So Damn Beautiful (A New Adult Romance) (32 page)

“Annie, I’m not in a rush. It’s a long game,
you know?” he’d said, kissing me on the forehead and rubbing my
hands between his own.

“So now you’re using sports analogies to
describe our relationship?” I’d joked. “In that case, you probably
think of this as a foul more than a slam dunk.”

He’d laughed at that. “Sometimes I think
everything in life is just a game, but the scoreboard is never
static. Seriously, I’m not going anywhere, and that’s one thing you
can count on.”

I appreciated his steadfastness, although why
he liked me so much was a little mind-boggling. I was still in a
state of confusion over what the best way to deal with Harrison
might be. Using him as a crutch made me feel pretty low, but I was
sure that if I gave it time and space, my feelings for Chase would
eventually dissipate. They just had to.

The next few days, I was wrapped in a haze of
schoolwork and gloomy weather. Finally, Thanksgiving was here, and
the crispness in the air gave way to an icy chill. We were only two
weeks away from the Quentin Pierce opening, and I hadn’t gotten any
sign from Chase that he had kept to his agreement and would still
be making something for the show. When I’d last visited him at his
warehouse, he’d told me that I didn’t have to worry about the mural
getting finished, but I wondered if his integrity had given way to
resentment and bruised feelings, especially after our unpleasant
confrontation at Bell Book & Candle.

I sent Chase a flurry of civil yet
businesslike texts, but all I got was radio silence. I was
beginning to panic. If I stopped to consider it, I knew he had no
real incentive to continue. His reasons for doing the show were
mysterious and muddled to begin with, and now that we were no
longer together, I couldn’t imagine why he’d feel any sort of
obligation to me.

As I lay on my bed with my medieval
art–history textbook, I ran my fingers over my hip and looked down
at my tattoo with sadness and consternation. Kendra was right—it
had been impulsive and stupid of me to go through with it, but at
the time, a white-hot passion that had felt frighteningly clear had
eclipsed everything else. The idea of being Chase’s—forever—was
less wishful thinking than an observation of the naked truth. Even
now, with all that had happened, the tattoo felt like a final
psychic link between him and me.

I closed my eyes and imagined the dark,
somber look in his eyes when I’d told him, in no uncertain terms,
that I was with Harrison. It made my heart break to think I had
hurt Chase, but what other choice did I have? I’d jumped into an
undesirable situation headfirst, not because I didn’t know any
better but because being around Chase altered my senses to the
extent that I wasn’t sure if up was down and night was day. Every
last instinct of mine wanted to reach for Chase and never let him
go, but I’d gotten my rude awakening: Chase was unstable,
dangerous, and definitely not boyfriend material. Not the way
Harrison was.

Even though I knew I had to stay away from
Chase, I didn’t have much of a choice but to find him, to determine
once and for all what was going on with his piece for the art
opening. The days were getting shorter, so it was already dark when
I took the 5 to the South Bronx, to a permission wall where I knew
Chase and his crew hung out on the regular. These days, Chase
didn’t seem to be frequenting the Meatpacking District, and the
permission wall was typically inactive during the colder season
anyway. Besides, there was a part of me that enjoyed going back to
the grittiness and authenticity of the graffiti art that festooned
every surface of the South Bronx. There was a rawness and beauty to
all of it that I’d been aching for, ever since Chase and I had
broken up.

Reynaldo, Pike, and a few other of Chase’s
friends, whose names I’d forgotten, were gathered around a
crumbling concrete wall, throwing up a medley of colorful tags.
Some of them were also covering the fire hydrants and sidewalks.
Their letterforms and typography weren’t as effortless or clean as
Chase’s, but their enthusiasm felt almost as infectious.

“Hey, guys,” I said somewhat tentatively as I
approached. Most of them were so fixated on what they were doing
that they simply ignored me, but Pike and Reynaldo turned around.
Their expressions were inscrutable; I might as well have been an
irksome bystander, rather than someone who’d been on an urban
spelunking expedition with them in the murkiest subway tunnels just
a few weeks ago.

Pike nodded in acknowledgment. Reynaldo
frowned and ran his hand over his bald head.

“Um, I’m looking for Chase. Have you seen him
around?”

Pike tipped his head slightly and looked at
Reynaldo. “He’s been working, yo. And I’m not exactly sure he’d be
thrilled to see you.”

My heart sank at the coldness of his words,
but I persisted. “Do you know where he’s been working? I’ve been
trying to get in touch with him, and . . . and I really need to see
him, to talk to him.”

“What about?” Reynaldo said, clearly
uninterested as he embellished his tag with dark-blue spray.

“Well,” I started, not wanting to reveal too
much, “it’s about a project we’re working on together. We have a
deadline coming up, and I need to . . . to consult with him.”

“
Consult
?” Reynaldo seemed to think
that word was hilarious, and proceeded to erupt into a fit of
laughter.

Pike rolled his eyes. “Chase is good, but he
ain’t no professional. We don’t
consult
and shit—we just
do
.”

I could feel my jaw tightening. “Do you have
any idea where he might be?”

The two looked at each other. Reynaldo
smirked at me. “The last I saw him, he was with some chick at the
Silver Edge. Lil’ mama was sexy as hell! And the way they were
vibing, I could see why he didn’t stick around for too long.”

I frowned. I couldn’t tell if they were lying
to me or not.

Pike queried, “What do
you
care,
anyway? You’re still with that frat-boy douche, right? At least,
that’s what Chase says.”

I tried to be patient. “Look, I really need
to know where Chase is. You may not want to help me, but it’s
really important.”

“Chase hasn’t been hanging out here the last
few days. No bombing, no piecing, no nothing,” Pike said. “He won’t
say what’s up, but I have a pretty good idea.”

Reynaldo piped up, “Yeah, so why don’t you
just head back to the classroom or something? Chase doesn’t need
some preppy bitch fucking with his head and messing up his
game.”

“Messing up his game?” I asked.

“I’m getting sick of this conversation.
Besides, you might wanna vamoose before the cops get here,” said
Reynaldo, waving his fingers in a mocking simulation of something
fearful heading this way.

“Great, thanks a lot, guys. Thanks for
nothing,” I mumbled as I walked away. I was clearly not going to
get anywhere talking to Pike and Reynaldo, but I knew on some level
I shouldn’t be offended; after all, they were just protecting their
friend.

So I went to the only other place I suspected
Chase might be: his warehouse. I had been hoping I could find him
on safer turf, somewhere out on the street. I was afraid that if I
found myself in his home, I’d be too weak to resist my yearning for
him, which seemed to have increased its fever pitch over the last
several days, no matter how much I fought to deny it.

It’s just business, Annie. You don’t even
have to go inside
, I assured myself.

The warehouse wasn’t too far away, but I
still felt nervous as I pulled up the collar of my jacket and kept
my head down, walking briskly down the street, attempting to ignore
the catcalls of homeless people and the cold curiosity of
prostitutes. When I got to Chase’s, I ran up the several flights of
metal steps and pounded on his door. My heart was racing. Part of
me wanted him to be there, and the other part of me feared what
would happen if he actually was.

I didn’t have to wait too long. Chase
answered the door. The sight of him made me feel slightly dizzy and
warm. He was shirtless, wearing only simple drawstring pajama
pants. His skin had a slight sheen, as if he’d just gotten out of
the shower. His beautiful face was blank for a moment, and then a
mixture of emotions flashed: bewilderment, anger, longing.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” he
said.

Before I could respond, I heard a familiar
voice in the background. A female voice. “Who is that, Chase? Can
we maybe get some delivery? Chinese or Indian?” The faceless woman
laughed. “After that little workout you gave me, I’m starved.”

Chase and I exchanged glances, and a world of
information was conveyed in that split second.

“Annie, I . . .”

It felt like I was hearing him through a
giant tunnel of white noise. I could barely concentrate on what was
happening. I glanced past his shoulder, and there she was. Elsie
was standing behind him, her black hair plastered wetly to her
shoulders. She was wearing nothing except a giant towel wrapped
around her body. At that moment, she also noticed me, but her
astonishment quickly gave way to a thin, self-satisfied smile.

“Oh, hi, Annie!” Her peppiness almost sounded
genuine. I wanted to murder her.

I stared at Chase blankly. I must have looked
like I was in a state of paralysis, because the expression of
concern on his face was paramount.

“How . . . could you . . . ?” I breathed,
feeling my pulse beating up a storm.

“Annie, c’mon. Let’s talk about this,” he
said, reaching out to touch my shoulder.

I wrenched away from his grasp and ran back
down the stairs into the night air, which felt like a welcome
reprieve from the claustrophobia and heat I’d felt in the span of
moments. But he was right on my heels.

“Annie, stop!”

I whirled around, practically spitting out my
words. “You’re fucking sick, you know that? Elsie Donegan?
Really
?”

“Calm the fuck down, Annie! You’re not
exactly in a position to school me about decency here.”

I shook my head, so infuriated I could barely
speak. “Where did you even meet her? Was it at the Silver Edge?
That’s what your friends told me.”

He ran his fingers through his hair. I
noticed, for the first time, that his eyes were bloodshot. “Look,
she’s the one who approached me.”

I laughed mordantly. “Of course. Of
course
Chase Adams can’t keep it in his pants when someone
flatters his ego!”

He swallowed hard, and I could tell it was
taking all his strength not to scream back at me.

At that moment, Elsie came outside. She was
dressed and carrying a giant Prada tote. She came up behind Chase
and smiled innocently at us. “What’s going on, guys?” she said, as
if we were three friends just casually hanging out.

I wanted to slug her in her face. Chase
seemed to read it in my eyes. “What’s going on is that you were
just leaving,” he said coldly.

Elsie gave him a playful pout. She was
obviously pretending not to notice the shitstorm she’d just
generated. “Too bad—we could’ve had more fun—but I need to
skedaddle anyway.” She laughed and looked over at me to see how I
was reacting. “I can’t believe I only woke up thirty minutes ago.
This might’ve been the first time I’ve spent the entire day
sleeping. I’d prefer to be doing other things, but I had a blast
last night all the same. Call me later, ’kay?” She gave him a peck
on the cheek and sashayed cheerfully off to her car.

I was trembling, not so much because of the
cold but because I still couldn’t process any of this. “I can’t
believe you. This can’t be happening!” I finally said, but I didn’t
recognize my own voice.

Chase attempted to reach out for me, but I
slapped his hand away. “Annie . . .”

“Shut up, just shut up! This is the lowest
thing you could possibly have done to get back at me.”

“Look, I didn’t even know you knew each
other, okay? Like I said, she was the one who started talking to me
. . . I’d had a few drinks—”

“So that gave you carte blanche to fuck
Elsie?”

“I didn’t fuck Elsie! She ended up crashing
here, but nothing happened between us, I swear. I was way too
wasted to do anything.”

I shook my head, not knowing whether I could
believe him or not. “How did you even meet her?”

“She came by Tuff City Tattoos, and I was
there. She said she’d been looking for me, something about wanting
to learn more about graffiti ’cause she’s some kind of artist.”

I laughed, and the sound of it was terrible
to my ears. “Some kind of artist is right! She’s mastered the art
of being a conniving piece of garbage!”

Chase’s eyes were pained. “I’m sorry, Annie.
I didn’t mean to—”

“It doesn’t matter,” I snapped. “I didn’t
come here to break up your little . . . whatever the hell you want
to call it with Elsie. I came here to talk about the mural, the one
you promised you’d deliver on for Quentin Pierce.”

He shook his head. “Fuck the mural, Annie. We
need to talk.”

I crossed my arms. “Talk?” I sputtered. “It
seems to me you’re way better at fucking than talking.”

He started to say something but then just
tightened his jaw and looked at me, poker-faced and hard.

“Let’s not pretend there’s anything left
between us, Chase,” I said. “All I want is to see the mural. We
have a binding contract, and I expect you to honor it.”

He rubbed his chin and glared at me. “For
real, Annie? It’s all about the bottom line with you, isn’t it? I
guess I never saw you that way before.”

“I guess you don’t really know me, then,” I
snapped. “You are well aware of what you signed up for. Now, can we
just get this over with?”

The stony look in his eyes gave way to fire
and forcefulness. I gasped and stepped back, almost afraid of what
he was going to do.