Chapter 62:
Chapter 62:
\-ZOEY ASHFORD-
Later that Evening.
Dinner was simple. Rice, stir-fried vegetables, and the leftover grilled chicken from last night. Mariah sat across from me at the dining table, her hair tied up in a bun, tapping on her phone while I pushed food around my plate.
She looked up after a few seconds.
“You’re awfully quiet. Did the chicken offend you or something?”
I sighed. “No, the chicken’s fine.”
“Then why do you look like you just got dumped?”
I gave her a look. “Very funny.”
She smirked.
“I know I’m funny. Now spill. What’s up?”
I hesitated for a bit, staring at my fork.
“It’s nothing. Just… that car ride earlier.”
Mariah instantly grinned. “Ah. That car ride.”
“Don’t start,” I warned.
“I’m not starting anything,” she said innocently, resting her chin on her hand. “I just happen to be curious how it went. You were so dramatic about it when you left.”
“It was awkward,” I admitted, picking at my food. “Completely silent. He didn’t even look at me the whole time.”
Mariah chuckled.
“That’s Chase for you. King of emotional constipation.”
“Mariah,” I said, half laughing, half groaning.
She shrugged. “I’m serious. He probably thinks silence makes him mysterious.”
“It just makes him unbearable,” I muttered.
Her eyes lit up mischievously. “Oh, so he bothered you?”
I looked up sharply.
"No. I just..he was rude, that’s all. When we got to the house, he said he didn’t drive me because of me but because of the baby. Like, who even says that?”
Mariah burst out laughing. “Ouch. That sounds exactly like him though.”
“It wasn’t funny,” I said, glaring at her.
“Okay, okay,” she said, trying to control her laughter. “But come on, Zoey, admit it..you wanted him to say something nice.”
I raised a brow. “Why would I?”
“Because,” she said, tilting her head, “you wouldn’t still be thinking about it if you didn’t care.”
I stabbed a piece of chicken. “You’re ridiculous.”
“Maybe,” she said, “but I’m not wrong.”
I rolled my eyes.
“You really need to stop making everything sound like a love confession.”
She chuckled. “I’m just saying. You’re ranting about him being grumpy, but the tone..you sound more… affected than angry.”
I dropped my fork and leaned back in the chair.
“You think too much.”
Mariah grinned. “No, you feel too much.”
“Mariah,” I said, narrowing my eyes, “if you don’t stop analyzing me, I’ll throw this chicken at you.”
“Do it,” she said with a laugh. “I’ll still be right.”
I groaned, covering my face with both hands. “You’re so annoying.”
She laughed harder. “I know. It’s my best quality.”
I peeked at her through my fingers, trying not to smile. “Why are you even defending him?”
“I’m not defending him,” she said, taking another bite. “I’m just saying maybe his grumpiness isn’t about you. Maybe he’s just… confused. Or scared. Men are weird like that.”
“Scared of what?”
She shrugged. “Of you. Of how they feel. Of the idea that they might actually want something real and not know what to do with it.”
I shook my head. “You’ve been watching too many dramas.”
Mariah grinned. “And you’ve been pretending too much.”
“Pretending what?” I asked.
“That you don’t care about what he does,” she said simply, meeting my eyes.
I looked away, my chest tightening slightly. “You’re reading too much into it.”
“Am I?” she asked softly, and for a moment the teasing stopped.
I didn’t answer. I just picked up my fork again and took another bite, pretending to focus on my food.
Mariah smiled knowingly. “Fine. I’ll drop it.”
“Good,” I muttered.
She leaned back with a playful grin. “But you should’ve seen your face when I mentioned his name. Priceless.”
“Mariah!” I shouted, throwing a napkin at her.
She laughed so hard she almost choked on her food. I couldn’t help but laugh too, even though I hated that she was right—maybe a small part of me was bothered.
Just a little... or maybe not
__________________
The morning started on a good note.. Bright and cool with a touch of freshness in the air.
Hair half tied and grocery list shoved in my back pocket as I locked the door behind me. The plan was simple—get milk, eggs, and a few things for dinner. Nothing dramatic, nothing complicated.
But of course, the universe had other plans.
Because right there, leaning casually against a black car parked at the curb, was him.
Chase.
For a second, I froze. He looked annoyingly composed, hands in his pockets, hair a little messy but still unfairly good-looking for someone who probably didn’t even try.
My eyes lingered for a few seconds too long before his head lifted and our eyes met.
That was enough to snap me back to reality.
“What are you doing here?” I asked, adjusting the strap of my bag like I wasn’t caught staring.
He straightened up, sliding one hand off his pocket. “I’m your taxi for the day.”
I blinked. “You’re my what?”
“Mariah said you’d be going grocery shopping,” he replied, his tone flat, like this was the most normal thing in the world.
I frowned and scoffed inwardly.
Great. Just Great.
“Oh, she did, huh?”
He nodded once.
“So she just told you to play chauffeur and you agreed?”
“She said you shouldn’t be walking around alone and I agree totally with her because the baby is at stake here" he said, almost like it was an order he had no choice but to follow.
I let out a short, humorless laugh.
“Right. So what’s this now? Are you stalking me on her behalf? Because if you are, you’re doing a terrible job at pretending it’s coincidental.”
He didn’t respond. He just stared for a moment, unreadable, then nodded toward the car.
“Get in.”
I crossed my arms. “No.”
His jaw tightened slightly.
“Zoey, get in the car.”
“Not happening,” I said, stepping away from the curb. “I can take care of myself. You don’t have to keep showing up like some—”
I didn’t even finish the sentence.
Because as I turned to walk off, a sharp honk blared from the street..loud, sudden.
Before I could react, an oncoming motorcycle swerved in my direction..too fast, too close.
My breath caught.