Hey, I’m here at the school. There seems to be some misunderstanding. Chase seems to think I’m staying here??
I presssend and wait for her response. I don’t have a lot of confidence that she’ll actually answer. She’s off on her honeymoon, but even if she wasn’t, she’s notorious for ignoring me even at the best of times. Especially if I need something from her.
A read receipt appears, and I hold my breath hoping that those three little dots will appear. Only, they never do.
I let out a frustrated sigh and settle for the black suede couch. I’ve been traveling for over 36 hours. My skin feels dirty from the plane and my hair needs to be washed, but more than anything I need sleep. There’s no town near enough that I can get a hotel room for the night, and even if I wanted to I know exactly how much money is in my bank account. While my new stepfather might have been more than happy to pay for my spot here, I haven’t heard anything about living expenses. I have some saved, but not enough to waste it on a night in a hotel.
“Take your fucking shoes off if you’re going to sit there. I won’t have you fucking up my things,” Chase calls out, giving me a death glare.
I raise a middle finger and put my shoes right on his couch. A visible tick in his jaw is all the warning I have before my feet are being yanked by his large hands. My ass hits the ground hard, and he’s inches away from my face, bent down over me with a menacing stare.
“Don’t fuck with my stuff, or I’ll have you begging for your fucking life.” He reaches to move a stray hair that’s fallen over my eyes with his hand and I flinch. Body shaking instantly from muscle memory. As flashes of my father’s angry fists slamming into my face flit behind my eyes, Chase’s angry glare melds and becomes his. Suddenly, I’m five years old all over again. Scared and hurt. Wanting to run but having nowhere to go. Ready to receive my punishment.
He assesses my reaction, nose flaring and backs off, putting his hands into the pockets of his low hanging sweatpants. I pick myself off the ground and remove my shoes with shaky hands. It’s been ages since I’ve been triggered like that, but I can’t show my weakness. I don’t want Chase to see how broken I am on the inside. Not after all the work I’ve done to appear like a normal person.
That music starts up again, and I notice that the sound is coming from Chase’s computer. He steps back, clearing his throat. “Glad we understand each other.”
My fingers clench and unclench, and my teeth grind together wanting to respond with something cutting but I can tell I don’t have the energy.
He plops onto his comfortable bed, becoming completely mesmerized by the glowing screen of his laptop. The music emanating from it acting like a lullaby to my fatigued body.
I rest my head on one of the couch pillows, finding the most comfortable position I can, and screw my eyes shut. Willing my mind to focus on the hauntingly beautiful notes. Hoping that they’ll carry me off to sleep.
I can deal with the room situation in the morning. But for now, I don’t think Chase is going to drop this ruse and I don’t have any fight left in me to protest. The notes do just as I hope and wash away the frightening memories of my father, lulling me into a deep and dreamless sleep.
3
CHASE
Melody’s presence is annoyingly distracting. I’ve had to restart my composition at least five times, trying to figure out why it’s not working. Something, some note, isn’t fitting. But no matter how many times I play the piece, I miss it, too focused on her sleeping form.
I’d been picturing someone homely, not this siren that’s walked in and upturned my life. With her long pink hair and enchanting blue eyes.
Christ, she even smells intoxicating. Like vanilla with a hint of orange. It took everything in me not to grab her by her chin and close the distance between us. I bet she’d feel so good pressed up against the wall with her long legs wrapped around my waist.
This won’t do.
I can’t be distracted. My studies are too important. And with her here, I’m a jumble of thoughts. I never get jumbled. I’m organized. Methodical. In control.
It’s been all of two fucking seconds of her here and I’m already unraveling. I’m supposed to be making her life a living hell, not the other way around.
Melody makes a soft noise and snuggles down further on my couch and fuck —I miss the note again. I restart my piece and try to focus, but my eyes travel down the length of her lithe body imagining all the things I could do to her.
I’m not used to having my space invaded by a woman. Or anyone really. Yeah, James comes over and chills out here, but he’s quiet and great at minding his own business. Most of the time.
And sure, I sleep around. But they’re always gone by morning.
My choice, not theirs.
It’s better that way. No room for attachments that’ll just end in them leaving me anyway once they get to know me.
The way Melody flinched away from me consumes my thoughts. I wasn’t going to hurt her, but she acted on instinct. Like someone who’s been hit before.
An unsettled feeling rumbles through my chest at that.
I can be a mean son of a bitch, but I’d never hurt a woman. I just wanted to scare her a bit. Rough house her emotions to frighten her away. But fuck, that haunted look in her eyes has me actually feeling uncomfortable. Remorseful even.
Fuck. I miss the note again.
