"Hey," Chase said. "You look nice." He gave me an up and down that made my cheeks heat.
"Thanks. You too."
He shrugged. "I know how to clean up." He gave me a wink.
My cheeks went volcanic.
Raley cleared his throat, and I noticed he was holding a bottle of wine. He handed it to Mom as she came from the kitchen. "It's vegan," he said and kissed her cheek.
"There's non-vegan wine?" I asked. "What else goes in the bottle beside grapes?
"Chase, so nice to see you again," she said, pointedly ignoring me.
"Thanks for the invitation, Mrs. Featherstone." He gave her a wide grin. "I'm really looking forward to dinner."
Fool.
"Hartley is always raving about your cooking," he continued.
Now he was laying it on too thick. She'd never believe that.
"Really?" Mom raised her eyebrow my way as if she knew full well that was a lie. But she gave Chase a polite smile anyway. "Well, why don't you three have a seat in the living room while I finish up in the kitchen."
"You sure you don't need any help?" Raley asked, looking about as eager as I felt to hang out together while Mom cooked.
"No, I'm fine. Dinner will just be a minute." Mom took the wine bottle into the kitchen, and I heard her uncorking it as the three of us stood there in the living room awkwardly. Chase shoved his hands into his pockets. Raley shifted from foot to foot. I felt stiff and like I suddenly didn't know what to do with my hands.
"Uh, so, Chase," Raley said, "you work on the school paper with Hartley?"
"That's right, sir."
Sir? I shot him a look.
"That's nice." Raley nodded. Then he gestured to the living room for us to sit.
I did, perching on the corner of the sofa while Raley took the armchair directly across. Chase started to sit in the center of the sofa, only a few inches from me, but he caught Raley's eye and quickly moved a couple of feet to his right, taking the other far corner.
"So, where do you live, Chase?" Raley asked.
"Off Cherry Blossom."
"Uh-huh. How long have you lived there?"
"About five years. Moved here in middle school."
"And you're a junior too?"
I rolled my eyes. What was this, an interrogation?
"Actually, I'm a senior, sir," Chase answered.
"A senior." Raley turned his gaze my way, something unreadable in it. "So, you're older than Hartley."
"By, like, a year," I said. "It's not a big deal."
"That year can turn into a big deal." Raley turned a hard eye on Chase. "Once you turn eighteen, you can get in all sorts of trouble for dating a girl a year younger."
I closed my eyes and thought a dirty word.
"I'm aware, sir," Chase said. To his credit, he kept a totally straight face.
"It's called statutory—"
"And we're moving on to a new subject!" I said. Maybe a little more loudly than I meant to, as both pairs of eyes turned my way. Raley's still held the hardness of a cop questioning a suspect. Chase's were twinkling with amusement.
Raley cleared his throat. "You have plans after graduation, Chase?"
Chase nodded. "Hoping to apply to the journalism program at UC Santa Cruz."
Raley nodded. "So, you're going to be a slug."
I scoffed. "Journalists are not slugs!" I said, coming to his defense. "I know you have a low opinion of the media in general, but Chase is a great editor. He's going to make a great journalist one day."
Raley turned a frown toward me. "I meant a banana slug. That's the UCSC mascot."
I shut my mouth with a click. "Oh." I looked to Chase, whose grin was positively bursting off his face with amusement now. "I didn't know that," I mumbled.
"But thanks for the compliment, Hart." Chase gave me a wink.
Raley narrowed his eyes at Chase.
I was pretty sure my cheeks were never going to go back to their normal color again.
Before my humiliation engulfed me in flames (I should be so lucky), Mom appeared in the archway. "The food is ready."
Thank goodness for small favors.
I jumped up from the sofa and made for the table so fast that I created a gust that ruffled the hem of her dress.
Mom had added a couple of lit candles and flowers to the center of the table, and I had to admit it looked pretty. A little too romancey but definitely inviting.
We took our seats—Raley across from Chase and Mom across from me—and Mom started serving slices of her version of "meat" loaf.
"Is that mac and cheese?" Chase asked, helping himself to a serving from the dish on the table.
"It is," Mom said, smiling proudly. "All plant based and gluten free."
Chase's hand faltered a bit on the way to his plate. "Plant based."
I leaned over and whispered to him. "It's potatoes, carrots, and nutritional yeast. No actual cheese was harmed in the making of this dish."
He stifled a laugh but bravely took a bite. To his credit, he didn't spit it back out. Maybe this meal wouldn't be a total disaster.
"So, Chase," Mom said, "I'm so happy you could make it this evening. Hartley tells me you are a hot commodity."
I nearly choked on a bite of plant based mush. "Mom!" I hissed.
She looked up. "What? You did say he's super busy," she said, all wide-eyed innocence.
Chase grinned beside me.
Heat flashed into my face, and I knew I was the color of the tomato glaze on top of the veggie loaf. Was she trying to give me
