Exactly one hour later, I hear a rumble coming from down the road, towards the apartment. I peek outside the window and see someone pulling up to the pavement on a motorcycle. They reach up and tug a black helmet off their head, revealing Chase's long blonde hair. He shakes it out, running his fingers through it.

He has better hair than me. I wonder what conditioner he uses?

I make my way out the apartment, just managing to catch the elevator before it closes. A man that lives on our floor is already in there, standing awkwardly in the corner. We offer each other a nod, never having met before, and avoid eye contact the rest of the way down. I've never been great at small talk with our neighbours.

As soon as I exit the elevator and step outside the main doors, a smile crawls onto Chase's face. He's leaning against his bike as though he has all the time in the world. "Diana! You look great!"

I look down at my sweater, worn jeans and old trainers. My hair has been thrown up into a pony tail and I haven't bothered to put on any make up, despite the fact that my eyes have deep black bags under them.

"Um, thanks." I glance nervously towards his mode of transport. "We're not going on that are we?"

"She has a name, you know." He strokes the seat lovingly. "It's Suzie." When I frown in confusion he adds, "She's a Suzuki."

"Clever," I mutter, still uncertain that I want to get on that death trap. "Can we take my car instead? Please?"

"Sure," he answers without hesitation.

I pull my keys back out of my bag, having just put them away after locking the apartment. Chase follows close behind me as I head over to my pale blue Micra, parked just a little further up the road. I can't help but glance around furtively, as though someone might be watching us.

You're not doing anything wrong.

I open the door and slide into the driver's seat, waiting for Chase to climb in on the passenger's side. He chucks his helmet into the back and turns to smile at me. "Where are we going?" I ask as I slide the keys into the ignition and start the car.

"You'll see." He smirks and clips in his seatbelt, gesturing for me to start driving.

We drive in companionable silence, punctuated only by Chase occasionally saying 'turn left here' or 'straight and then that road on the right.' We go all the way out the city centre, in the opposite direction to my parents place, until the road is lined with trees instead of houses and shops. Eventually, he tells me to take a right and stop in front of an old building, on the town fringes.

I park the car and step out, heading towards it. The building, though clearly ancient, must have been beautiful back in the day. It has a large veranda that's made of wood, which creaks under my feet as I walk across it. It's completely surrounded by trees, throwing shade over it, and dropping leaves all over the place.

The entire front is wall to wall glass, I step closer to peer through them, seeing inside a bar that stretches across the whole room, and a sign hanging over it that has definitely seen better days. I squint at it, trying to read the faded lettering. It looks like it says, 'The Oaks'.

"Amazing isn't it?" Chase's voice comes from right behind me and I jump slightly, not expecting him to be so close.

"What is this place?"

"Back in the day, it was the best bar in town. It always hummed with customers; they did Karaoke nights, pub lunches on Sundays, that kind of thing." A look of sadness flits across his face. "It was my grandfather's. He loved it like it was another child," he laughs throatily.

"What happened?"

"He fell sick," he explains. "And neither my father nor my uncle had the time to take care of it. By the time he passed away, it had fallen into a state of disrepair and was declared unfit to use by the city board. So it's been condemned. They were going to demolish it, but that was five years ago and they still haven't."

"I'm glad they didn't," I say and mean it. Despite its clear signs of neglect, it's still beautiful.

"Me too. I have so many good memories here; I spent a lot of my childhood inside these walls." He places a hand to the side of the building, paint chips and splintered wood flaking off at his touch. "When he died, he left me some money, and I tried to buy this place, determined that I would fix it up. But because it's been condemned, I wasn't allowed to. So instead I bought that place in town and named it after this one. It's just my way of trying to keep his memory alive."

I can tell this place means a lot to him and that just leads me to question why he wanted to show it to me. "Why did you bring me here?"

He shrugs, but I can see the hesitation in his eyes, as though he's unsure whether he should tell me or not. "I just thought that you of all people might appreciate its beauty."

Well he's right; I do think the building is incredible. I wish that he had been able to restore it to its former glory and continue his grandfather's legacy. Although, I do like what he's done with the money instead. And it certainly explains how he's able to own a bar at such a young age.

"And because," he continues when I don't say anything. "Because this place was amazing, and someone didn't see its worth. Instead of making the time to take care of it, they neglected it and didn't care for it enough. And yet, it's still the most beautiful building in the whole town."

He takes a step away from me, leaning against the glass. "I just wish," he adds, "that I hadn't been too late to save it. I swore to myself I'd never let that happen again. Do you know what I mean?"

The message is clear as day behind his cornflower blue eyes. He's talking to me; he's comparing me to the place that means so much to him, the building that has begun to fall apart.

I'm lost for words, unsure what to say or how to respond. "Maybe," I eventually settle with, "it's not too late. Have you tried speaking to the city board?"

He laughs; the sound floating towards me through the air and leaving tingles up my spine. "I could, but sometimes I think I try too hard. Who's to say that the building even wants to be saved? Maybe someone will see just how wonderful it is. Maybe things will change?"

"Maybe they will." I swallow the lump in my throat.

"And maybe, I'm being too harsh," he admits. "And I apologise for that. Maybe someone will love it the way they always should have, if they were given the chance. Maybe they just needed to realise how amazing it really is."

Now I'm getting confused as to what he's trying to say. It almost sounds as though he's apologising for judging Mason. One thing is becoming abundantly clear to me though; Chase is a good person, far too good for me. All he wants is to help, even if that means telling me to give Mason another chance.

I turn away from him, stepping off the veranda and onto the grass. Sun peeks through the leafy canopy above me, feeling warm against my skin. Finally, I face him again; he's still leaning against the glass, watching me. "Maybe, the building never really deserved someone like you, who's fighting so hard to take care of it. Maybe it's time for you to walk away from it."

"I know I should. It's what I should have done from the start. But I feel an inexplicable pull towards," he clears his throat, "the building. I feel like it needs someone to show it just how lovely it is, even if that's not me. But, if it was really asking me to, I would walk away from it right now. I would rather it be happy, even if it meant I would never see it again."

"Are we still talking about the building?" I can't help but ask, noticing all the slips he made.

"Were we ever?" he counters, finally standing up straight and walking over to join me on the grass. I shiver from his proximity and he misreads it, taking a step away from me. "I'm sorry, Diana. I always overstep."

I look down at my trainers, managing a small smile. "The building doesn't want you to walk away. It likes having you in its life. But the building can't give you what you want, and it's sorry."

"I know," he shoves his hands deep into his pockets. Dropping all pretence, he says, "as long as you're happy, that's all I care about."

It's strange, because in some ways I feel like I barely know this man in front of me, but in others, I feel like I do. I feel like I've known him my entire life, like I would trust him with my deepest thoughts. As I watch him take a seat on the grass, his legs stretched out in front of him, I realise that I've never really felt that with anyone before, not even Mason.

I know it's wrong, so why can't I let him walk away? That would be the right thing to do.

Desperate not to overthink anymore, I search around for a change of subject. His hair catches the sunlight that streams through the trees and before I can stop myself, I blurt out; "what conditioner do you use?"

He laughs loudly, a deep throaty chuckle that makes me weak at the knees. "I'm actually not sure, I haven't looked at the name, but it's a green bottle."

Typical male.

"That's helpful," I scoff, glad that we have moved onto lighter topics after our heavy discussion. I join him on the grass, stretching my legs to make them more comfortable. He smiles at me, and it's so friendly and open that it's easy to forget our previous conversation and just sit there with him.

We talk for ages. He tells me more about his grandfather, and I can tell that he loved him and misses him terribly.

I tell him a bit about my childhood, about my parents, and Hailee. How she became like a non-biological sister to me. And Alexa, who I wish I had met sooner, because we have also become so close.

When the sun starts to set, hanging low on the horizon, Chase looks at his watch. "I hate to do this, but we should go. I left a new waiter, Devon in charge of getting the place ready for tonight."

And so we drive back to my place, smiles on both of our faces as we continue our chat as if it was never interrupted. When I pull into a parking outside my apartment, I am actually sad that our time together has come to an end. I don't want to see him go.

The realisation hits me like a freight train. I like Chase. I like spending time with him. I like seeing him, probably more than I should. I wasn't sure if it was innocent anymore, but now, I know it's not, especially after what we talked about today.

"Thanks for today, Chase," I say as I get out the car as quickly as I can, eager to get away from him.

"Me too, we should do it again!" he grins brightly as he gets out and grabs his motorcycle helmet out the car. I disagree, already making the decision not to hang out with him like this again. But instead of telling him that, I just nod and offer him a small smile.

He climbs onto his bike and starts it, the engine roaring to life and drowning out his next words.

"Sorry?" I ask. But he just smiles and waves, before taking off down the street and leaving me, standing there.

I've never felt more confused in my life.