Authors: Rachel Higginson
His cheeks returned to their natural tanned tone and he nodded his head enthusiastically, “Well, when you put it like that…. and just when I had decided to sell my soul for a week of cheap tequila and hookers. Mom will be so disappointed.”
Laughter burst out of my mouth and Chase joined in. He reached out subtly and grabbed my hand, holding it gently in his. My breath caught in my throat at the super sweet gesture and I relaxed into the leather seat. We were driving through a neighborhood now close to Creighton University in north downtown Omaha. The houses were big and old here, some pathetically run down, and some immaculately taken care of. Poor were mixed with old wealth, multicultural diversity mixed Mexican restaurants, specialized hair salons and ethnic markets. College students layered the area that surrounded Creighton’s brick academic buildings and their brand new soccer stadium. This area was an intense mixture of culture but still it felt exactly like home, like everything that made up Omaha.
“I’m sure your future still holds plenty of opportunity for reckless debauchery.
No need to worry.” I teased.
“Oh, I’m not worried,” Chase assured me with mock gravity.
He pulled the car over to the side of the street in front of a Victorian-inspired two story house. Phoenix’s house had a long front porch painted pastel yellow with a white porch swing that swayed in the cold night breeze. The yard was neatly trimmed where grass was allowed to grow, or in this case die with winter coming soon; but most of the yard was mulched and made into flower beds that held the remains of withered stems and dilapidated plants. There was a short, knee high picket fence that lined the property and didn’t really make much sense to me. It seemed too short to be of any real purpose and too tall to just be decorative. The front door was open, letting light spill out onto the front porch and cast shadows along the curving sidewalk that led to the house. I could see lots of movement just beyond the screen door, rowdy teenagers making the most of a no-parents-around scenario.
Chase’s hand gave mine a squeeze and I exhaled suddenly. I hadn’t realized how nervous I was for this party until just now. Excited, anxious, even a bit hopeful, but the peer pressure and teenage revelry that waited just beyond the door weighed down
my constricting chest. Memories of my last house part, of Sam and our breakup…. of everything that happened that night rushed at my emotions like a speeding train while I stayed trapped and tied to the rails, just waiting for it to run over me…. a helpless damsel in distress silently screaming to be rescued.
I was kind of pathetic….
“Hey, we don’t have to go if you’re not up for it,” Chase assured me. His voice
stayed calm and soothing, completely out of place from the atmosphere waiting for us inside.
“No,
it’s fine,” I said quickly, hoping to shake off my own fears as much as his worry over me. “It’s just been a while since…. you know…. I’ve been around all this.” I gestured vaguely at the house and then jumped out of the car before I could let myself think about this any longer. My hand ripped out of Chase’s in the process and after slamming the car door I stayed put until he could join me.
When he rounded the car and held out his hand to me again I took it quickly
, breathing in the comforting warmth of Chase’s skin over mine. I offered a confident smile that I did not feel and tried to push away all my worry. I just needed to remind myself that I was hanging out with Chase and nothing more. There would be no unnecessary drama tonight, no fights, or breakups or out of control drinking. Phoenix would only throw a completely relaxed, chill party. Nothing like the night of the accident.
A shiver wracked my body, but I fought it down. I found as much strength and control as I could, pulling on the set of skills I saved for when Nix was around and then walked up the little sidewalk to Phoenix’s front door. Without knocking we entered the thrall and were immediately entrenched in party. The faint smell of casual narcotics drifted through the air and red plastic cups covered every available surface. A couple of kids I recognized from lunch but didn’t really know were playing the Wii in the living room and there was intense, but good-natured shouting coming up from the basement. The kitchen was through the living room and dining room and that was where Chase
led me, never letting go of my hand, never letting go of me.
We weaved through sweaty, drunken bodies and came up for air in a relatively empty kitchen. Phoenix turned around from the counter looking surprisingly sober although he was currently holding a bottle of cheap vodka in one hand and a two liter of Sierra Mist Cranberry Splash in the other.
“Ivy!” Phoenix bellowed. “You made it!”
“Hey, Phoenix,” I called over the loud music pumping from an
iDock on the counter.
He tilted his head to Chase and t
hen wiggled both beverages at me with lanky arms looking all elbows and knees. I shook my head, “No thank you.”
“Chase?”
Chase shook his head to decline and then brushed his hand across the dark gray Formica countertop testing it to see if it was sticky or not. When he was satisfied that it wasn’t he leaned against it and pulled me next to him. I rested with my hip gently next to his, he was taller than me so mine fell a little below his, but the pressure of his body against mine helped ease the tension I felt creeping into my neck. His hand left mine to snake around my waist and I worked to keep a smile off my face when his hands splayed strong and confident against the thin silk of my top. Chase felt natural, easy. He was thoughtful and careful. I liked that. I liked that so much. But there wasn’t much between us other than physical attraction and a little bit of easy banter.
If things were different I could get to know him, take things slow and
actually let myself fall for
him
.
But things weren’t different and I could never let myself go down that path again.
Not ever again.
“Not drinking tonight, Phoenix?” I asked. He had made a drink mixing the two liquids in his hand
but then passed it off to the first girl who walked through the kitchen on her way to the backyard. She thanked him with a slight slur and droopy eyelids. She was for sure going to be puking that same drink up in no time.
“No thanks,” Phoenix grunted. “My parents condone the parties, but they don’t have to clean them up. I need to stay sober so I can make sure nobody gets sick on the furniture or carpet. Plus there’s the hookups that have to be broken up, the breakables that need saving and the noise level that has to remain neighborhood friendly.”
“Really? You always stay sober at your own parties? It’s like you’re babysitting everyone. That doesn’t seem fair,” I sympathized with the host.
Chase gave a soft laugh, “Phoenix always stays sober, it doesn’t matter whose party we’re at.”
Phoenix winked at me before grabbing another plastic cup. He walked over to the freezer to fill it with ice and then with soda and soda alone. “Some of us like to be have fun the old fashioned way,” he explained. “And I’m not the only one.”
“You too?” I asked Chase, craning my neck so I could look him in the eyes.
He just shrugged in response; I felt the movement of his shoulder against my back. His hand around my waist gripped my hip and pulled me closer to him. His body felt warm against me, his hand sturdy, holding me possessively to him.
“Well, don’t I just feel like the worst kind of heathen,” I grumbled. “If you guys don’t like to drink, then why have these parties?” I asked, completely dumfounded.
More shrugging. Was it too much to ask for complete sentences?
“Is it a popularity thing?” I pressed.
“It’s more like, everyone knows my parents are super relaxed about this kind of thing so they all just expect me to have them. If I don’t announce a party, one inevitably happens anyway just because people start to show up and then they call their friends and more people show up. If I invite people over, I have more say over when they happen. Plus, I usually wait for my parents to be out of town so that if the cops were ever to show up at least they wouldn’t be charged for allowing minors to drink and smoke. Plus, I need to arrange for my sisters and brother to go somewhere for the night.”
I gaped at Phoenix. “How very responsible of you, but it seems like a lot of work for you when you don’t even want this trouble to begin with.”
“That’s not true,” Phoenix defended and gestured around the house with two outstretched arms. “I like having people over. I like having parties. I just don’t like to lose control.”
I stood quiet long enough for our silence to be interrupted by violent retching coming from just outside the back door. I shot Phoenix a doubtful look but he just grinned in response.
“Ok, maybe I don’t like the cleanup part, but at least that was outside. My mom has enough flowers, they destroy my allergies anyway,” Phoenix’s eyes were glinting with mischief and I couldn’t tell if he was being serious or not.
“Really?” I asked unable to keep the skepticism out of my tone.
“His Zen is genetic. You should meet his parents. You could rob them at gunpoint and they would still ask you to dinner and make sure you got everything valuable in the house,” Chase explained and I wondered if that was true.
“Which wouldn’t be much,” Phoenix laughed.
“The weed has to be expensive,” I countered and then wondered if that was appropriate.
Phoenix just grinned wider, turning his happy face into a cartoon. “True. Very true. They could always take the drugs.”
“But then again you just give them away at your parties, so why bother with the gun?” Chase spoke up.
“Better to get them out of my house then have my little sisters find them,” Phoenix’s expression finally turned grim and I realized that maybe these parties were part of protecting his family.
If that was the case then I could understand his motives.
I had my own little sister to protect.
“Well, well, well if it isn’t our boy Fred,” Phoenix’s smile came back in full force and he reached out a hand to do the boy-hand-shake thing with Ryder.
“Fred?” I asked before I could stop myself.
Ryder turned his eyes on me and held my gaze for a long moment before answering. I felt like he was drinking me in, absorbing me into his reality. I shivered against Chase, not sure how I felt about the raw intensity Ryder always looked at me with. It was unnerving and made me feel vulnerable and exposed. I decided that I absolutely hated it.
At the same time I loved it.
“Sure, Fred,” he responded, his voice low and a bit gruff. “And Shaggy,” he nodded at Phoenix. “And Scooby.”
I felt Chase’s chest vibrate with laughter behind me.
“Shaggy makes sense,” I snapped my head toward Phoenix. “You look exactly like a Shaggy.”
“Groovy.”
“But you smell way too good to be a dog, sorry,” I looked up at Chase. His eyes twinkled down at me, his expression soft and sweet. “So that makes you, Daphne?” I asked Kenna when she trailed into the kitchen, two of her friends on either side.
“Yep!” She grinned at me and then threw her arms around Ryder’s waist. “We’re auditioning for a Velma. Ivy, you in?”
“I’ll think about it,” I said pensively. “I look like a lumpy pumpkin in orange, but it could open all kinds of doors for me as a private eye. So, yeah… maybe.”
“You do understand becoming Velma means you have to have friends?” Ryder warned with a note too close to serious for me.
“I have friends,” I grumbled. I leaned back into Chase, inhaling his warm comfort.
“Boyfriends,” one of Kenna’s friends snorted.
“Boyfriend,” Chase corrected and then looked down at me to make sure it was Ok to say that. I waggled my eyebrows at him flirtatiously, but felt my heart turn five shades darker with the knowledge he wouldn’t be for long.
Kenna cleared her throat and tried to cover for her rude friends. “Ivy, do you know Blair and Reagan?”
“Nice to meet you both.” I tried to be charming and friendly and…. nonthreatening, but there was no way a friendship with any of these girls stood a chance.