The Rush (The Siren Series)

CHAPTER Fifteen



“Hey gorgeous,” Chase called.

I practically ran from the door of my building to meet him at the passenger side door of his car, which was not easy in heeled boots. Nix and my mother were watching from way above us, I knew it instinctively and I was in a hurry to get out of here, to get far, far, far away from them. I gave my most charming smile when Chase opened the door for me and threw my arms around his neck in an exaggerated show of affection.

“Hey yourself,” I whispered against his neck.

I felt his surprise when our bodies collided, but it took no time for him to return the gesture and wrap his arms around my waist. He stayed the perfect gentleman however and released me exactly on time. I gave him one more happy-grin and then slid onto the cool leather seat.

The warm autumn day had turned uncomfortably chilly once the sun went down. If only the full moon offered as much heat as the sun. My pleated, high-waist shorts did nothing to prevent the cold from seeping into my skin, despite the thick charcoal tights I wore underneath them. I hugged my oversized purse to my chest, trying to fight the chill that had seeped into my bones, but it wasn’t until Chase pulled out onto the main street that I felt capable of finding warmth again.

“It’s good to see you,” Chase breathed a little self-consciously. My gut clenched in frustration. The curse worked fast, I knew that from too many years of experience, and I hated that he was already starting to feel attached.

At the same time what choice did I have?

Or he have?

“It’s good to see you too,” I replied. “I’m excited for this party! Last night was so awful; you have no idea. I need to get away for a while.”

“Oh yeah? My family’s kind of crazy too,” Chase laughed.

“Not as crazy as mine, trust me,” I sighed. “But what makes your family crazy?” I asked because I genuinely wanted to know, because even though I knew I would win a who-has-worse-problems debate, I couldn’t imagine Chase having actual issues with his parents. He seemed way too stable and adjusted.

“Ugh, mostly my parents,” he groaned. “They are so stressed out about college, it’s out of control. My older brother went to Northwestern on an academic full-ride and they have equally high hopes for me. But recently I was thinking maybe instead of division one traditional, I would pursue something smaller, something liberal arts focused….” Chase trailed off as if waiting for me to completely reject the idea or at least try to talk him out of it. Since I was basically obsessed with the idea of college and knew I would never get the chance to go I generally tried not to judge other peoples choices. I wasn’t going to start with Chase’s, he knew himself better than I did and besides all that small-liberal-arts-college-thing kind of sounded cool. When I stayed silent he continued, “So anyway, my parents are pretty flipped over that. They don’t think I can get a decent education and especially not a decent job. Last night they even bribed me with this insane spring break trip if I would burn all my unapproved by them letters of acceptance.”

I laughed at the absurdity of his parents’ incentive, “What is an insane spring break trip anyway?”

“Cancun, no questions asked, limitless allowance,” he ticked off as if each idea were more ridiculous than the last. “I don’t want any of that. I want to go to school for something I like, something I’m passionate about. Besides, I don’t believe for one second that my mom could actually not ask any questions. It would be the third degree as soon as I got home and probably an appointment to test for STD’s.”

“Which would of course be smart after an insane trip to Cancun,” I laughed and Chase joined in.

“You have to know I’m not like that,” he grumbled and I did know. No way was Chase the one night stand with Random Girls kind of guy. Which was going to make this so much harder than I wanted it to be. He had one week left.

“I know,” I agreed softly. “So what is it that you want to do? What’s at a liberal arts college that isn’t anywhere else?”

“Uh,” Chase stalled a minute while playing with the dials on the radio. “I’m thinking about Carleton College. It’s in Minnesota so not so far from home, and they have a smaller campus, small classrooms and all that.”

“Ok,” I smiled patiently at him. “And what would you be learning in those classrooms?”

He gave me a crooked smile, staring at me with those deep blue eyes of his and flashing his dimples before turning his eyes back to the road. It was like he was deciding if he could trust me or not.

But the thing was…. he couldn’t.

Or at least he shouldn’t.

“Social science,” he finally admitted, sounding completely embarrassed.

I fumbled with thoughts of how to turn that into career and came up completely empty-handed. “No wonder your parents are concerned for your future,” I joked.

“Hey now,” he shot me a playful glower and then explained “I want to run campaigns, like political campaigns. Start at the city and state level, like mayoral and state senators and then eventually work my way up to larger scale elections.”

“One day, presidential?” I guessed. I admired his ambition, his quiet dreams that were held with such obviously fierce resolve.

“Maybe,” he answered quietly, his cheeks heating with an embarrassed flush. “One day.”

“I love that,” I whispered. And I did. We were silent for a full minute before I announced decidedly, “Don’t take the trip of debauchery. You need to go to Carleton.”

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 then 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.

“Whatever,” Reagan, a girl with rich chocolate shoulder length layers and a spattering of freckles underneath artsy, green glasses sighed. She didn’t even seem like the snotty type. She totally came off as the nose-in-a-book-wouldn’t-hurt-a-fly type. It was me. I brought out the worst in all of humanity. “Ready, Ken?”

“Where are you ladies off to?” Ryder asked looking Kenna directly in the eye. A weird kind of tension filled the room and it made me wonder if the happy couple had been fighting earlier.

“The backyard,” Kenna replied sweetly, kissing Ryder’s jaw line.

“Are you kidding me?” Ryder did not even try to conceal his irritation and I had to assume the backyard was generally the worst of the partying.

“Relax, Ryder,” Kenna whispered sharply. “Blair just wants to find Hayden and then I’ll come back in.”

“Whatever, Ken,” Ryder wiggled out of Kenna’s arms. Kenna’s pretty face scrunched irritably and she turned her back on him in a gesture of dismissal. Ryder turned away from her too, but straight to me. The tension in the air grew thick and ugly and settled a heavy silence over us until Ryder broke it. “Ready?” he asked, his gaze holding mine fiercely.

“F-for what?” I was afraid of the answer, his eyes had melted into gunmetal pools of intensity and I didn’t want to be caught in the crossfire of whatever was going on with him and Kenna. I hated that he put me between them, like he was using me to get back at his girlfriend. At the same time this was the first time I had been used against another female. I mean, guys had left girls for me, sure, but never with the intention of going back to the relationship. And even now I knew Ryder had no intention of leaving Kenna for me. This was innocent.

Well as innocent as trifling manipulation went.

I was used to way worse behavior than this.

“Austin Powers? Remember? We have to make sure your sins against humanity are absolved?” The teasing tone was back in his voice but he was studiously ignoring Kenna and her friends like they weren’t even there. Kenna rolled her eyes and pushed her friend Reagan through the kitchen and to the back door. Her silky black hair floated in waves around her slender shoulders. She was somehow prettier when she was mad, her green eyes alive with a fire that was usually dimmed and subtle.

“Uh, sure,” I answered inarticulately. “Ryder thinks my life isn’t complete until I watch this dumb movie,” I explained to Chase who was watching me with mild amusement. “Up for it?”

“First of all, Ryder’s right. You need to watch this movie, it’s absolutely essential to your present and future happiness. And I am up for it, but first I need to find Nick Barrett and rip him a new a*shole.” Chase kind of mumbled his last sentence while staring out the window over the kitchen sink. Something had apparently caught his attention because he was letting me go and almost sprinting out the back door before I could ask him any questions.

I gave a curious glance to Phoenix but his attention was on the backyard too. “That little shit,” he mumbled and flew off after Chase.

“What in the world?” I turned to Ryder.

“Nick Barrett’s the only good keeper we have and he’s missed the last three indoor games. Chase is one of the captains and it looks like he’s about to find out why.” Ryder explained. He hardly glanced in the backyard. I would have loved to turn around to find out what was going on, but Ryder had hypnotized me with one of his paralyzing looks again and I was helpless against his power.

“Soccer stuff?” I clarified since I kind of felt like Ryder was speaking a foreign language.

“Yep. Let’s go,” Ryder commanded and then turned his back on me. “They’ll come up and find us when they’re done.”

“Up?” Somehow Ryder had reduced me to one word replies. I was turning into a caveman.

“To Phoenix’s room.”

And then he was gone, through the kitchen, the dining room and to the staircase in the living room that led to the bedrooms. I gulped loudly but no one was left to hear me. Released from Ryder’s hold I glanced in the backyard to take note of the heated argument between Chase, Phoenix and a scruffy Jesus-impersonator with long hair and barely filled in facial hair, who I could only assume was Nick Barrett.

“Let’s go Pierce,” Ryder called from halfway up the stairs.

I gulped again but obeyed. Shouldn’t someone besides me be concerned that I was going to a quiet bedroom with Ryder alone? I mean, right? I could not be trusted. Not at all.

A million different excuses ran around in my head, all vying to be the first one spoken out loud. But instead of doing the right thing, the smart thing, I snapped my mouth closed and followed Ryder up the stairs and said a quick prayer that Chase would follow soon.