Chasing Allie (Breaking Away Series #2) (8 page)

“Who’s been texting?” I ask. Marissa storms out of the room into the kitchen, where it sounds like she’s getting something from the fridge.

“My dad.”

I frown. “Everything okay?”

He runs a shaking hand through his hair and gives me a jaded grin. “No. But it’s not important. He’s just being a control freak.”

“Like father, like son,” I joke.

Damn. Apparently, I got the bad joke gene from my sister, because the look Chase gives me tells me I crossed a line, too.

“I’m sorry,” I hurry up and say. “I just...this sucks. I want to go back to the Ferris wheel and live on it forever.”

He bites his lip and seems to be trying to calm down. Tucking his phone back in his pocket, Chase sits next to me, looping an arm around my shoulders. “Yeah. It sucks. I’m sorry for my part.”

Marissa emerges from the kitchen with three bottles of beer. She hands one to me and one to Chase. They’re all open, with lime wedges tucked into the tops.

“Look,” she says to us both. “Let’s really start from the beginning. Reboot. And maybe loosening up with a few beers will make us more civil.”

C
HAPTER
T
EN

Chase lets a sly smile slip through. “Sounds good to me,” he says, squeezing the lime into the neck of his beer bottle and shoving it in. A few bubbles fizz up and he licks them away, his tongue purposeful and sexy as hell. I have to hold back a little noise that threatens to come out of my throat. 

Marissa’s face breaks into a relaxed smile. “That’s more like it.” She and I squeeze our limes into the beers and shove them in. Then she holds hers up and says, “A toast. To new beginnings!”

We clink beer bottles and chug a few gulps. I’ve had beer here and there before, but never an entire bottle. After the coffee, it feels good. Cold and smooth, with a tangy taste. 

Chase narrows his eyes and looks at Marissa. “To starting off on the right foot.” They clink beer bottles and I hold back, letting them bond. They really need to like each other. If they don’t, my life won’t work very well.

Notes from a funky blues song drift in through the open window. Someone in the apartment building is playing a bass, plugged in to an amp. The tone is muted, and a piano joins in. They don’t play a song. Just fits and starts, a little line here and there.

“Musicians,” Marissa says, holding back a burp. She fails and excuses herself. “They live upstairs. They’ll fiddle around for a while and then we’ll get an hour of really amazing blues and jazz.”

Chase’s shoulder relaxes against mine. He finishes his beer and I finish mine. My legs feel less tight. My skin is warm and loosening.

“Want another?” Marissa asks. We nod. I take Chase’s empty bottle and he smiles, putting his feet up on an ottoman, kicking off his boots. Good. This means we’re staying.

Whew.

I know beer isn’t cheap, so I follow her into the kitchen and whisper, “We’ll buy groceries and more beer in the morning. I know money’s tight.”

She reddens and reaches into the fridge for three more bottles. “Actually, it’s not so bad. Last week Morty got twice as many nights stripping, so we’re fine.”

“‘We’? I thought he was just a fuckbuddy.”

“Allie!”

“What?”

“You don’t swear like that!”

“I do now,” I say, giggling.

She leans in and asks in a conspirator’s voice. “Are you and Chase fuckbuddies?”

“Not yet,” I say. That giggle reappears. I can’t seem to control it. Twisting my smile into a neutral line, I try to look serious. “But you’re changing the subject.”

She pulls a baggie with a cut-up lime in it from the fridge and proceeds to slice three pieces. “Morty and I, well....” She takes care of the beers. I grab two by the necks and Marissa gives me a perplexed look. “He really likes me. A lot. And he’s great. Seriously. It’s just hard to trust a guy with my heart, you know?”

“You trust him with your body.” I say it without judgment, but she still flinches.

“Ouch.”

“Sorry.”

“No, it’s okay. You’re telling the truth. It’s my problem if it hurts.” She doesn’t toast this time. Instead, she guzzles half her beer and pauses.  

“The truth only hurts if it’s...true.” My head feels light and swimmy. I like it. But making my mouth say exactly what I am thinking is a little difficult. Mimicking Marissa, I drink half my beer and we smile at each other. We’re kind of silly.

That’s way better than being tense.

Chase looks so comfortable on the couch when I walk back into the living room and hand him his beer. I like seeing him like this. We feel domestic here, like a real couple. I can imagine us in the future in our own place, cuddling on the couch and watching movies. Or he can help me run lines in a script. I know I have to get crap jobs before I can start to try to get acting jobs, and I don’t mind. I’ll waitress or clean hotel rooms to have time to do what I need to do when it comes to auditions. 

And then I’ll come home to Chase.

At the end of the day, as long as we’re together, then our separate dreams in L.A. can combine. We can be together and pursue our passions. He can do stunts, I’ll try to land commercial and walk-on roles, and within a few years we can both break out.

We can really work for our dreams to come true.

And support each other all along.

“Thanks for the beer, babe,” he says as I settle down next to him. 

Marissa plops down on the floor in front of us and says, “I never thought I’d see my little sister with a boyfriend.”

“You always teased me about David,” I say. Chase’s body tightens for a second. 

Marissa laughs. “Until you told me...you know.”

“You know what?” Chase asks, eyes alert.

“He’s gay,” Marissa says.

“He is?” Chase replies, drinking more beer. “Huh.”

“No,” I correct her. “He’s not gay. He’s gender fluid.”

Chase frowns. “You mean, like intersexed?” I’d expect a strong, dominant man like Chase to be more judgmental than this. Riding with Atlas must mean he sees constant harassment and jokes, stereotypes and bigotry on the road, right? Yet he’s having a perfectly civil conversation about David’s unconventional sexuality like it’s no big deal.

A part of me falls for Chase a little bit more.

“Not intersexed. More like he doesn’t identify as male or female. He’s exploring who he is.”

“Then why do you call
him
a
he
?” Chase asks. “Is that how he identifies?”

Marissa and I give him equally surprised looks.

“What?” Chase asks.

“I’m just...surprised by how open-minded you are,” I explain.

“We have a transgendered dude in Atlas,” he says with a shrug. “Whatever. I’m not judging who people are. If your outsides don’t match your insides, you should do what you gotta do to feel comfortable in the world.”

Marissa openly stares at him, jaw practically on the floor.

“Um, okay,” I answer, completely flummoxed. “David’s still going by
he
right now. It’s a small town. When he heads off to college in a few weeks, he’ll decide how he wants to be referred to. I don’t know, though. It’s more like David’s kind of androgynous. Pansexual, even.” 

Marissa’s turn to look confused. “Pansexual? That’s a word I haven’t heard before, and I’ve been in L.A. for a while,” she says with a laugh.

“Does that mean having sex with your sauté pan?” Chase asks. 

I smack him. “Don’t make fun.” But he and Marissa are giggling. Chase is literally giggling, the sound like a little boy overcome with fun. It’s adorable. Freaking adorable, and contagious, too. I laugh with them and soon we’re doing that hard-to-breathe goofy choking gigglefest that makes my ab muscles hurt.

“Sorry, Allie. Can’t help it.” Marissa clinks beer bottles with Chase and the two finish off their second beers. I follow, the cold, bubbly beer stinging my throat as it goes down. 

“More power to David,” Chase says. “People should love who they love and that’s all that matters. The hard part is finding the right person.” He gives me a warm, searching look.

“Round three?” Marissa asks as her phone buzzes, interrupting the mood.

“I’ll get them,” Chase declares, collecting our empties and walking into the kitchen. My eyes can’t break away from watching his ass as he leaves.

“You are a goner,” Marissa whispers as she checks her phone.

“Yes,” is all I can say as I lean my head back against the couch and take a deep breath. My muscles feel soft and loose for the first time in days. All the tiny aches and pains are gone. Suddenly, every thought I have is so deep. Everything Marissa says is witty. Each look from Chase has a rich meaning that makes the world so much better.

And it’s hot in here. I want to be naked. In bed. With Chase.

Now.

His eyes meet mine and his mouth opens slightly, as if he’s about to say something. But he doesn’t. He just stands there, the look more intense as seconds tick by. Marissa’s reading texts on her phone and doesn’t notice that the temperature in the room just increased by about ten degrees.

Boy, do I need that nice, cold beer right now.

The brush of Chase’s fingers against mine as he hands me the bottle nearly makes me moan. As he sits next to me we touch from shoulder to ankle and I want to melt entirely into his body. I want to stop existing as a separate human being. I want Chase to take me into him completely. He needs to enter into me in full. Chase can possess me in a way no man ever has.

And no one else ever will.

It’s not polite, though, to strip naked in front of your sister and go at it on her living room floor, so instead I drink my beer. Fast. Too fast.

I let a burp come out of my mouth that would make a frat boy proud. I think I triggered a small earthquake here in California from the vibrations. 

Chase bursts into laughter.

So much for romance.

My skin turns pink. I can actually see it, the forearms a lovely shade from blushing. My entire body feels like it’s going to spontaneously combust from embarrassment.

“It’s no big deal, Allie,” Chase says. Marissa ignores us. I feel so gross. So vulgar. So—

An enormous, earth-shattering sound pours out of Chase like he’s burping the entire alphabet.

Oh. My. God.

He
is
burping the entire alphabet. His voice stops at J, though. He shrugs.

We convulse into a pile of arms and legs and aching ribs as we laugh hysterically.

Man, I sure do love beer. Why didn’t I drink beer before? It would have made home a lot more fun. 

“I think three’s your limit, little girl,” Chase says, moving my now-empty bottle to the end table.

“I’m not a little girl,” I protest. His hand slides up the inside seam of my thigh and my breath catches in my throat. The fire burning on my skin flames up a bit more.

“No, Allie,” he says in a voice filled with lust. “You definitely are not.”

Marissa looks up abruptly from her phone and says, “Get a room, you two.”

As I breathe in, my breasts push against my t-shirt. My nipples brush against the tight fabric of my bra, and I remember that we were in the ocean just hours ago, wet and salty. My calves feel tight and I wonder if I should take a shower before we—

Chase’s mouth is on me so fast I feel his tongue caressing my teeth before my mind can catch up to the fact that he’s touching me. The push of his fingers in my hair, light against the back of my next, makes me melt into him. 

“Seriously,” Marissa mutters. “You
have
a room. Need a map?” 

Chase breaks the kiss with a murmured “sorry” and stands slowly, taking his time. I see why.

I literally see why. Oh, my.

He extends a hand to me and I stand. The room spins a little. Just enough to be charming and amusing.

“Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do,” Marissa says, eyes still on her screen. It weirds me out for a second because she’s always been so protective of me. Now she’s encouraging me to go in another room and have sex with a guy she was just arguing with an hour ago.

The magnetic pull of Chase’s entire being cancels her out. He’s heat and light, all gravity to my mass. I’m falling into him and I can’t break away.

I don’t want to break away from him. He’s my destination. My home.

My asylum. In his arms I’m safe and free.

His arm encircles my waist and we walk, in tandem, to the room where we’ll spend the next few hours learning exactly how free we really are.

C
HAPTER
E
LEVEN

The door closes as Chase pulls it tight. The click of the lock as his fingers turn it feels like some other lock inside me is unlatched and opened. The great mystery of who I am is about to be revealed. 

One kiss at a time.

I’ve never seen a man look at me like this before. Men have given me hungry looks. They’ve undressed me with their eyes. They’ve glared at me for denying them. I’ve even had men give me kissy faces, as if that’s going to make me suddenly want to sleep with them.

All those eyes on me at Jeff’s bar. On the street in my hometown. At the grocery store, the library, even high school. Not a single pair of eyes held what Chase has in his.

Love. But something more than love.

Pure
need
.

He can’t live without me. He can’t stand to spend one more second not touching me. His eyes tell me so.

And his hands are about to explain all the details.

I am afraid. Not scared. Not terrified. Not anxious—
afraid
. Afraid to fall a little too deeply for him. Afraid to like what we’re about to do a little too much. Afraid to believe that any of this is real. 

Afraid to hand him the key to my heart and have him run off with it.

The problem with being afraid is that you never get to live. The fear traps you and keeps you caged. Your own mind is your warden.

I thought Jeff was my warden. All these years. I thought he was the reason I couldn’t live my real life.

Turns out it was me.

Chase’s hand is so hot it burns against my elbow as he strokes my arm. I could spend the next eighty years memorizing the lines of his face. How the skin around his cheeks folds like it understands. The way his lips go soft with yearning as his eyes trace my jaw line.