23. Chandler

TWENTY-THREE

chandler

"Are you okay?" I asked Willow, watching closely as she stood on the back patio, chugging her drink.

She gave a short nod then sighed. "Yeah, Chandler, I'm sorry. I know it's your brother and it's weird, but it’s annoying when he gives girls like that attention. He can do so much better."

My eyes narrowed slightly at her words. I was trying to figure out why she was so upset. "He deserves better, as in someone like you?" I asked, gently.

She hesitated before speaking. "I don't know... maybe. I guess… maybe I do still have feelings for him," she confessed, covering her face.

"Okay," I grimaced playfully, trying to lighten the mood. "Not gonna lie, it's kind of gross how you could see him in that way, but I get it." I paused, considering her situation with a more serious demeanor. "I think you should tell him, though."

Her eyes widened slightly. "You think so?"

"Yeah," I affirmed with a nod. "Trust me, he's not the sharpest crayon in the box—I’m sure he has no idea."

A small laugh escaped her, the tension in her shoulders easing slightly. "I'll think about it," she promised, and I could tell she meant it.

"Good." I grinned. "The look on her face when you took that shot was pretty funny, though."

"Wasn't it?" Willow chuckled, shaking her head. "She looked like she was going to murder me."

The laughter and excitement from our group was starting to get out of control. I watched as Parker made his way out onto the back patio to join us, choosing the seat right next to Willow.

"Word on the street is that I have some fans admiring my... assets in uniform," Parker teased.

"Please," Willow scoffed. “I heard it was actually the umpire they were admiring.”

Parker chuckled, then turned to her with a tilted head and a half-smirk. "Just admit you check me out. You notice the goods every time I bend over. Don’t you?"

Willow rolled her eyes but couldn’t hold back a smile as she said, “I will admit nothing.”

"We both know the truth, Sunshine," Parker replied with a small smile. He scooted just a bit closer to her, their shoulders nearly touching.

"Don't let it go to your head," she teased.

Caroline and her friends had joined us and started a game of truth or dare, eager to stir up some excitement, no doubt. The last time Caroline dared me to do something, it ended in me giving Bailey a lap dance, but it also was the reason Boston kissed me for the first time. They took turns, daring and challenging each person with something ridiculous and soon everyone was roped into the antics.

"Okay, Crew, your turn!" Caroline announced with a devilish grin. "I dare you to show a butt cheek to the girl sitting at that table over there!" She pointed dramatically at a nearby table where a group of girls sat, chatting to each other, oblivious of our antics.

Annoyance spread across Crew's face, but he lifted his tall and slender body up from his chair with a heavy roll of his eyes. A collective hush fell over the crowd as anticipation mounted.

"Fine, but y'all better get a good look," Crew huffed, and in one swift motion he turned and flashed a single butt cheek toward the innocent bystanders. The response was instantaneous—screams and cheers erupted from the targeted table.

"Of course you’d get that response, Crew!" someone shouted across the laughter, and it was true. I don’t think anyone could be mad at that view.

The game spiraled on, dares escalating with each turn.

"Alright, alright, settle down!" Sam, one of Caroline's friends called out, giggling. "Who's next? Bailey!"

“You know I always take the dare, babydoll!” he said, taking a sip of his drink.

“Dare you to try to get the hot bartender's phone number,” she said with a devilish grin.

Bailey stood up from his seat, a smile spread across his face. The group watched as he disappeared into the bar. Moments later, he emerged, phone held high.

"Got them digits, baby!" Bailey shouted, winking at the round of applause that greeted him.

It wasn't long before Caroline's mischievous eyes landed on me.

"Chandler, truth or dare?" she asked with a daring smirk.

"Truth," I straightened my posture.

"Who do you like more, Reese or Boston?" Her question hung in the air, halting any chatter or laughter.

I felt every eye turn to me, their stares weighing me down. Boston paused mid-sip, while Reese narrowed his eyes at Caroline.

"Caroline, stop," Reese said sharply.

"What? What's the problem?" Caroline feigned innocence, but her eyes gleamed with something else. "Didn't you hook up with Reese last summer? How far did you get? First base? Second? Did you go all the way?"

"Caroline!" Boston growled, raw and loaded with anger. "What the fuck?"

“What’s the matter, Boston? Was she doing the same thing with you?” Caroline retorted.

I couldn't take it anymore. The weight of their stares, the whispers–it was too much. Wordlessly, I pushed back from the table and walked away, my footsteps quick and purposeful. I could hear Willow and Parker getting into it with Caroline but I was already gone, tears falling down my face as I leaned over the railing of the staircase that led to the lake. Alone in the dark, I allowed the tears to escape, tracing silent paths down my cheek.

The night air brushed against my skin, but it was Boston's presence that soothed me.

"Hey," he said softly, his arm finding its way around my waist. "Don't let her get to you."

I scoffed, a bitter laugh escaping me despite the tears that threatened to spill over again. "How am I supposed to not let it get to me? She’s right." My voice cracked, and I hated how vulnerable I sounded. "Last summer Reese and I did do something."

"Chandler," Boston interrupted, his tone gentle yet firm. "You have nothing to be ashamed of. I mean obviously I don't want to hear about you and him, but..." he paused, his hand squeezed me tighter. "I have a past too. We all do."

"But Boston, doesn't that matter to you? He's your brother."

He shook his head. "No, that doesn't matter to me. You matter to me."

I turned to face him, his ocean blue eyes holding an intensity that made my heart skip. "But Boston, I?—"

He cut me off with a shake of his head, his gaze never leaving mine. "Chandler, this is my fault. You have to know that. I didn’t step up when I should have. I held back. It was all me."

My mouth opened to protest, but he continued before I could get any words out.

"Just let me own the past, okay? It was me pushing you away, I basically held the door open for you to walk right to him." His fingers brushed against my cheek in a slow, tender motion. "But the future... the future could be ours."

And in that moment, in the dark evening with the lake silently witnessing us, I absorbed the gravity of Boston's words. I found myself momentarily speechless, caught in the tangle of emotions that he had unraveled. He always looked out for me, protected me—and here he was, doing it again.

"I don't understand. I don't deserve the way you always take care of me, the way you always save me. You've been doing it since we were kids. Even the first time we ever met, and you didn't even know me."

Boston chuckled. "No, Chandler, you have it all wrong." His hand reached up to gently tuck a loose strand of hair behind my ear. "The moment I saw you, you saved me."

My pulse raced, every one of my senses dialed to his proximity, to the earnestness in his voice.

"I was a kid who spent the whole day watching my mom cry; she held it together around other people, but she let it out with me. And I was used to putting together some kind of meal for her that was probably like potato chips and ketchup. I was always so worried about her..." He shook his head, and then he spoke again. "And then there you were, the most beautiful thing I had ever seen. You gave me hope for the first time. You were a bright light in the darkness, and from that moment on, I always hoped that you would be my girlfriend one day."

I felt the tears trying to surface again.

"So the bracelet you gave me," Boston continued, a sheepish yet soft smile on his lips, "I'll never take it out of my glove. It's what reminds me of you. It’s my hope, my luck—hopefully my future, everything."

Tears blurred my vision as my emotions surged, overwhelming and raw. Here was Boston Riley, laying bare his soul. And the worst part about it was that each time Caroline tried to embarrass me with this stupid game, it somehow ended up bringing us closer together.

"Fuck," I whispered. ”What are you doing to me?" I knew at that moment, this whole trying not to fall for anyone this summer thing was crumbling—shattering, even.

Lifting my chin gently with his fingers, he met my gaze steadily. "I can't stand you crying," he said, his tone earnest and filled with emotion that made my heart swell.

With a calloused thumb, he wiped away a tear that had fallen down my cheek. Then he placed a gentle kiss on the other side of my face, removing another.

Without hesitation, I kissed him, our lips colliding. The kiss was different from any we'd shared before—gentle, but more intense. Boston's hand cradled my face tenderly as our lips and tongues moved at a pace that was both new and familiar. My hands found their way to his hair, the wavy strands slipping through my fingers like golden threads as I pulled him closer. Nothing else mattered in this moment— there was no more Caroline drama, no worries about what others thought, no barriers between us. Just Boston and me and the feelings I was finally allowing myself to explore.