“What about you?” Gracie says, twisting to Chase. “Do you like fried chicken?”
“Of course,” he says, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “Come on, I’ll have Albert drive you home.”
I glance at Chase, a little wary. “Are you sure you don’t have to—”
He just gestures towards the parking lot. “Let’s go.”
Albert pulls up outside my building and steps out to open the door. Gracie hops out first, already scrolling her phone for the fried chicken order. “I’ll order from that place on 7th. They do the crispy spicy wings.”
I hesitate, debating whether to invite Chase, but Gracie beats me to it. “You coming up?” she asks, pointing at Chase like he’d be an idiot if he says no.
“Oh, so the door security is letting me in tonight?” He cocks a brow, his smirk directed at me.
“You’ll have to take that up with my sister. She’s the one who decides who makes the cut,” Gracie says, her voice echoing as we follow her up the stairwell. At the door, she rummages through her bag for the key, then shoves it open. “Okay, I’m going to grab a quick shower before the food arrives.” She disappears down the hall, leaving us alone.
Chase steps in close the moment she’s gone, his hands finding my waist as he traps me against the wall. “So, what’s it going to be, then? Can I come in?”
“Only if you promise to behave.”
“Impossible.” His gaze drops to my mouth, and his finger twirls a strand of my hair around his finger, pulling me close. “My beautiful Violet,” he murmurs, the reverence in his eyes turning me to a puddle. He’s back again, the Chase I’m halfway in love with. He’s beginning to show up more and more. Perhaps it’s just a part of his calculated charm, and like a fool, I’m falling for it. Either way, he’s slowly ruining me. He presses his lips on mine, his tongue parting my mouth so tenderly, my heart thumps against my chest until I’m dizzy.
“Okay, you convinced me,” I say, lacing my fingers with his. I clear my throat, pushing off the wall, and gesture toward the living room. “Come on in.” The apartment is small but cozy, and for some reason, having Chase here makes it seem even smaller.
“Sit down,” I say, suddenly self-conscious of the second-hand furniture. “I’ll grab a couple of beers.”
Before he can respond, there’s a knock at the door. Gracie reappears from the bathroom, practically launching herself at the door. “Fried chicken’s here!” she announces, grabbing the bags from the delivery guy.
Gracie sets the food down on the coffee table and takes a seat on the floor, flicking through the homepage to select a movie. I crack open a beer, passing one to Chase before settling beside him on our tiny couch. I sink my teeth into the fried chickenwith a groan of appreciation. The delicious greasiness combined with the crisp beer is my ultimate comfort food. Chase clears his throat, his eyes raking over me like I just performed a striptease.
“What?” I mouth, feigning an innocent smile as I wipe grease from the corner of my mouth.
He just shakes his head, taking a slug of his beer, shifting in his seat. Gracie is in her usual position, stretched out on the floor like a cat, her eyes glued to the screen.
At some point, I stop paying attention to the movie because my eyes become heavy.
I fight it at first, shifting to sit up straighter, but the warmth of the food, the quiet comfort of Chase sitting next to me, the low hum of the TV—it all lulls me into drowsiness. My head tilts slightly, and next thing I know, everything fades.
There’s movement. Warmth. A sensation of weightlessness. I blink sluggishly, reality coming back in slow, blurry pieces.
Chase.
He’s carrying me.
My arms are looped around his neck, my face pressed against his shoulder. His scent—clean, expensive, something inherently him—wraps around me, and I’m too tired to question why he’s doing this instead of just shaking me awake.
I mumble something incoherent as he lowers me onto my bed. The mattress dips, the sheets cool against my skin. He carefully removes my skirt and top, leaving me in my underwear. My bed is small—twin-sized, barely enough for me, let alone someone else—but before I think better of it, the words slip out.
“You wanna stay?”
I’m half expecting him to make an excuse, return to the luxury penthouse I imagine he lives in. But he studies me for a moment, tugging off his shirt.
“Yeah,” he says simply.
I shift over as much as I can to make space, not that there’s much to give. He slides in next to me, his body warm, solid. We’re close. So close that my heart hammers against my ribs.
“Just so you know,” I say, my voice still thick with sleep. “Thin walls.”
Chase smirks, amusement flickering in his eyes. “Noted.”
