Author: Cheryl McIntyre

After borrowing his shower and getting myself ready for the day, I feel a little less like I got an hour of sleep and a lot more like a fifteen year old girl who just got asked to prom. I’m…almost giddy.

I bounce into the small kitchen and join Guy at the tiny folding table with mismatched chairs for a cup of coffee. Guy may not know his way around an oven to save his life, but the boy can make a mean-ass Carmel macchiato. I inhale the sweet aroma and sigh.

“You are my savior,” I say as I finger up some whipped cream and lick it off. “You have no idea how much I needed this today.” I grin before taking a long sip.

“What’s wrong with you?” Guy asks suspiciously. He flicks his finger, gesturing at me. “You’re all…bubbly.”

Regardless of cheering through my high school years, I have never been mistaken for bubbly before. Bitchy, boring, bold, blatant, blonde, these are all my B descriptives.

I think I like bubbly.

I shrug as I take another drink. “Must be you,” I say wistfully.

His eyebrow rises as his head tips forward disbelievingly. “Mm-hm.” Smirking at me, Guy pushes his chair back and places his cup in the sink. “I have class. Lock up when you leave.” He pauses in the doorway, glancing at me over his shoulder. “And don’t clean anything. I like my shit exactly where it is.”

Damn. I was totally going to alphabetize his movies as soon as he was out the door. It had bothered me all night while I tried pointlessly to sleep. I almost got up four different times to do it, but was afraid I’d wake him. I follow him into the living room, hands on my hips. “Whatever. Enjoy your disorganized life.”

“It’s not disorganized,” he corrects me. “It’s controlled chaos and it works well for me.”

Controlled chaos.

“Now there’s an oxymoron if I ever heard one.”

“You’re an oxymoron,” Guy states as he picks up his backpack. He smiles proudly as he pulls the door open. “Don’t touch my stuff.”

I put my hands up in surrender. “Your mess is safe. I promise.”

Before he has the chance to reply with whatever shitty comment he has ready on the tip of his tongue, Chase is gliding down the hallway with a heart-melting grin.

“What’s up, man?” Guy says. “I was just on my way out.”

“I’m not here for you,” Chase answers. He squeezes past Guy and strolls straight toward me.

Panic fills my chest. I don’t know why, and I can’t explain it, but I completely freak out inside. As Chase stops in front of me, extending his hands to place them on—I don’t even know where, my hips, maybe?—I step sideways, ducking out of his reach.

Guy shuts the door behind him, leaving Chase and I alone, and I have the strongest desire to bolt after him.

“What the hell?”

I look away from the door, Chase’s voice drawing my attention back to him. His eyes are narrowed, watching me with disappointment.

“You said ‘no running,’” he reminds me.

“I’m not running,” I squeak.

The way he smells, fresh from the shower, has my belly clenching as he moves closer. I take a step back. He sighs as he drags his long fingers through his hair. It’s still wet and he looks agonizingly sexy.

“Back away from me one more damn time. I dare you.”

I blink in surprise. And then I cross my arms over my chest. “You don’t tell me what to do,” I say. It’s meant to be strong, forceful, but my voice quivers and the tone is completely off. I don’t know if it has more to do with the fear of talking back to a man now, or the fact that this is Chase, and I don’t know how to act.

Part of me wants to jump into his arms and pick up exactly where we left off last night. My body is still throbbing for him. From the memory of his hands on me. His fingers. His lips. His tongue…

But there’s this other part that’s so scared, and I don’t even know of what. Or why. Or…

“I didn’t tell you what to do,” Chase says, his husky voice breaking into my mangled thoughts. “I dared you.”

I tilt my head to the side, my hands slipping to my hips. He dares me? What is that supposed to mean? “That sounds like a threat.”

He doesn’t reply. The only indication he heard me is the cocky arching of his brow.

So I take another step back.

But here’s the ridiculous part… I’m shaking as I do it.

Two years ago, I would have immediately taken five of the biggest steps I could just to prove to him I wasn’t scared. And I’m not, theoretically, scared of Chase, but Loden has instilled this fear in me that, regardless of the time that’s passed, I can’t seem to get past.

My fight or flight reflex is always activated.

Chase stalks toward me and I continue to back up with each of his strides. Until I hit the wall.

He pauses in front of me, not touching. His hands move slowly, settling on either side of my head. My heart is racing. From fear.

From fear that he’s going to kiss me.

From fear that he won’t.

From fear that I don’t know what he’s going to do.

I take a stuttering breath as Chase leans in, his nose skimming my cheek. “It’s okay,” he whispers. “I knew you’d run.” His soft lips brush my ear, his breath warm against my skin, causing goose bumps to prickle across my arms. I shiver. “I’ll just need to give you a reason to run back.”

He shifts, his mouth hovering in front of mine. My cheeks are on fire. My entire body is burning. For him. The anticipation is too much. I inch forward, just my head, lifting my chin. I’m relenting, giving myself to him. All he needs to do is take me. But he just looks at me, his eyes watching me fixedly.

“I don’t… I don’t think we should tell anybody,” I murmur.

He doesn’t budge as he asks, “Tell anybody what?”

I lick my lips, my eyes focused on his mouth as he forms each word. “About us.”

His arms bend, bringing him closer. His chest is flush against mine. I can feel the pounding of his heart. The rough shadow on his cheek. His hair, warm and slightly damp as it falls forward.

“How can I tell anybody about us when I don’t know what we are?” He lowers his head, nestling his face into my neck. He inhales deeply as his tongue sweeps the sensitive skin at the base. “You’re in control here, Annie. Tell me what you want and I’ll give it to you.”

Something comes apart with his words. Something inside of me that has held me together for my entire life. I know, because I feel it break. I feel myself break.

What do I want?

I don’t know.

But I know it involves him.

“I want…” I swipe my tongue across my lips as he pulls back enough to meet my eyes. I take a deep breath, forcing my chest to press into his tightly. And then I try again.

“I want…” I close my eyes and sigh. “I want you to kiss me.”

A beat goes by. Neither of us moves. Another beat and I open my eyes. Chase is staring at me, his gaze searing. Desire pools in my stomach, hot and unyielding. I’m trembling and it has nothing to do with fear.

And then his lips move against mine, rough, but slow. As if he’s drawing it out, taking his time, and savoring, but it’s taking all his strength to do so. It’s not the unrestrained hunger of last night, but it’s somehow more powerful. My toes curl into the carpet and my hands fist into his shirt.

I feel almost…crazed…as I clutch him closer to me. I want to burrow into him. I want him everywhere around me, but I hold it back. Each brush of his tongue sets me closer to losing my mind. His taste in my mouth, minty and something that’s all Chase, mixed with the sweet caramel and whipped cream from my coffee, has me forcing my lips harder to his.

I was wrong. This is my happiest of happy places. Right here.

And then I realize—controlled chaos.

That’s exactly what Chase and I are.

38

Do You Realize

Chase

I can’t say it feels good that Annie wants to keep our…relationship?...on the down. It feels shitty as hell. But I knew she’d do this, so at least I prepared myself. I’m not Annie’s typical type. I know that. She likes Boy Scouts and hardworking, smart guys. She wants somebody with khakis and a bountiful bank account. I don’t have jack to offer her other than I’m better than Loden.

And that’s not saying much.

The thing is…Annie makes me want to be more. She makes me want to get my shit together and grow up. Be the man she needs me to be.

But I still want to be me, too. Ya know?

I know I need to find a balance. I just haven’t figured out how yet. And there’s this part of me I keep buried deep inside that wonders why she can’t accept me for who I am. Why can’t I be enough to make her happy?

I look in the mirror and kick that part of me back into the corner where it belongs because I can’t blame her. She’s working her ass off to make something of herself and I can barely make it through my classes. It’s normal for her to expect more from me. I know I need to man up. But can I do it with my bass strapped to my back and tattoos on my skin?

I think so.

But I’m not sure she does.

I’ve waited so long for this. I’m not going to complain. I’m going to go with the flow because I’d rather deal with it than lose her. And who knows? Maybe I’ll grow on her. I mean, I already did, right? It took six years, but she came around. If I can keep her from running away from me then we’ll have a pretty good start.

I’ll continue to touch her in private—keep it from our friends—despite how wrong it feels. If that’s what she wants then I’ll do it. Hell, it won’t be hard. Everybody else is growing up. They have school and jobs, relationships or a kid. Everybody moved out and moved on. They’re all too busy with their own lives to pay attention to what’s happening in my and Annie’s lives.

It’s sad, but true.

They’re all still my closest friends—and they always will be—but time, man… It changes shit. It changes people. Priorities shift and everybody starts wanting to spend most of their time with that one person.

Damn. Maybe I am growing up.

Or maybe growing up and love are somehow tied together.

Listen to me, all profound and whatnot.

~*~

“Did I tell you Park and Lucy are getting married?” I say to Annie as I lie on her bed, her head on my shoulder. I hold up our hands, her palm flat against mine, and compare sizes. I can close the tops of my fingers over hers, dwarfing them.

“Mm-hm,” she says sleepily. “In a couple months.”

I nod, my chin brushing against her hair, and I smile as I slip my fingers in between hers. I love the way her skin feels against mine. She’s so soft and smooth.

“I still can’t believe Park’s a dad.”

She laughs quietly as she lowers her head back to my shoulder. She snuggles in. Her lips caressing my neck, making me tug her closer.

“Is it weird I’m excited?”

“Not really,” she says. “But aren’t you worried about them?”

I shrug again and lay her hand on my stomach, my hand on top of hers. “No. I think they’ll be okay. They love each other.”

Annie sits up, pivots on the bed so she’s facing me, and crosses her legs underneath her. “You say that like it’s enough. Like nothing else matters.”

“It doesn’t. Not really.”

“Love doesn’t pay for diapers and medical bills.”

“It doesn’t,” I agree.

“They’re so young. What if it doesn’t last? And then they have this baby, growing up with two different homes. Two different sets of parents. And that’s if she’s lucky.”