Slumped while one of my cheeks rests in my hand, I don't look his way the entire time. He's beckoning me to give into his tested antics–five seconds of summer playing on the stereo, a bag of curly fries on the space behind the gear, and a drive through that stretch of tree canopy I love. It's a well laid trap, I'd give him that, but nothing's going to favour him today.

"Come on, Leia, you've got to talk to me sometime. At least look at me."

I don't. My eyes stay glued to the dipping horizon, watching the sky die itself into a blend of pink and muted orange. The only way he's getting my attention is if there's a tsunami heading our way, or an equivalent of the same in the form of a text on his phone. I stiffen at the notification sound, turning to look before he can reach out for it and meddle. My face ashens, a shooting pain erupting in my chest and enveloping my whole body as I read it. "I can't believe you. So this is what you do with my trust, take it and throw my naïveté in my face."

"Leia, no, it's not like that. I can explain this, I–what are you doing?"

I begin pulling at the handles to let myself out of the running car, closing myself to him chanting my name and solely focused on the dripping of tears obscuring my vision. There's no way he can stop, for we're on a freeway now, but I'm stubborn to not spend a minute more breathing the same air as he is, which forces him to reach out to me.

"No!" I wake up with a jolt, shaken to my bones until the change of scenery makes me settle and make sense of the events. Chase's voice is the first thing I allow myself to recognise, after the salty fragrance of the sea. 

"Hey, what happened?" Concerned, he looks at me, figuring whether to lend me an arm as I flinch at the mere sound of a bike razing past us.

"A bad dream, that's all." I've memorised the words to my heart, so there's no chance I'm stumbling now. Although, the deepening of his baby blues puts up a great fight while at it. "How long did I sleep for?" I ask, for the time I'd begun drifting off, we'd barely left Amsterdam and now we're at some beach town it seems, from the emerald green bordering us, and the streets bustling with people in board shorts, carrying six packs and lathered in sand from their knees down.

"Five hours or so, not much," he shrugs, doing little to hide the sarcasm dripping off of his words. "We're at Hart's now, so I figured we can take a stop and eat before heading again."

The way he says it all, tells he's more familiar with this route and the pit stops than I presumed. Hart's, huh. It's a little over six and I won't mind a meal after staying on a tall  cold brew for over half of the day, so my gaze drifts off to the little restaurant shacks peppered along the road ahead of us. "What about that one? Looks pretty," I point and Chase follows my lead to the farther most aqua walled mansion, with a huge light wood board saying 'Carrio's cafe' outside.

"Sure, why not," Chase drives off to the place, dirty white gates flung open and a few people scurried outside. We park and head inside, directed by the woman at the counter to the first storey. It's only when I'm all the way up, that the view and a fond realisation that we're facing the  sea, comes along with a light breeze. "Woah," Chase comes behind, the release of his breath after the sharp intake fanning on my exposed neck.

"Let's go inside," I step away, and he falls onto my side, while I hope there's no unusual pink on my face to give away the trepidation.

We're at the corner most table, barely a few feet away from the water splattering over us as occasional waves hit the surface of the black rocks below. "What do you feel like ordering ?" Chase asks, and I begin looking at the menu until my eyes land on the little blackboard in the corner, with specials of the day written in beautiful cursive over the slate. "The mustard fettuccini sounds interesting," he mumbles after observing me flicker at all the different options.

There's nothing wrong with experimenting. The words come flying off the unwanted journal in my head, only bereft of that voice.

"No, I'd rather stick to something familiar." So I pick a BLT and a peach iced tea to wash it with, while Chase, instantly replying to the waiter before he can even offer him something else, goes for a 'Rocky road ice cream." Both of us gaze at him with bated breath, until realising that's his whole order. Just three scoops of Rocky road.

I spare him my judgement, but he goes on to speak anyway, his eyes drifted down and a lazy finger circling the border on the ceramic plate, "when I was a kid, there was this little ice cream shop a few blocks away from our house in Vancouver. It wasn't anything special, in fact they had only five flavours or so to offer on any day." Intently listening like it's a bed time story being narrated to me, i rest my chin on my arms, hunched over the table. "One of those flavours was Rocky road. I picked it the first time I went along with my Dad to the shop, and it was the best ice cream in the world. At least to me it was, almost like I'd stumbled upon a gold mine." A faint imagery of a young freckled Chase, hopping over the counter to look at the ice creams, makes me involuntarily smile."So ever since the visit, I made it a ritual to go with my dad to that ice cream shop every other week, just for that amazing Rocky road." It seems like it's the end of it, but the sudden shade over his face tells there's more, and I can't ignore the itch, wanting him to put the frown on his face to words. "Now that I look back, it wasn't as much about the ice cream as it was about spending time with him. Running to swings on the park, playing soccer after, and all the shit a five year old's into," he doesn't let the weight pull him down, the glassiness of his eyes fading away quickly.

I run out of words. Not because I don't have a response for him, but because I've never looked back at something of my own and felt this way. I realise I've been so busy with etching paragraphs on pages, I forgot to look up every once in a while. "I'm sorry, that was heavy," He chuckles, scratching the back of his neck, visibly ruffled.

"It wasn't. And not that it has to do anything with it, but five year old Chase sounds adorable. What happened after?"

"Alright, very clever. Taste of my own medicine, yeah." We share a light laugh, and later our meals, as I stand impressed by the fudgey ice cream. Meanwhile, a waitress comes along to offer and entice us with their summer cocktail curation, but we politely refuse. I assume he refrains because we have a rather big drive ahead, but am glad anyway.

We head out soon, but as I am by the stairs I realise he's nowhere to be seen in the vicinity. Walking back, I find him at our table, eyeing the glittering sea and the wide expanse of sand beneath, lost in observation. I don't think he's aware of my presence beside, until there's a slight shift of weight between his feet. I forgot again.

"It's beautiful, isn't it?" Sighing, he doesn't take his gaze away and instead I join, revelling in the silence, wondering what it'd be like at the shore.

"It's a shame we can't swim, though," I say, chuckling and waiting for a 'yes' from his side. Only it never comes. "Chase," I draw it out, meaning it to be a warning, for I can see the wheels of his brain rotate and scheme– a rather scary sight for me after the jazz incident.

"Who says we can't," he walks ahead, forcing me along as well, because for all I know, he might end up banging his head to a wall if left alone too long. He leads us to a little board walk like structure past the dining of the cafe, halting at the very edge of it. The deep waters greet us from down below– nothing but the creaky timber separating us from the sea at the moment. "What'd you say? It will be fun."

"For you," I scoff, trying to avert the nausea rising up my throat as I continue looking down and realise the actual height we're at. "This is plain stupid, Chase, even for you. So can we just go?"

"Life's too short, Leia. You'll regret passing this up someday."

"Gladly, now can we leave?" I pull the flailing straps of my hand bag to my shoulders, stomping down the bridge until he shouts over the wind, blatantly bribing me.

"If you take the leap, we'll go meet some of my friends in Spain, who've got a bunch of embarrassing stories about me." Huh. The guy knows how to hook, but I'm not falling so easy.

"How embarrassing are we talking?"

"Worse than when I'd wet myself on the plane, and more." The bait's sure attractive, bordering on lucrative enough to grab the deal even.

I turn back, walking over to him with slight hesitance and a whole lot of deter. "If this turns out to be false, you'll be murdered at my hands and buried in Barcelona. Agree?"

"Agreed." Shaking hands over it, we strip down and carefully toss our clothes over to a spot on the stretch of  white sand, away from the clawing water's reach. I fidget with the buckle of my silver watch, blind to anything but the gleam of its dial until he speaks up.

"Shocking pink's your colour," the statement, puzzling to me at first, becomes clearer as I notice the matching set I'm wearing. Still turned around, but now feeling the heat of his gaze on me, the idea of jumping down and going amiss in the deep blue sea doesn't seem so horrifying anymore.

Easier said than done, I shuffle in a place, seldom not believing I'm up to something like this.

"You were right, this is somewhat scary," Chase murmurs, one of his thick eyebrows quirking as he tries to map the distance it seems.

Oh, you're not not getting out of this now, Bucko. "Let's find out." A slight nudge and he's off the bridge, with me following along. Our collective screaming is muffled by the wind's current, dying down when we've landed under–  vision all black until I swim back up to release my breath.

"You're evil," he accuses, pushing wet strands of hair away from his forehead as he swims up to me. Hovering above my frame, given his height, he tips my chin up to level our gazes. "Not that I mind."

A knowingly smile on our faces, noses brushing, and my arms interlocked around his neck– the moment's crafted to perfection, with our lips mere inches apart when a bolt of lightning crashes in the sky. Before we can, onto each other.

A clear sky turned grey within seconds, probably baffling to weather reporters all over the world, makes Chase Cameron laugh. "Why am I not surprised." His sly reference to the universe's whims when we're together, seems about right.

I mirror his thoughts, shaking my head while we look at the bright flashes tease us as they come and go.

Unfortunate, but we'll make up for it.

This chapter was brought to you by Sabrina Carpenter's beautiful new single, Skinny Dipping.

Humour aside, I'll try and stick to the weekly update schedule on Saturdays. Until then if you liked this chapter, please leave your thoughts in the comments section. Happy reading until then!