She kept her eyes forward but held up her hand, flipping him off, and he clucked his tongue as he started the car.
“First a curse word, and now an obscene hand gesture? I’m appalled.”
Andie sighed. “I know. You’re a terrible influence.”
He laughed to himself before backing them out of the parking space, and as they headed down Route 17 back toward I-95, Chase noticed a large billboard on the side of the road, advertising some local news channel. There was a woman in a business suit with her arms folded, her hair perfectly coifed and her makeup flawless, smiling haughtily down at the cars that passed.
“That annoys me,” he said as he gestured out the window, and Andie turned her head, looking in the direction he was pointing.
“What, billboard advertisements?”
“No,” he laughed. “Did you see that woman’s name? Daisy Richards.”
Andie looked at him. “I don’t get it.”
“Did that woman look like a Daisy to you? A Daisy should have pigtails and a teddy bear, not a career in broadcasting and a designer suit.”
“So, the name Daisy pisses you off?”
“No,” he said. “I think it’s a great name. For a five-year-old. Doesn’t really work when you’re talking about a grown woman. I don’t like it when names don’t translate.”
Andie was quiet for a second before she said, “Kind of like Esther? It’s a great name for a grandma, but doesn’t really work for a baby. Or a teenager.”
“Yes, exactly! Or how about Destiny? That’s a stripper’s name, not a baby’s name.” Andie smirked as he added, “Could you imagine having a grandmother named Destiny?” He shook his head. “Nope. Doesn’t work.”
Andie turned to face him, looking thoughtful. “You know what, though? It seems like the ‘translation problems’ only happen with girls’ names. Most boy names automatically translate. Like you’d call a little boy Jimmy, and then he becomes James when he’s older. Or like Mikey. Adorable for a little boy, creepy for a grown man. But then he becomes Michael. Now, Michael? That’s a man’s name.” Andie wagged her finger at Chase as if she had just bestowed some great knowledge upon him.
“What about Chase?”
“What about it?”
“What kind of name is it? A boy’s name? A man’s name?”
When she didn’t answer right away, he added, “A ridiculously hot guy’s name?”
Andie laughed under her breath. “Idiot.”
“And I mean, the name Andie?” He trailed off, baiting her.
“What about it?”
“Well, for a boy it translates. Andy is the kid, and Drew is the man. But for you?”
She turned toward him, her arms folded.
“I can’t make the call, not knowing your real name and all. I mean, if it’s Andrea, that works. That’s versatile. Definitely translates,” he said with a nod. When Andie gave him no response, he said, “Not it, huh? Okay…how about…Andriana?”
She smirked at him before turning back to face the road.
“Not Andriana,” he said to himself. “Hmm, let’s see. Oh, I got it. Andrewina?”
She threw her head back, her laughter ringing through the car, and he found himself fighting his own laughter just so he could listen to the sound of hers.
A day ago he had thought that getting her riled up was enjoyable. But it was nothing compared to making her laugh, or seeing the way her entire face lit up when she smiled a genuine smile. When he could get her to let her guard down like that, even for a second, it almost felt like a reward.
As her laughter died down, Chase looked over at her. She was looking out the passenger window, a small smile on her lips, twirling a piece of her hair between her fingers.
“If you won’t tell me your name, tell me something else about you,” he said, the playfulness leaving his voice.
She turned toward him again. “What, another favorite?”
“No, not a favorite. Just something.” He thought about it for a moment before he said, “Tell me about your job. Did you always want to work for your father?”
“No,” she said with a small laugh. “I majored in English when I was in college. But I practically grew up in that restaurant. I worked there part time as a waitress when I was in high school, and then during my breaks from college, I would come back and train other waitresses, and then that just naturally progressed into being the manager…and so here I am,” she said with a shrug, still absently twirling a strand of her hair.
“So how is that related to your English degree?”
“It’s not.”
He nodded slowly. “Do you think you’ll ever do anything with it?”
She took a deep breath before exhaling in a rush. “I don’t know. I guess I could go back to school and get a teaching degree, teach some courses in language arts.”
“Is that what you wanted to do?”
“No. I wanted to be a writer.”
Chase was quiet for a moment. “So why not do that instead?”
She shrugged. “Because it’s unrealistic. Do you know how hard it is to get an agent, or a publishing house that’s willing to take on your project?”
“I’m sure there would be a lot of rejection involved, but you only need one person to say yes, right?”
Andie scrunched her nose, and he smiled.
“What about self-publishing?” he asked.
She shook her head. “You still have to get a fan base for your stuff. Figure out how to market yourself. Not to mention, I’d have to write an entire novel first. And a good one, at that. It’s just not as simple as you’re making it sound.”
Chase pulled his bottom lip between his teeth, glancing over at her. He knew he had to be careful here.
“Have you tried?” he finally said.
“Tried what?”
“Writing a novel.”
She pulled her brow together as she turned to look out the passenger window again. “No.”
Barely a second passed before she cleared her throat and added, “What about you? Colin said you freelance as a photographer.”
He smiled resignedly, seeing right through her attempt at changing the subject, but he decided to follow her lead. He could sense that pursuing his line of questioning would only cause her to withdraw, and he didn’t want any of that today.
“Yeah, I got into it right after I graduated. I’ve been at it for about four years now.”
She tilted her head at him. “Can I ask you something?”
“You just did.”
She smiled softly. “I just don’t want to seem like I’m being intrusive.”
“If I think you’re being intrusive, I won’t answer,” he laughed.
“Okay, well,” she shifted in her seat to face him, “if you love photography, wouldn’t it be more…I don’t know…stable, if you worked for some kind of studio? Like, doing wedding photos or portraits or something?”
“Nah,” Chase said with a dismissive shake of his head. “I can’t stand that formal photography shit. It’s so contrived.” He glanced in the side mirror as he switched lanes. “In a formal shot, people show you what they want you to see, or what they think you want to see. But in a candid?” He smiled. “You’d be surprised how much a person’s expressions or mannerisms reveal about her when she’s not paying attention.”
Chase could feel her eyes on him, and it was a moment before she spoke again.
“Where did you go to school?”
“Cornell.”
“Really?” she asked, bemused. “I didn’t know they had a photography program.”
“I went to school for veterinary science.”
She fell silent and he smiled, knowing he had shocked her with that little disclosure. He glanced over to see the most endearing combination of surprise and confusion on her face.