So much for calm and serenity.
After her rather-longer-than-expected walk along the beach, Polly returned to the house and changed out of her sneakers and fleece jacket into jeans and slippers, and tugged her hair into a high ponytail before cooking herself an easy pasta dinner, willing herself not to look out the window for Jack or Chase every minute and a half.
An hour later, the dishes were done, she had managed to make a so-so fire in the fireplace, but the merlot was also helping to warm her up – the furnace repairman wasn’t due to arrive until tomorrow. She had cranked on the radio for company while she was washing dishes, and now found herself free forming her spatula as a microphone, belting out an old Journey tune, even shaking her hips and dancing across the family room floor – it might not be ‘Risky Business’, but she had some moves to show off the coyotes outside…
She had always loved to dance, despite her geektitude, but Matthew abhorred it, so it had been years since she had gone dancing in college, or since the two of them had taken a turn on the dance floor. She thought they had danced a couple of slow dances at their wedding, but that was really it before or since…
‘Johnny Hates Jazz’ cranked on to the 80s flashback station, and Polly belted out lyrics she hadn’t heard in probably fifteen years, even throwing in a few hip thrusts and head bangs, despite the tone of the song.
She just felt... loose. Like she’d been cut free of some restraint holding her back, and it felt great to act silly and dance around, knowing there wasn’t exactly a street full of neighbors to judge her every, albeit rusty, move.
She took another sip of merlot, and then froze in place when Poison’s ‘Something to Believe In’ came through the speakers, and suddenly she was transported back in time…
She squeezed her eyes shut, trying to deny the memory that had surfaced the minute Chase had arrived on her porch, but the song just brought it right back to the forefront.
It had been graduation weekend for Chase and all the other seniors, and Rick Cashman had thrown a huge party on his family’s beach, complete with a bonfire, booze and tons and tons of people from school. Polly had gone at Parker’s insistence, and ended up having a great time hanging out with everyone, though her eyes strayed to track Chase’s every move more than she cared to admit.
He must have been watching her too, because eventually he came over, threw an arm around Parker, and began talking about how much he loved both of them – how he was going to miss them – how great they had been to him since they were kids…
His speech might have been a little slurred, but his sentiment seemed true enough. A Poison song had come over the radio of someone’s backed up F-150, and Chase had grabbed Polly for a slow dance, right there in the firelight on the beach. She knew he would have danced with anyone that night, but she convinced herself he had picked her. He had held her close, so close, and smelled sooooo good…
After that, Chase hadn’t let go of her hand for one minute as they made the rounds, seniors congratulating each other and high fiving, and girls exchanging tearful ‘we’ll stay in touch, right?!’ cries. After an hour or two, Chase pulled Polly close and whispered in her ear, giving her a full body shiver.
“Let’s get out of here,” he’d said, and like the love struck girl she was, she had followed him.
Chase’s truck was parked away from the party, down an abandoned mining road that led right to the water’s edge, the bed of the truck facing the waves. Polly was grateful when Chase bypassed the driver’s seat – he was in no condition to drive – and instead spread a blanket in the bed of the truck, giving her a gentlemanly hand up into the bed.
They had sat, propped against the cab, fingers intertwined and talking for what felt like hours, but in reality was probably more like minutes. Polly’s heart was pounding of her chest, and then exploded into a million stars when Chase leaned over and gently, softly, pressed his lips to hers.
“You’re special, red,” he’d whispered, tugging her into his waiting arms, and sliding them horizontal, his lips pressed against the skin of her neck, her collarbone, her earlobe, his hand exploring her body first on top of, then below, her clothes.
Polly couldn’t believe it was happening – she’d had boyfriends before, but none of them had gone this far, at her insistence. But this was Chase Colton, the boy who had owned her heart since she was eight years old… and now he really wanted her.
Their lovemaking, to her seventeen year old mind, was as romantic and blissful as was possible, her heart exploding with undeniable emotion: Chase Colton had picked her, and she had decided he would be her first. And it was PERFECT.
With fifteen years experience, Polly realized now the entire production was brief, a bit sloppy, and more than a little chilly in the bed of a truck. She still thought of that night with raw emotion and would always think of Chase with heightened feeling because of his status as her first, but she wondered now that they had reconnected…
Did Chase even remember that night?
He hadn’t blushed or made any snide remarks when they were reunited yesterday. He hadn’t given her any ‘nudge nudge, wink wink’ overtures… did Chase honestly not remember WHO he had taken into the bed of his truck that night?
With ringing clarity, Polly suddenly realized: probably not.
What had been romantic and life altering to her was probably just another drunken Saturday night for newly minted bad boy Chase Colton.
Oh god. She was never, never going to remind him of it. Better for her to bear the humiliation of being forgotten on her own, than have to sit through a tortured conversation of ‘of course I remembered, baby, best night of my life’, which would so clearly be a lie.
Yup: deny, deny, deny. That night never happened.
Polly finished her glass, put it on the coffee table, and air guitared to a little Foreigner for good measure.
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