Chapter 12

Chance

MY PHONE STARTED blowing up shortly before midnight, waking me from a deep sleep. I clicked on my bedside lap and grabbed my phone from the nightstand. It took me several seconds to recognize the girl in the picture staring back at me, but once I did, my eyes nearly bugged out of my head.

“What the fuck?” I muttered to myself, as I started scrolling through all the messages.

Melany: I got new hair!

Melany: And Devon taught me how to put on make cut.

Melany: *mac truck

Melany: MAKEUP! Effing auto concept!

Melany: AUTOCORRECT

Melany: I LOBE TEQUILA

Melany: *love. Not lobe. Who lobes something?

Melany: do you lobe stuff Chance?

Melany: hehehe. I said lobe again.

Melany: that’s a funny word.

Melany: Tomas is my new best friend.

Melany: and Connie’s son had a rotten orange in his backback.

Melany: *backpack!!!

Melany: isn’t that HILARIOUS!

“Jesus Christ,” I grunted, clicking out of my texts and pulling Melany’s name up in my contacts. It rang three times before her slurred voice came through the line.

“Chance! Hi!”

A smile tugged at my lips as loud music filtered through the background. “Just how much tequila have you had, babe?”

“Uh… a whole bunch. I got new hair! Did you see?” she yelled. Obviously, a drunk Melany thought she had to scream everything.

“I did, honey. It looks really pretty, but try and focus, okay? How drunk are you?”

“Oh! Like… super drunk. It’s AWESOME!”

I couldn’t have held in my laughter if I wanted to. Melany was cute on any given day, but a trashed Mel was even fucking cuter. “You know how you’re getting home?”

“We’re gonna take a cab. I got Connie with me.”

My forehead wrinkled as I tried to recall if I’d ever heard that name before. “Who’s Connie?”

“Constance,” she answered. “My BFF.”

“BFF?”

“Yeah! Best friend for life! Accept now I think Tomas is my BFF. I love him.” Her voice dropped to a loud whisper as she continued. “But don’t tell Constance. She doesn’t know I replaced her. But I’ve always wanted a gay best friend! And. He’s. AWESOME!”

“Concentrate, sweetheart,” I ordered gently. “Are you and Constance okay to get home by yourselves or do you need me to come get you?”

“Aww,” she cried. “That’s so sweet! You’re the sweetest, Chance! Did you know that? And I love it when you call me sweetheart… and honey. It makes me feel special.”

Christ, I could barely keep up with a goddamned word she was saying, but one thing was for sure, my gut twisted in a way that was far from unpleasant when she said I made her feel special. Fuck me, but I liked that. Unfortunately, what she said next doused the flame her previous words had ignited in my blood.

“Oh! Hey! Wanna hear something funny? Devon thought there was something going on between us.” Her laughter was near deafening, and I cringed as I pulled the phone away from my ear. “Isn’t that insane? She actually thought you could be interested in me. I mean, I know I’m pretty now because of the hair and makeup, but come on!” Another peal of laughter came through the line. “Isn’t that crazy!”

An irrational stab of anger caused my chest to tighten painfully, like it was being squeezed in a vise. “Not particularly,” I growled. Hearing her speak negatively about herself made my blood run cold. I know she said she’d had experiences in her past that had played a factor in how she was now, but I suddenly wanted all the details, particularly names, so I could find those men and beat the ever-loving shit out of them for making her think less of herself.

“Whatever,” she giggled. “None of them thought it was funny either. Ooh! I gotta go! Constance and Tomas are having a dance-off! I don’t want to miss it!”

She disconnected before I could get a word in. And I still wasn’t comfortable with the thought of her and her best friend taking a cab home drunk in the middle of the night, so I scrolled through my contacts once more.

“Surprised you’re calling this late,” Collin said in lieu of hello.

“I wouldn’t be if I hadn’t just gotten off the phone with your drunk-as-hell assistant. What the hell is going on over there?”

He sighed. “Last time I checked, they were shooting tequila and butchering the words to Eminem songs, so I didn’t stick around to see what else they’d get up to. I’m next door at my cousin’s.”

Throwing my legs over the side of the bed, I braced my elbows on my knees and ran my free hand through my hair. “Can you just… make sure she gets home okay? She is wasted.”

His deep laugh resonated in my ear. “What, you got a thing for her, or something?”

No way was I having a heart to heart with Collin Locklaine about my feelings for Melany. The shit would never end. “We’re friends, man. Will you just make sure?”

“Yeah. I’ll make sure. But she’s going to be feeling it tomorrow, that’s for damn certain. Thought I stepped into the Twilight Zone when I opened my door and found my timid little assistant with a totally different hair color, dancing on the coffee table to Def Leppard. Christ, there are some things you just can’t un-see.

I laughed at the image he painted in my head and rung off, turning out the light and falling back to bed. One thing was for sure, though. She was going to be regretting life come tomorrow morning.

And that worked perfectly for me, because I was going to be the one on her doorstep with a sure-fire hangover cure. The plan was still to help her gain confidence, but at the same time, I was going to do anything and everything I could to insinuate myself into her life as someone she eventually came to depend on. Once I achieved that, I’d make my move.

Melany

I WAS PRETTY sure my head was split open and my brains were spilling out onto my pillow. And it tasted like something had died in my mouth.

Memories from the night before were a blur. I couldn’t piece anything together to make any sense. What in the world had happened last night?

I remembered wine… and cosmos… and tequila shots.

Oh God. Tequila. At just the thought of that vile Devil drink, my stomach lurched, sending a wave of nausea up my throat.

“Holy balls,” I groaned as I tried to sit up, the movement making my aching brain hurt even worse. I was never, ever drinking again.

And shit! How had I gotten home? Had I woken my mother up? I really hoped not. I didn’t think I could tolerate her attitude this morning, not with what was certain to be a life-threatening hangover.

With a pained moan, I turned and put my feet on the floor, my entire body protesting the motion. Closing my eyes, I breathed deeply through the churning in my stomach, willing its contents to stay put. I hadn’t enjoyed the taste of the tequila the night before, and I had no desire to re-visit it again.

Just as I’d gotten it under control, the doorbell rang. My eyes popped open, and I moved too quickly to look at the clock. It was barely 8:00 a.m. Who the hell was ringing my doorbell at eight in the morning on a Saturday?

Knowing the noise would disturb my mother, I stood as quickly as my foggy brain would allow, grabbed my robe from the foot of my bed, and began moving. The bell sounded again as I hit the landing at the top of the stairs. I prepared to run down, but knew I was too late when I heard my mother’s angry voice.

“Who the hell is that this damn early?”

Rushing down the stairs, I mumbled quickly, “I’ll get it. Go back to sleep.” Before I reached the door, I chanced a quick glance into the living room to see her fall back down on the couch. With a sigh of relief, I pulled the door open, but the second I saw who was standing on the front stoop, the air stalled in my lungs and throat. It was like a nightmare come true.

“Ch-chance? What are you doing here?”

His face split in a beautiful grin as he held up a white paper bag, the bottom of which was covered in grease spots. “Hangover cure. Figured you’d need it.”

That was so sweet; so damn sweet that, despite my head pounding like a marching band had taken up residence, I could have kissed him right on the mouth, but I had to get him out of there before my mother got curious and came to the door. I didn’t want him to see that part of my life. I liked how he was looking at me just then, how he always looked at me: like I mattered. But if he met my mother and saw just how hideous she really was, he would start looking at me differently.

And I wouldn’t have been able to handle that.

“Uh…” I shot a nervous look over my shoulder to make sure Mom was still on the couch and stepped onto the stoop, forcing Chance to move back to make room for me. “Th-thanks. I’ll just…,” I stuttered, reaching out for the bag, only to have him yank it out of my reach.

My eyebrows shot into a deep V as he asked, “Aren’t you going to invite me in?”

“I-I… I…” My anxiety began to twist my already sensitive stomach onto knots as my head shot back and forth between Chance and the front door. “It’s not, um… suitable for c-company. W-what I mean… uh.” I felt my cheeks begin to burn as he studied me with curiosity. “My house is a mess!” I exclaimed a little too loudly, my voice ringing inside my skull and causing me to wince.

“I don’t care about that.” He took a step closer, and I quickly cut in front of him.

“Can you just…” Holding up my hands in a placating gesture, I struggled to think of what to say. “Just… give me a minute, okay? I’ll be right back, I promise.”

Without giving him a chance to respond, I rushed through the front door and locked it behind me. Taking the steps two at a time, I reached my room and quickly yanked on the first pair of jeans and T-shirt I got my hands on. I slipped my feet into a discarded pair of ballet flats and headed for the bathroom to brush that foul taste out of my mouth.

I was momentarily startled when I caught sight of my reflection. In all the imbibing I’d done last night, and the pain I was in this morning, I’d forgotten about the extensive makeover. The best I could do in such a rush was wipe the smudged mascara from under my eyes and throw my now dark locks into a ponytail.

“That’s as good as it’s going to get,” I grumbled as I ran back down the stairs. At least my mouth no longer tasted like I’d eaten hot garbage. I pulled my purse from the hook, swung the door open, and hurried through, using my keys to lock it behind me. “Let’s go.” I forced a cheerful smile I most certainly wasn’t feeling as Chance watched me with a discombobulated expression on his face.

“Where are we going?” he asked, as he followed me from the front stoop to the pavement below.

“There’s a nice little park just down the block from here. And it’s such a pretty day, I figured we’d eat outside.” And I don’t want you to meet my mother and judge me based on her terrible personality, I added in my head.

We’d just reached the entrance of the park when he asked, “Aren’t you hungover?”

Yes. Yes, I absolutely was. But I was willing to face the sun’s blinding rays over what inviting him into my house would lead to.

“I feel fine,” I chirped, as I took a seat at a nearby picnic table.

The look on his face as he unearthed a couple of bottles of orange juice and two deliciously greasy breakfast sandwiches from the bag in his hand said he wasn’t buying it. “Now, you want to tell me the real reason you wouldn’t let me in?”

Desperate to avoid answering, I picked up one of the sandwiches, unwrapped it, and took a massive bite, groaning with pleasure as I chewed and swallowed. “I don’t know if it’s the tequila still in my bloodstream or something else, but this is the best breakfast sandwich ever!”