It’s been two days.
Since the shoe closet incident.
I refuse to point out the real reason why my mood has been a little dark. He never called. And I’m okay with that. No, I’m not. Yes, I am. There was going to come a time where life intervened in our little fantasy world. That rabbit hole of Chase Green was going to catch up to me sooner or later and I would have been spat out. It’s better it happens now before I get too attached.
Because what I am now is not attached.
I’m attached.
I hate men.
Maybe Stacey is right. There can’t be any way I could understand why love is so flawed. Maybe because I have never gotten close enough to it to really know.
I don’t have to work tonight, but I have to make things right with Dex sooner or later. I walk into Anchor, it being a Sunday night, so it’s pretty tame. A live band plays for open mic night and a few patrons are sitting at tables. I don’t see Randy, which means she’s also off, but I do see Dex. He is casually leaning against the back of the bar, his arms crossed over his chest, listening to the band.
“Hey, stranger,” I chirp, sitting on the bar stool. He doesn’t expect me, so he looks shocked at first. Once he’s able to compose himself, he turns away from me.
“What do you want, Beller?”
“Oh, I’m Beller now?” I tease. He turns my way and his eyes don’t look very playful. Got it. “Okay, sorry. I just wanted to come by and apologize for the other night.”
Still staring at me, I can tell he’s trying to figure me out. The alien in front of him that has taken over my body, actually apologizing for something. In return, I offer him my sad puppy eyes, knowing he can’t say no to that.
A few more seconds.
Okay, maybe a few more after that.
There it is. Resolution. I see it. He knows it.
He slowly unwraps his arms and walks toward me, leaning over the bar, so his face is close to mine. “If you ever get drunk like that again in my bar while you’re on the clock, you’re fired.”
I don’t speak. I’ve never been a ‘yes, man,’ so I nod my head. His eyes tell me he accepts my apology, but he looks like he’s searching for more.
“Who’s the guy from the call?”
“Huh?”
“The pretty boy. Is that him?”
Him equals Chase. But I’m going to play dumb. It’s safer. “Not sure who you’re—”
“Kat, are you fucking that guy? Are you with someone?”
Way to just lay it all out there.
I don’t want to lie to Dex. He has been there for me since the moment we met. Put away all the bad shit when we attempted, crashed and burned as a couple, he truly is a great guy. And that’s why I only semi lie.
“No, Dex, I’m not dating or fucking him. He’s just a friend.”
And that’s not totally a lie. I’m not fucking him. At the moment he may or may not be a friend. That is still out for debate. Just then the band finishes, the applauses breaking our moment. Dex pulls way, knowing he has to settle with the band, and that leaves me with a scapegoat.
“So, does this mean I still have a job?” I ask, standing myself. He turns to me. That look that tells me he always wants to say more.
“You know your schedule. Don’t fuckin’ be late.”
Ahhh, always the hard-ass. I offer him my smile that he tries to grunt at, but I know he loves, and head out. I may suck at love, or whatever it’s called. But at least I still have a job.
I work a double on Monday. Tracy, the day shift bartender, called in sick, and Dex told me this was my payback. I pretended to whine and moan, but I was already out the door before we hung up. I had been in my house for almost three days, and if I sulked any more, asked my damn bird for advice or tested out that damn online magic eight ball, I was going to commit my own damn self to the ‘you are pathetic, read your own book’ asylum.
Tuesdays are always pretty busy, so the night went by fast.By the time I get home, my feet are killing me and I just want to pass out on my floor while pulling my jeans off.
“I knew I couldn’t trust you, newer shoes. On long days it’s the older ones who always stick by me.” Mumbling, I throw my ‘newer’ Converse at the back of my closet. I pick up the second shoe to chuck it when I hear the buzzing. I freeze mid toss to hear it again. I drop my back to the ground and stretch so I can see my clock on the nightstand.
Two in the morning.
Our normal chat time.
My heartrate spikes, and I panic. My brain is screaming for me to answer my phone while my body lies in my closet frozen in time. It takes a good mental beating for me to snap out of it and shift up and run for my phone.
It’s then I see it.
Bates Motel FaceTime calling.
Shit.
I panic.
Do I answer? Ignore? Yes, you answer! Outrageous.
Shit!
I go against my battling brain and swipe right, accepting the call. And once I do, I remember what I probably look like.
SHIT!
“Hi, Katie Beller.” My name rolls gently off his tongue.
“Hey.” My nerves are practically choking me, and it’s apparent in my voice.
“Is it okay that I called this late?”
I take in his appearance, and as I always prefer, he’s shirtless. Inspecting his surroundings, he’s in another hotel room, the bedding not familiar to his own.
“Yeah, sure. Unless you’re calling to get hostile with me. In that case you can just send a text. It seems hipper nowadays to break things off in text messages.” Shut up, Katie.
His eyes widen with confusion. “Shit, do you want that?”
Now I’m confused. “Chase, you haven’t called me in over three days. You told me you were less than pleased with my work establishment, then hung up on me. What else would I think?”
His eyes look wounded. His free hand threads through his hair. His lids are briefly closing. “I’m sorry about that.” His eyes reopen and I see something in them. Conflict? Uncertainty?
“Hey, listen, it’s fine. If you want out of whatever this is, it’s fine—”
“Katie, stop.” He sits up, bringing his phone closer, allowing me to see every beautiful feature, including the stress etched on his face. “Katie…” Saying my name again, and every second he doesn’t finish that goddamn sentence, I lose those seconds off my life.
“I miss you, Katie Beller. Like fucking hell.”
My breath stalls.
“I’m so sorry for our fight. I said some shitty things. I’m shitty.”
“You’re not shitty, Chase.” It’s rare I use his first name.
“No, I am. What I said about your work. I didn’t mean it. I would love you—I mean, I would love any place you worked at. I wouldn’t care. I just want to continue to still be a part of your little world.”
My heart starts racing. The emotions I’ve been pretending don’t exist are suddenly working their way up my throat. I feel as if I’m being pulled in two different directions. My heart wants one thing while my brain is fighting it. And my brain isn’t giving up very easily.
“I have to ask.” God, I fear the answer. “The last time we spoke. A woman. You hung up on me. Who was—”
“My sister. Just my sister.”
Relief washes over me. I was worried he was going to tell me worse. His expression looks worse off, though. Maybe all this isn’t to win me back or to create a future between us. Maybe it’s just to ease his conscience. Dammit!
“What do you want from me, Chase?” It’s a simple question but allows for an array of deeper answers. I would take the simple response. Accept the short route out of this. But I also need to know.
“I want you, Katie Beller.”
“But why? Why me, Chase?” My voice cracks, the intake of breath almost choking me.
“Because you do something to me. When I’m not getting to look into those spelled eyes, I’m unsettled. When I can’t hear your voice, it offsets me. When I can’t watch you chew on your lip when you’re close to losing it, I lose everything. Sleep, focus, care for anything.” He pauses just enough to catch his own breath. “Please don’t get in your head about us. I’m sorry I didn’t call. I’m an ass. Fuck, I was fucking jealous of that guy carrying you. I acted like a dick. But I can’t take it back. And I’m so damn sorry.”
Being on FaceTime doesn’t allow you to hide your emotions. I can’t mask the tears welling up behind my eyelids.
“Say something, please.”
I slowly inhale air into my lungs. I’m strung tight in a trap of emotions I’m not used to. I’ve been living the motto that the only thing in life that matters, the only steps I take that are important, are the ones I do myself. But with Chase. I see this vision. This future. That he may be in it. And that scares the fuck out of me. I have this heart that’s been dead or just seriously broken for most of my life coming alive and wanting to beat the hell out of my chest just at the thought of him. And that seriously freaks the shit out of me even more.
But hearing him confess, his pleas for us to be an us. To be something. That does something to me too. Gives me hope? Fills that empty dark place I’ve secretly wished to have filled? I always thought I missed my chance at this. And maybe I haven’t.
Sometimes with Chase it feels like I can’t breathe. He suffocates me with all the emotions he causes me to feel. Sadly, I question, is this the “aka” love that all those people talk about? Or is this the real thing? Is this why it hurts and feels so strong? If I don’t open up to Chase, will I be missing my chance?
There may always be that doubt about us and how different we are. I will always be who I am. And he will be him. But maybe life has something up its sleeve for us. Opposites attract and all that shit. I just don’t want to miss my chance. And by being so scared of the ‘what might bes’ with Chase, I might do that.
I just need to take that goddamn leap.
Jump off that cliff, in serious hopes that Chase and his words catch me along the way.
“I miss you too, Chase Green like the color,” I reply just above a whisper.
I’m not weak by any means, but there will always be something Chase Green does to me. “Weak in the knees” by SWV is sadly playing in my head during this serious moment, but fuck it. He makes me feel like nothing I have ever experienced, and that song was seriously awesome in the nineties. I offer him a reassuring smile and the relief on his face is evident. His fingers lift, as he touches his screen.
“Thank you for not giving up on me.”
I blush, as if I can feel the warmth of his fingers caressing my cheek. “You don’t have to thank me,” I say, feeling suddenly shy.
“I do. Because if I messed this up, then I wouldn’t have been able to forgive myself.” He sits up straighter, his shoulders going up and down with each deep breath. “Not being able to see you, hear you. God, I want nothing more than to touch those lips for real. Not just this FaceTime bullshit. I need you. All of you.” His words mimic exactly what’s swirling in my head. It’s been so long since Chicago. “Tell me you’re signing up for the next event in Denver. Because if you tell me no, I’ll fucking kidnap you and force you to—”
“I’m going to sign up for the rest of the tour,” I blurt out. I hadn’t made up my mind. Kristen has been blasting my phone with creative emojis wanting an answer, but I still wasn’t sure.
But right now.
Listening to him.
I am.
“You’re coming.”
“Well, not at this moment. But on the rest of the tour, yes.”
His eyes light with that special Chase Green Mischievous. “If you were here with me right now, I’d make you come so hard you’d lose feeling in your legs.”
At that I laugh. I imagine he probably could succeed at that. I love the way his smile reaches his eyes. He looks happy. Far from the man in the beginning of our phone call. God, I missed our chats. These intimate moments, where we felt free to be ourselves. I snuggle into my bed, bringing my knees to my chest.
“Well, that sounds like a challenge, Green. But just my legs? Sounds half ass if you ask me.” My skin breaks out in a feverish layer of goosebumps at the darkness his eyes overtake. My hands rise to touch my neck of their own accord. My fingers brush at my neckline, knowing this is one of his favorite spots.
“You’re evil. You know my dick is hard as stone right now.” He maneuvers so he’s using only one hand to hold his phone.
My imagination is working overtime on where his other hand just disappeared to. I bring my hand in between my breastbone, sliding it down my belly button, just to the lining of my underwear.
“Do you think it’s comparable to how wet I am?” I know I’ve won this one when I notice his arm movement. He’s stroking himself. “I wish you were here so I could show you. Have your fingers deep inside me. Soaking them.” I close my eyes and dip my fingers inside my panties. Lo and behold, I’m actually drenched. I hum as I begin to pleasure myself, the mental image of his beautiful, thick fingers on my mind.
“You’re killing me, baby.” His voice is hoarse and I can tell he’s working himself harder. “Show me your pussy. I want to see what you’re doing to yourself.”
Without care, I flip the phone so it views outward and he gets an eyeful of my hand working myself in a lustful frenzy.
“Fucking beautiful. I want to be there sucking on you, my tongue inside you, my finger so deep, you’re fighting for air, the pleasure overbearing. Yeah. Faster. Fuck, fuck…”
I begin to clench, my thighs fighting not to close. I moan Chase’s name loudly as I explode all over my finger. I hear Chase’s brutal grunt and know he’s right behind me.
Feeling sated and perfect, I almost don’t open my eyes. I flip the phone view back on myself and pop one lazy eye open. “That was fun.”
“We need to do this in the flesh and soon.”
Agreed.
Chase starts into a light conversation about his day, telling me about some important scouting for an NHL hockey team. If he catches the eye of some big-time scouts, there’s a chance he could be drafted to the big times, and all his problems would go away.
I yawn, asking him what problems he’s referring to, and his response is generic, telling me the one where we are a hundred miles apart.
I feel like I blink and when I open my eyes again, I notice my phone is resting on my chest. I look at the time and it’s almost five in the morning. I pick up my phone, but Chase is gone.
“Oh, shit.” I must have fallen asleep on the phone. I notice I have a missed text message.
Bates Motel: Thank you for showing me this amazing happiness I never knew existed. Sweet dreams, Katie Beller.
I clutch my phone to my chest, as I turn to my side and snuggle into my pillow.
No, thank you, Chase Green, for showing me how to live again.