Chainsaw Massacre

 

Chapter Twenty

 

 

Its past midnight and I can’t sleep. Some idiot in the room next to me won’t stop blasting his music. So he leaves me no choice.

I get out of bed, grab my room key and leave my room, following the music to the room exactly next to mine. I bang on the thick wooden door as hard as I can. A tall, lanky college-looking guy stands shirtless in front of me. I glare at him.

“Hey?” College-boy says. He grins a boyish grin that I’m sure has made many girls hearts stop in his lifetime.

“Could you turn down your music please?” I ask, opting for politeness. College-boy can’t hear me.

“I’m sorry, I can’t hear you!” College-boy shouts over the music. I roll my eyes. Of course he can’t. It’s like a freaking club in here.

He holds up a hand and disappears into his room. A minute later, the music is slightly (and I do mean slightly) lowered and a minute after that he reappears.

“What were you saying?” College-boy asks me. I think mean thoughts, getting out all of my pent-up anger, hurt, and frustration. I am so sick of self-centered jerks. So, okay, maybe it’s unfair. But I let him have it.

“What’s your name, sweetie?” I ask sweetly, batting my eye lashes for dramatic effect. I’m working my charm, as I did all through my high school years with people from principals to janitors. I can see College-boy melt a little, like I do whenever I feel Chase watching me with his intensely blue eyes. The thoughts piss me off even more, which means that this poor College-boy is going to be having a real hard time in the next ten minutes.

“Oliver,” College-boy says a little dreamily, his eyes wandering over my body. I glare at him when he’s not looking, but as soon as he looks at my face I’m all angelic.

“Well, Oliver,” I say, putting special emphasis on his name, which causes him to melt even more. I continue. “I’ve had a very tough night, and I’m all alone in my room over there,” I point to my slightly ajar door, and Oliver licks his lips. Filthy, dirty, cheating man- w****s. That is the downfall of today’s world. I bat my lashes. “So I was wondering if you could, possibly be a dear and do me a really, really big favor?” The suggestion hangs in the air, and I leave Oliver to make his own conclusions. Like the dirt-bag that I assumed he would be, he raises his eyebrows, eyes once again travelling over my body. I feel violated.

“Y-yeah, absolutely,” He stutters, licking his lips again. I smile wickedly, leaning closer to him. He is too stunned to move, so when I finally lean in close enough to whisper in his ear I feel like the least he could’ve done is meet me halfway.

I clench my teeth but smile invitingly at Oliver.

“If you don’t turn your gay little party tunes off the minute I walk away from this door, I’m going to buy a chainsaw and cut down your door. Then I’m going to hack away the very expensive stereos which I’m sure you “borrowed” from Best Buy. And I’ll leave you to explain the stolen stereos in your room, massacred to bits, to the authorities, which I will personally call myself. But that’s not all. No, if I hear even a word from you when I end this conversation, I’m going to use that very same chainsaw to chase you out of this town, so you can run back to your frat-boy friends at college and whine to daddy about how your life just sucks. Mmkay, pumpkin?” I pull away from Oliver, leaving him, red-faced and stunned.

Alright, maybe I was a little hard on him.

I turn to walk away, but one word stops me. “B***h,” Oliver sneers. I turn around, raise an eyebrow and make a revving up the chainsaw gesture, complete with the saw noise.

“Careful, frat-boy.” I say, before walking back to my bed and breakfast room. I’m sure I’m just crazy enough right about now that Oliver probably believes that I’ll follow through with my threat. Two minutes later, I’m positive he believes that because his music turns down so low that I can’t hear it.

With nothing left to do, I adjust the heat so that it’s toasty, and then climb into the cozy little bed that is now mine. As soon as the quilted comforter is enveloping me in a warm cocoon, I yearn for my bed at the Davenport residence, with its “sea-foam green” silk bed sheets, and hundreds of pillows. I yearn for Chase, and Margaret, Brody and Logan. I yearn for my parents.

I cry.

A knock at the door pulls me out of my large pity-party. I groan and get out of bed, flipping on only one light so that the room is dim behind me. I don’t bother checking who it is through the peep-hole. I don’t really give a crap.

I ardently change my mind when I see Chase standing in front of me. Naturally, he looks like something carved out of freaking marble. Perfect, flawless, cold.

But he doesn’t really look cold, with his perfect cheekbones, intense blue eyes, full lips, and firm jaw. He looks warm, inviting. He impatiently swipes away his shaggy brown hair from his eyes.

“What, for the love of God, could you possibly want?” I ask, shooting laser beams of hatred at him with my eyes.

“You, Skye. I want you.” Chase says, as if he’s the star in some movie and that line was made for him.

“Perfectly scripted.” I murmur to myself, ignoring the butterflies in my stomach. D****t, I love him. I really, really love him. Even though I’m trying my best to hate him right now I can’t.

“Skye, listen to me...” He starts. I don’t let him finish.

“No.” I say, trying to sound as angry as I can.

I see a glint in Chase’s eye. “Fine, don’t listen to me. Respond to me without talking.” He says, and before I can stop him his lips are on mine, his hands tangling in my hair. His lips are hard on mine, passionate. I break the kiss minutes later, breathing heavily, while trying to form coherent thoughts. But, obviously, I can’t.

Chase’s lips travel slowly—agonizingly slowly—down my throat to the hollow spot in my collarbone. I feel him smile slightly against my skin and I fight off a wave of shivers. And as his lips occupy themselves with my neck, I do exactly what Chase predicted I’d do. I respond to him.

Without warning, my hands are all over Chase: in his shaggy hair, on his face, on his back, creeping to the bottom of his shirt which I tug up.

Chase sighs happily and he takes a step into my room, pressing his back against the back of the door as it shuts. He lifts his arms so I can pull his shirt off over his head, dropping it on the floor without thought. My hands press against his stomach which is hard with muscle. I close my eyes as Chase’s lips find their way back to mine. I feel his tongue flick over my bottom lip and I feel like I’m going to faint. I pull away when I realize that I’m digging my nails into Chase’s abs.

“Sorry!” I murmur against his bare chest. He smiles into my hair and my lips wander back to meet his. As I deepen the kiss, my hands on his upper arms, I feel his biceps suddenly flex until I realize why. Chase lifts me off the ground by the waist—like I weigh nothing—and I wrap my legs around his waist, my arms wrapping around his neck. He walks us over to the small couch that had moments before been sitting, untouched. He sits down slowly, my legs still wrapped around him, so that I’m now sitting in his arms.

I have to break away, to breathe, and the moment I do I feel a force—me—pulling my lips back to Chase’s. My hands are on either side of his perfect face, his lips pressed against the corner of my jaw, when I get a very sudden, very unwelcome memory.

Elena wrapped around Chase in the kitchen, lips on his fervently.

I gasp at the sudden hurt I feel and Chase takes the gasp as a good thing. Seconds before, it would have been. His hands are tangled in my hair as his lips find a very sensitive spot under my ear which has me shivering in bliss. But the hurt is still there—powerful, consuming.

I press my hands against Chase’s chest and push myself away from him. Chase looks confused at first, but when he sees my face, crumpled in hurt, he takes my face in his hands.

I try to jerk my face away from his grasp but he’s too strong. Despite his hold, his hands are gentle, like a caress. My stomach churns.

“Talk to me, Skye.” He says; his voice rough. I close my eyes.

“I don’t want to talk to you.” I say impatiently. “Remember?” Chase’s eyes twinkle.

“My mind seems to have been otherwise entertained.” He explains. I fight the pain that is opening in my heart with every word he speaks. Every word he has probably repeated to some other girl—if not Elena, someone else. Beautiful people like him don’t just fall in love. They date. They use. They cheat.

“You need to leave.” I say harshly. Chase makes a point of looking down, at my legs wrapped around him and I blush, trying to move them away so he can get up. He catches my legs by the knees and keeps them glued on either side of him on the couch.

“You don’t need to go anywhere.” He says, his eyes locking on mine intimately. I close my eyes again, wishing it was just me and him in my head and not hundreds of faceless girls, all long-legged and beautiful.

“Please,” I whisper. “Just go.”

Chase waits for me to open my eyes, and when I do I wish I hadn’t. He’s so stunning.

“What happened with Elena—“he starts, knowing exactly where my thoughts are. I flush, remembering my embarrassment, my hurt.

“I don’t want to hear it. You’re sorry; you didn’t mean to hurt me, etcetera etcetera. Am I right?” I ask him sarcastically, covering my pain in sarcasm.

Chase still has both hands glued to either side of my face. “What do I have to do to make you believe me when I tell you that it meant nothing?”

“I don’t care what it meant!” I shriek, horrified. “Why did you even do it?” I ask, without wanting an answer.

I see a muscle twitch in Chase’s jaw. “Do you know what Elena’s Talent is?” He asks me, out of nowhere.

I blink. “Uh, no?”

“She’s an Illusionist.” He says, frustrated with me. I blink again.

“What is that?” I finally ask, quietly. Maybe this wasn’t so out-of-nowhere.

“She can make people see whatever she wants them to see. Say, for example, that she wanted you to believe that Logan jumped off a cliff. With her Talent, she can create the Illusion of a cliff, with Logan on it. She can then proceed to make you see him jump; when in reality Logan is safe at home playing video games with Brody. She can make you see things that never happened.” He pauses, his hands still on either side of my face as his words sink in.

“Why...should I believe you?” I ask, slowly, watching his face. The same muscle in his jaw twitches.

“Have I ever lied to you?” He counters; his face serious. I frown, thinking about it.

“Yes,” I say quietly, so quietly I don’t think he hears me. I can tell by his facial expression that he heard me. “You told me that you loved me.” I whisper.

Chase’s face turns from horror, to confusion and adoration.

“I do love you.” He tells me, his thumb brushing against my bottom lip softly. I shiver involuntarily, watching his face to see if he’s lying. As far as I can tell, he’s dead serious.

I frown in confusion. “But you can’t love me.” I say, nose crinkling. “Because I love you.”

Chase laughs, the throaty sound filling me instantly with happiness.

“Then why are you so confused?” He asks me patiently. I think about it.

“Because I reallylove you. And for you to love me back would be…too fairytale.” I say, realizing how stupid I sound. He loves me! He loves me!

“Then I guess that makes me your knight in shining armor.” Chase says, grinning. I smile.

“I knew I was the damsel in distress.” I say, fake pouting. Chase pulls my face to his, kissing me softly.

“You, Skye, can be anything you want to be.” He whispers against my lips. I smile.

“What if I wanted to be a garbage woman?” I ask, all innocence. Chase laughs loudly.

“Then you may not smell delicious, but you could take my garbage any day.” He says, kissing me again. I can’t stop smiling.

“I already do take your garbage.” I say, joking. Chase grins.

“She didn’t.” He murmurs in a mix of fake shock and hurt. He tickles my ribs. I squeal and jump up from the couch, untangling my legs from around him, and run before he can catch me. I’m laughing too hard to run anywhere though, and when Chase catches me in a hug/tackle, lifting me off the ground and into his arms, I laugh even harder into his shirt. When he sets me down, he tucks a piece of hair behind my ear and leans down to kiss me gently on the forehead, grinning. I smile.

“Promise me you’ll never lose that laugh.” Chase says to me, and I realize that this is the first time I’ve laughed in months.

“I promise, Chase.” I say, looking up into his sparkling blue eyes. He grins.

“Let’s go home.” He says, turning around and picking up my suitcase with one hand, holding my hand with the other.

Home, I like the sound of that. “If you promise to stop tickling me, I’ll go anywhere with you.” I say, while realizing the hole in my heart—the one that was constantly hurting—is starting to close up. I grin at Chase, who grins back.

“London?” He asks me, opening the door and closing it behind us.

“Especially London,” I reply, following him down the hall of the bed and breakfast, down the stairs, into the main room. He checks out for me while I take my suitcase to his Porsche. I sigh contently once I’m in the familiar leather seats.

I don’t want to ever feel like I did B.C. Which is, of course, Before Chase. Because this feeling, the feeling that nothing can hurt me as long as I have Chase, is one I would pay to hold onto.

Reviews

[Anya]

oh that's better. I feel so happy for them! What they have is very sweet. Another wonderful chapter! I did laugh with the music in the other room bit- very funny :)

Keep going with this book! it really is incredible! :)

[Rusty]

I enjoy your character..Sky's humor it's nice....I wish your chapters were longer, but I enjoy them just the same.