chapter fifteen

meghan

I would have been beating Xander by a much wider margin if it weren’t for Poppy, the bar owner, announcing her retirement after decades of service in Woodvale. She wanted to sell the place to new owners who would promise to keep things the same. But if she couldn’t find someone who felt like the right fit, her family was going to shutter the place for good.

Jillian and Xander snatched up the story the second they caught wind of it. It ran the Monday after my Lenny article, and Xander was only trailing me by two subscriptions the following morning.

On the plus side, my count kept growing. Over the past two days, Graham had been entering the newsroom every couple of hours to add a couple of tallies below my name.

“And that, my friend, is how you create viral content,” I said to Xander, who was staring at the chalkboard with his hands on his hips.

“Bask in it while you can, because you’re going to be eating my dust in a few weeks.”

“Yeah? What are you cooking up?”

With a brief glance at the ceiling, Xander said, “It’s confidential. But it’s going to send this town into a frenzy.”

“Xander, the new bike lane on Hartwell Street sent this town into a frenzy, so that’s not really saying much.” I picked up my ever-growing stack of notebooks from the conference table, dropping them into my bag. Something about the confident look in Xander’s eyes told me not to doubt him—and it reminded me not to let my guard down. “Just stay out of trouble, alright?”

“Never.”

I gave him the stern look of an ashamed mother, or at least a disappointed older sister, before I left the newsroom. Chase and I were heading out to interview a tattoo artist who’d just appeared on a few episodes of a tattoo competition show on TLC. Now that the episode in which she got voted out had aired, she could give us the scoop about what really happened behind the scenes.

Mae just happened to be my go-to tattoo artist, so naturally, the story was my idea. Her woman-run, cottagecore-themed shop went against the norm in the best way. Entering it was like inhaling a breath of fresh air.

Fresh, weed-scented air.

“Hey,” Mae called out from the back of the shop, elongating the word in a casual, sleepy way. Her pink and orange pigtails reminded me of the sherbet I ate when I was a kid. She looked past me at Chase, who was spinning in a slow circle at the center of the shop, probably assessing the lighting situation and planning where to set up. “Do you sense any paranormal activity in here?”

Chase whipped around to face her, casting a quick glance in my direction before asking, “Why, have you seen something?”

“I wish,” Mae answered with a laugh. She grinned at him from the other side of the jewelry display case, resting her hands on the glass. “No, I just recognize you from your vlog. You and Sean are hilarious.”

Oh, brother. Chase shifted the backpack on his shoulder with a nervous laugh. I withheld the teasing comment on the tip of my tongue, realizing this might have been the first time he encountered a real, live fan of his vlog. “Tell that to the guy who’s been leaving us all the hate comments,” Chase said, taking a few steps toward her.

Mae laughed, lifting a hand to play with the end of one of her pigtails. “Hey, you know you’ve made it when you’ve got haters, right?”

Were they flirting? Mae and I had only known each other for a couple of years, so she had no way of knowing Chase was my ex. They kept talking about Chase’s YouTube channel, and their exchange was innocuous enough.

Mae turned to me with raised eyebrows. “Did you see the one where they got stranded in the pond?”

“Yeah,” I said, reaching up to adjust my bangs. “That’s why you don’t trust Sean with a paddle.”

Mae laughed, but I turned my attention toward Chase, whose eyes were locked on me with a look of awe. I tilted my head to the side in subtle confusion, until I realized I’d just accidentally revealed I’d watched one of his videos.

boat video was their most popular upload, and I simply watched it out of curiosity a couple nights ago with Wanda curled up on my lap. It didn’t mean anything. Judging from Chase’s wide-eyed expression, however, it meant a lot.

I glanced down at the notebook in my hands. “Well, Chase, do you want to get set up and interview Mae on camera first?”

He blinked, as if coming back to reality. “Right, yeah. Let’s get started.”

Chase began his segment of the interview with his usual casual charm, and Mae seemed to eat it right up. She laughed a lot, getting more relaxed as the questions went on. Her tone was light and playful as she leaned against the jewelry display case, completely at ease.

Mae spilled some secrets about what it was like working with the TLC crew, choosing her words carefully so she wouldn’t break the terms of her non-disclosure agreement. Chase covered almost everything I needed for my write-up, so besides just a few clarifying questions from me, the entire interview was short and sweet. I photographed Mae in front of the ivy wall near the windows, and I had a pretty good feeling about this story drawing people in.

Eat it, Xander.

“Hey, when am I going to get you in here to do a full sleeve, girl?” she asked, eyeing my bare forearms, which probably looked like blank canvases to her. I was the one who’d been hemming and hawing about expanding my sleeves at my last three appointments with her, but I had yet to make the commitment. Mae, resting her elbows on the counter and her chin on her hands, watched Chase pack up his equipment as she waited for my response.

“Oh, one of these days,” I answered with a half-smile. Like her, I watched Chase fold up the legs of his tripod, oblivious to the two women staring at him as he whistled the Avengers theme song to himself. Having removed his blazer, his muscular biceps were peeking out from the sleeves of his gray t-shirt. I knew he owned a set of dumbbells that probably still collected dust, so the muscles must have come from schlepping around all this camera equipment day after day.

Mae turned to me and whispered, “He looks a little bit like Clark Kent, doesn’t he?”

I rolled my eyes, feeling the urge to vehemently agree, but I held myself back. “Oh God, don’t say that too loud. He’ll let it get to his head.”

When Mae let out a soft giggle, Chase finally looked up from zipping his bag, glancing from me to her in confusion. “Am I missing something?”

“Just girl talk,” I said on my way to the door. I pushed the bar with my hip. “Ready to go, Clark?”

“What?” I took pleasure in the nervous way he tugged at the bottom of his t-shirt, glancing at Mae like she might offer an explanation. But she just shrugged with a grin.

“Let me know when you’re ready for more ink, Meghan, and I’ll get you on my books,” she said. “Thanks for coming by. Both of you.”

Chase gave her a nod. “Thanks for your time.”

“Yeah, no problem. I’ll try to take care of the haters in your comments for you, alright?” She was fidgeting with the ends of her pigtails again.

“Appreciate it,” Chase answered with an awkward laugh, barely looking at her. He had no clue. None. It was all I could do not to give him a shove as we made our way to his car—he absolutely had a chance with that woman, but he squandered it.

“What is wrong with you?” I asked him from the opposite side of the car, waiting for him to find his keys in his pocket to unlock it.

“What? What do you mean?” He looked over the roof of the car at me in a full-blown panic. “Did I say something stupid?”

“You could’ve gotten her number.”

“Who, Mae’s?” He glanced past me at the facade of the tattoo parlor, where the window was decorated with painted mushrooms that matched Mae’s artistic style. “I don’t think so.”

“Uh, I think so,” I said, pulling the passenger door open after I heard it unlock. “She was flirting with you.”

“She was being polite.”

“No, she’s attracted to you. Trust me, okay? I can tell.”

He shook his head. “No.” That was it. Just… no. Neither of us got in the car, just staring at each other over the top of it instead. Some small part of me was disappointed for Chase’s sake, knowing he probably could have asked Mae to come along on his next ghost hunt. She would’ve said “yes” in a heartbeat.

But another, smaller part of me—a minuscule, microscopic part—was glad he didn’t have enough game to notice the attention she was giving him. “You’re probably right. She’s not your type anyway. You couldn’t pull a girl like that,” I muttered, finally getting into my seat. I dropped my bag between my feet on the floorboard and checked my bangs in the mirror, not at all surprised at the X-men comic that fell from his visor when I opened it.

Chase leaned through his open driver door. “‘Not my type’?” he scoffed. “She’s, like, the pastel version of you. And I pulled you once upon a time, didn’t I?”

I slowly turned my head toward him. “That was before my frontal lobe was fully developed.”

After a slow inhale, Chase asked, “Has Mae’s frontal lobe fully developed?”

“She’s twenty-six, so I would say so, yes.” I stared into his eyes, daring him to do something about it. But he wouldn’t. “It’s not like you’re going to ask her out.”

“Wanna bet?” His nostrils flared.

“If you do, it just might be the first time you’ve ever taken a risk in your life. I’d be shocked.” I was calling his bluff, and he was calling mine. For a few seconds, he kept his eyes locked on my face, still just leaning his upper body into the car. And then, giving the metal frame a couple taps with his key, he dropped his things into the driver seat and slammed the door, walking back to the tattoo parlor empty-handed.

Oh my God. Was he really going to do it? I angled my body to see him better, wishing the woodland scene on the windows wasn’t blocking my view of what was happening inside. I couldn’t see them.

What was taking so long?

I pulled out Fannie’s journal to distract myself, but I couldn’t focus. What if Mae and Chase started dating for real? Would she feel differently about him if she knew he was my ex? Should I warn her about his tendency to leave his dirty socks in every room?

When the door of the tattoo shop opened, I tried to act as casual as possible so as not to seem like I’d been watching for him to return. Chase opened the door and tossed his stuff in the backseat, letting out a heavy sigh as he sat down. In his hand, there was a little white card. I followed it with my eyes as he tucked it into the visor with the comic book.

Like I wasn’t going to check? Without hesitation, I pulled out the card and flipped it over. “Wait,” I said, turning it over again. “There’s no phone number on this. It’s an appointment card.”

“I know. I made an appointment.”

“You went in there and… made an appointment?” I stared down at the card in disbelief. Sure enough, there was a date on it in Mae’s loopy, cursive handwriting, the ‘i’ in April dotted with a heart.

“Yup,” Chase answered, pulling his seatbelt over his chest.

“Chase. You’ve never gotten a tattoo before.”

“Nope.”

I expelled air from my mouth in a quiet chuckle. “Why the hell are you doing this?”

He shrugged with one shoulder as he started the car, and I couldn’t help but notice the way he wouldn’t look at me at all as we pulled away from the curb. “I guess I chickened out.”

I threw my head back and laughed at the insanity of being so afraid to ask a woman for her number that you book a tattoo appointment with her instead. Only Chase. It was actually kind of cute, in a way. “Are you going to go through with it?”

“I might,” he said, shaking his head at himself. “Maybe I’ll get a little ghost or something.”

“You’re ridiculous.” My cheeks hurt from smiling.

“Maybe a sick haunted house.”

I only giggled in response, shaking my head.

“Maybe…” Chase paused, licking his lips. “Maybe I’ll get a luna moth on my chest to match yours.”

He glanced at my chest for a fraction of a second, probably remembering every detail of the moth tattoo just under my breasts, having been one of the few people to have the privilege of laying eyes on it. My face suddenly felt warm.

“Sorry,” he rushed out, as though he shouldn’t have mentioned it. Chase could probably see he’d made me blush. He swallowed, wiping his palm on his jeans. “Will you go with me when I do it?”

“But you won’t be able to flirt with Mae if I’m there.”

“I don’t want to.”

I chewed on my bottom lip, rubbing my thumbs together on my lap. “Are you sure you wouldn’t rather have your buddy Sean there to hold your hand?”

He shot me a dirty look.

“Okay, I’ll go,” I laughed out. I wanted to question why he wanted me, of all people, to go with him. I could only assume it was because of my connection with Mae and my experience getting inked up. However, this was the second time in the past week he’d asked me to do something outside of our work responsibilities with him. Were we actually mature enough now to be friends? I stared at his face as he drove—that indention on his chin, his unfairly long eyelashes, and the lips that used to feel like home to me. “But I’m going to be mean to you the whole time,” I added.

A grin stretched across Chase’s face, making the corners of his eyes crinkle behind his glasses. “Good. I wouldn’t expect anything less.”

Chase was so cute at that moment, I had to force myself to look away. It was really annoying, the way he kept making me feel so damn attracted to him against my will. Before I could even begin to grapple with these new emotions, my phone buzzed in my lap.

Graham: Hey, come back to the newsroom ASAP. We need to talk about the fallout from your Lenny article.

“What the hell does that mean?” I whispered aloud, angling my phone toward Chase so he could read the text himself.

“Fallout?” He lifted his eyebrows, looking me in the eyes. “What fallout?”

We didn’t have to wonder for long, because another message from Graham popped up.

Graham: And for the sake of your mental health, stay off of the Concerned Citizens of Woodvale group.