Childhood Lovers

Childhood Lovers. 5

We spent the remainder of the walk laughing, chatting, and catching up. Chase talked about his boarding school, and how his dad hasn't been feeling well. I talked about my high school, and how my parents don't sleep in the same bed anymore. He talked about his job as a lifeguard, and I talked about my job as a guitar teacher. He talked about how a lot of his friends have been getting in trouble; I talked about how a lot of my friends were turning into whores.

One of the greatest things about our friendship was our communication. We told each other everything, just as we used to. Of course, the topics were more complex and mature now, but it was nice to know we still had that connection. Unlike every other guy I knew, I felt comfortable and secure with Chase.

"Oh, we're almost there! Close your eyes," Chase said. "I want this to be a little bit of a surprise."

"If I can't see, there's a good chance I will walk into something and seriously injure myself." It took me a few years to finally accept the fact that I was a Grade-A klutz.

"Don't worry, I'll lead you," Chase said. I closed my eyes, and felt Chase wrap his arm around me to lead the way. "No peeking."

As any normal kids would, Chase and I played Hide and Seek on a daily basis. However, after numerous occasions, Chase had to become the permanent seeker because I had the habit of opening my eyes and peeking.

As if I was a puppet, Chase moved my body and directed me safely to our destination. I was almost sad when it was over, because I loved feeling his body pressed up against mine.

Was it wrong of me to be so attracted and interested in my best friend? No matter how hard I tried to suppress my feelings, they just kept rising to the surface. I knew I didn't want to screw up what we had, so I had to constantly remind myself that we were just friends . . .

"Ready? One, two, three - open."

There we stood, at the entrance of the famous Santa Monica Pier - home to restaurants, bars, shops, an aquarium, and a Ferris wheel.

"Chase, this is amazing!"

"I'm glad you like it, Ace. Come on, we've got a lot to do," he said, taking my hand.

We glided along the pier, listening to the music that drifted out of restaurants, and glancing in stores to see if they had anything interesting.

"So, what should we do first? Ferris wheel or dinner?" Chase asked.

"Oh, tough decision. I'm going to say . . . Ferris wheel."

Since it was still a little light out still, the Ferris wheel line wasn't too bad, so Chase and I jumped in line. It was actually perfect timing, because we got to see the sun beginning to set over the ocean, painting the sky with colors of purple, orange, pink, and red.

"Do you remember that year when we went to the Memorial Day Fair together, and you got sick on the Ferris wheel? I swear, you could see hints of cotton candy in the vomit," Chase said, laughing at the memory.

"Hey! At least I wasn't the one who puked up all his Twizzlers on the drive home from Hersey Park," I rebutted. Two could play at that game.

Chase's cheeks blushed with embarrassment. "To this day, I still get really car sick."

"It takes a real man to admit his weaknesses," I joked.

"I gotta be a big, strong real man for my lady," he joked back, flashing his arm muscles.

If only it wasn't a joke, if only I was his lady . . .

"What's wrong?" Chase asked, snapping me out of my wish list. "You're not feeling sick from the ride, are you?"

"What? Oh no, I'm fine."

"Good," he said with relief. "Hey, maybe it's a good thing we didn't eat first. I'd rather you not puke up the delicious dinner I bought you."

"It was one time!" I said, exasperated.

"Okay," Chase said, with a devious smile.

After the ride ended, we decided to grab dinner. Chase led us to a restaurant called the Sandy Shell. The place was so packed, that the waiting line was out the door.

"Uhh, Chase? Did you make a reservation?"

"Nah," he said, before forcefully pushing past the people in line.

"Maybe we should go somewhere else," I called, trying to keep up with him. He didn't respond, so I assumed he didn't hear me. After saying "excuse me" and "sorry" about a billion times, I caught up to Chase who was at the hostess' desk.

"Right this way, Mr. Levine," she said, slipping two menus into her hand.

Lagging behind her, I asked, "How did you get us seated without a reservation? Judging from the size of that line, it must be like a forty minute wait."

"Let's just say, I'm pretty tight with the boss."

The hostess sat us at an outside table, with a view of the ocean, extending all the way down the Pacific Coastline. By now, the sun always almost gone, leaving a smoky effect with vague hints of remaining orange. The only word that could describe it was perfection.  

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