properly introduce Chuck and Carina. Casey accompanied us. Carina made a lewd comment to him off the bat, which I saw made Chuck do a double take at Casey. Chuck stumbled over his name when Carina asked him who he was. Carina, up close and personal like that, could be a bit much. She was six feet of legs in tight clothes. She was the epitome of sex appeal; it radiated from her. She didn't walk, she slinked, like her clothes were just an illusion. I made sure I told Carina Chuck was an analyst. She was not privy to Chuck's secret, regardless of our mission. I also warned her about Morgan being a civilian.
Morgan and Carina is actually a thing, believe it or not, but here, it was only one-sided. She called him Martin, even after repeated corrections. She was way too self-absorbed to care that she was calling someone by the wrong name. A strange habit of hers that actually reminded me of my father and how he would call people what he wanted to call them, instead of their name. More on that later.
Carina came with me to the Wienerlicious so I could go over the mission briefing while still working my cover job. She had already seen my ridiculous uniform, but the sight of me behind the counter serving wieners set her over the edge. She thought it was the funniest thing she'd ever seen. The fact that she was so amused didn't bother me; I was actually glad that she seemed…ok. As in, not drinking and doing drugs. Her head was clear and in the game.
She couldn't wait to ask me about Chuck. He was a man and potential chum in her fishing game in her mind, I knew. She may have given up the intoxicants, but not the mindless coupling. I ignored her probing questions and gave her facts only. She actually sounded sincere when she told me she was sorry about Bryce. It was very sweet. Too sweet, I think, because she tossed in a gallows humor line to defuse that level of connection.
She defied me and left the Wienerlicious to try and get the low down from Chuck. I couldn't let her have free rein. It was too dangerous and potentially compromising to Chuck's cover. She took off and I almost followed her out the door until Scooter came back in from cleaning outside and ordered me back to my post. All of the documents I was reviewing, dossiers from the CIA and DEA, were open on the counter. I walked casually back and scooped the documents out of the way while Scooter wasn't looking. But that gave Carina a head start back in the Buy More.
I slid the files underneath the counter and then waited for Scooter to go in the back room before I could leave again. Carina was standing in the doorway waving at Chuck. He looked bewildered by her presence, but he smiled at me, which inexplicably put me at ease. I took to arguing with Carina, telling her she needed to back off, that she was not in control here. She was defiant. Chuck approached us, apparently because Morgan asked Chuck if I could set him up with Carina.
I kept glancing at Carina out of the corner of my eye while Chuck was talking. She was eying him up and down like a side of beef. It made me feel like I had heartburn. It was in fact jealousy, although my awareness of that was almost non-existent, since I had never felt jealous before in my life…not knowing Sam had a dead wife, not even watching another woman handle Bryce's penis. Yet, Carina sizing Chuck up that way set my insides on fire.
Chuck wanted me to say no. I don't blame him–he wanted to protect his friend. Getting him a date with a spy, even if she was pretending to be normal, wasn't safe. I jumped at the idea, sadly because I think it gave me the opportunity to occupy her with something other than Chuck. I told her if she wanted our help, that she needed to go out with Morgan. Typically, she had already forgotten again who Morgan was. Poor Chuck was upset…but Morgan was on cloud nine.
Ellie and Devon were out, so Chuck decided we would have pizza and watch a movie at his apartment. Carina actually dressed relatively casually, very restrained for her. Chuck sat in the arm chair again, which made me feel oddly that was his way of sitting away from me without it looking suspicious. He wasn't wrong, that sitting on the couch could lead to closer contact than we normally had. It was for the cover, I told myself, as I sat on the arm of the chair where Chuck was seated, watching Carina hang all over Morgan.
I called Chuck "Sweetie" for the first time here. It just came out, maybe after I had heard Ellie and Devon the night before calling each other Babe, Honey, Sweetie, and a bunch of other things. For the cover…it was my mantra. We would have pet names for each other if we were really dating, right? I had to be a little more physically affectionate with Chuck than I had been before, considering Carina was all over Morgan and they had just met. Being cold, or appearing cold with Chuck, would have gotten more verbal ribbing from Carina, which would only have compromised our cover with Morgan. She was already probing in a conniving way, poking into everything that was said, instigating manipulatively. Just Carina being Carina, but it was annoying me.
I touched the back of Chuck's neck, telling myself it was to keep up with Carina, but I couldn't resist it, leaning over him as he sat in the chair. He called me "Sweetie" in return, a little hesitantly, although I'm not sure if the hesitation was using the word…or just zoning out when I touched him. He did close his eyes, like he was reveling in the touch. That look on his face made my heart feel liquid again.
Chuck went into the kitchen with Morgan to get the pizza. I tried to tell Carina to chill for a bit. She said that was just her, on a date. To be fair, it was also her on a date to literally drag Morgan into the bathroom and fuck him, but that was not going to happen here, and I hoped telling her that way was enough to calm it down. She told me how boring my cover seemed. It irritated me and I told her point blank that I was good here. Maybe I said it the wrong way, giving too much away…maybe that was when she realized that I was into Chuck and that meant he could be ripe for her picking, like she had tried to do with Bryce. I honestly don't know, but I suspect it was.
We sat all four of us, crowded onto the couch, eating our pizza. I coaxed Chuck over, thinking it was safer for Morgan if we were crowded. It felt nice sitting that close to him, feeling the warmth of him against my bare arm, his thigh up against mine. Almost awkwardly, Chuck tucked a tiny throw pillow in between us, cutting off the chance that his bare arm could brush against mine. Morgan was whispering to Carina, not watching the movie, when Chuck blurted out some classified information about her that he could only have gotten from that initial flash earlier that day. I don't think it even occurred to him, which worried me, because that kind of carelessness could make my job that much harder. She definitely took note of what he said and what he knew.
Chuck was due to meet me at the Wienerlicious first thing in the morning to go over the plan to ascertain the location of the diamond. He didn't make it there until lunch, giving me no explanation as to why he didn't call me when he reported to work. He didn't seem right. He was tired, his face washed out and his eyes pink. He was almost in a daze, not able to focus on me. He played with his food and barely ate anything. He also wouldn't look at me. I asked him if everything was ok. It barely registered. I made it a point to tell him to stick with me once we were at the mansion, afraid Carina's penchant for improvising could put him in needless danger. I even brought up Pakistan, without specifics. That was the only time he actually looked at me.
Whatever that…something I saw was wrong was there in his eyes, dark and brooding. I ended up looking away, telling him Carina was not to be trusted as I looked down at the table top. Those words broke whatever spell of gloom he was under. He looked relieved, which increased my tension level. I felt better, but asked him why.
"Well, Carina said something last night–" he started.
"Last night?" I queried, rather sharply. We parted ways at Chuck's apartment. What did she do? That heartburn…which was in fact jealous rage…boiled up from my stomach again.
"Oh, right," he explained innocently. I'm sure he never once thought what I just had thought. "Uh, well, she put a call in to the Nerd Herd after-hours number and I was the one who was on call."
I had no idea that was even a thing. My mind filed it away, noting to tell Casey that was another obstacle we were facing on this assignment. Why did she call him? She didn't even have a computer. Burning, thinking of his strange mood, I asked him urgently, "What did she tell you?"
Scooter interrupted us, for my extra lengthy break. It made me even angrier. "What did she say?" I repeated.
"I mean, it doesn't matter if it's not true," he replied, a hopeful lilt to his voice, I think because he could tell how upset I was.
"Just, just tell me," I asked him, almost certain what he was going to say she told him.
"Something about Bryce," he started, his voice flat, as if he realized his hope was unfounded. "...and you, you know, being together."
I felt like he was looking straight through me. I couldn't answer him. I had no idea what to say. He thought I had lied to him. I technically hadn't, although this wasn't an FBI interrogation. The spirit of what I had done was still to be dishonest, to mislead him. He narrowed his eyes at me, angry in a way I had never seen him before. And then of course, Scooter interrupted us again. I resisted the urge to punch him in the face. I got up and moved him out of the way, then sat back down in the opposite chair.
"It's not true, right? You and Bryce, that's not true, right?" he asked again, his voice tight.
"It was complicated," I offered weakly, knowing this was true, but not enough of an answer for him.
"I thought you were supposed to be good at lying," he said, his voice heavy with accusation and blame. His eyes felt like daggers, piercing me. I wanted to tell him more, but I didn't know what I could say that would matter. I couldn't explain, at the same time bewildered and yet understanding why it bothered him so much knowing Bryce and I had been lovers. Bewildered because in my mind already, only three weeks after meeting him, Chuck meant more to me than Bryce ever had. Understanding because Chuck saw Bryce as his nemesis, the one person who had destroyed his life, who now had something else Chuck wanted but couldn't have.
He stormed out of the Wienerlicious…and I felt like he ripped my heart out and pulled it with him, dragging it behind him as he went.
