Say Hi to Your Mother

 

Chapter Eleven

 

We all get out of Brody’s car—a sleek Mercedes—and step into the fresh air of the night, I’m practically high off of life. I’ve actually never known what that saying meant, but I think I have a pretty good idea now. A semi-good idea at least.

Brody links elbows with me and we walk together, grinning, up to the a bright red door. Logan and Chase walk behind us, both looking like they totally belong at a party, but both not wanting to be at said party. I shoot a glare at Chase, a “be happy!” glare, if that makes sense. He doesn’t seem to be effected by it, however, and before I can say anything to him the red door opens and a tall guy with a goatee is standing with a red plastic cup in his hand. He looks at the three guys in front of him and I can see him shrink back a little. He then notices me and grins wide.

“Skye, you came!” He says happily. Meet Todd Shippe, older brother of a senior at my school. He’s a really cool guy (and I can even forgive him for the goatee), so I’m glad I decided to come to his party after all. Behind him I can see girls and guys dancing to the catchy beat of the music, holding red plastic cups in their hands, alcohol sloshing around messily. I can see Chase tense—he’s my guard, and I take him to a party with alcohol? Maybe not my smartest move. I look at Todd, who stares at me expectantly. Oh! He wants me to say something.

 “Of course I came. I said I would, didn’t I?” I smile. Todd tries too, but eyes the brothers warily. “Todd, this is Chase, Logan and Brody. Guys, this is Todd.” I say, making introductions. Brody grins at Todd, his blaringly white teeth sparkling as if he’s an ad for toothpaste. Todd reaches out a hand almost mechanically and shakes Brody’s hand. Brody looks confused at first, but then shakes Todd’s hand back. Next, Todd shakes Logan’s and then Chase’s. I almost expect Chase to haul me away from the red door, stuff me back into Brody’s car, and then drive me back to the “safe house”. But instead he shakes Todd’s hand, eyeing him threateningly. I try not to roll my eyes as a muscle in Chase’s arm flinches, and Todd sees it, stepping back warily the way guys do when they realize another guy is a way different league than he is. “So, can we come in?” I tease Todd. He nods distractedly and pulls open the door a little wider. Brody immediately wanders over to a couple of petite girls with big…smiles, and I grin. He is definitely a party person.

Logan catches the eye of a pretty redhead and wanders over to talk to her. These guys, I tell you, are having better luck than any of the guys at my school ever do. No wonder, too. They’ve all got this cool air of confidence about them, intimidating enough to make you cautious, attractive enough to pull you in.

The only brother who doesn’t leave my side is Chase. At first I’m confused to as why—there have been plenty of girls shooting him flirtatious glances. But then I realize: he’s my guard. He is not going to let me out of his sight. I sigh and look at Chase.

“I’m dancing.” I tell him, and wander over to the large group of people who are dancing. Chase grabs my arm.

“I don’t dance.” He says to me, his eyes dark. I shrug.

“I didn’t ask you to,” I say and before he can protest I add, “I’m a big girl, Chase. I can dance without getting hurt.” I smile before walking away from Chase, leaving him to be attacked by a group of girls, all heavily made-up, their hair fluffed. As I walk to the “dance floor” I see Chase use his irresistible grin on a couple of the girls, and like I knew they would, they swoon.

I fight off a wave of anger at Chase and start to dance to the loud music. I close my eyes, loosing myself in the rhythm, not thinking about anything but the flashing lights and beating music in Todd’s spacious house. The whole house is dark—dimmed, colorful lights—and the music is so loud I’m surprised we haven’t got any complaints. It’s easy to get lost in the feeling of dancing, and before long my arms are above my head as I move my hips to the thrum, thrum, thrum of the music. Suddenly, I feel a body behind me.

At first I’m too into the music to care about the very close body dancing with me, but after the next song begins and the body doesn’t move, I turn around.

An average height guy, with buzzed hair, and brooding eyes stands there, staring at me longingly. I shiver. Something about him is creepy.

And not in that I-think-he-may-be-in-love-with-me-that’s-so-creepy kind of way. More in that I-think-this-guy-wants-to-kill-me-and-its-scaring-the-crap-out-of-me kind of way.

I raise my eyebrows at the guy, people moving around us, all swinging hips and shaking hair.

“Hi,” he says quietly, sending chills down my back. And I’m not talking about the sort of chills that I get when Chase talks to me. These are a whole new class of chills.

“Um, hey.” I say hesitantly. The guy smiles, almost cruelly. I shiver again.

“You want a drink?” He asks me, his eyes sparking. I shake my head at the offered drink. My head flashes back to sophomore year health class and all I can think is there may be drugs in that drink, Skye, don’t you dare take that cup from him.

And I don’t. Even when he keeps asking, his voice turning urgent. I shake my head more persistently.

“Look, I said no okay? Leave me alone.” My voice is hard, angry. The guy shakes his head slightly at me and smiles slightly, evilly again. I back away but am pushed right back—close to the creeper guy—by the dancing bodies.

“Come with me,” the guy says. I shake my head again.

“I don’t want to. Leave me alone.” I say, pronouncing alone so rudely that I’m afraid the guy will explode in rage and…hit me or something. Where are the brothers when I need them? And how am I going to get myself out of this situation? The guy takes a step close to me. “Seriously, dude. I don’t know what your problem is, but I am not interested. Get away from me!” I shriek as he keeps stepping close to that out feet are touching. His breath is sticky and warm on my face and I shudder at the smell of alcohol on his breath. I try not to gag.

“You’re coming with me.” He says threateningly. My stomach clenches in worry. “And if you don’t like it, you can go to hell.” He adds, smiling slightly.

I feel anger boil up and before I can stop myself I say, “If I do go to hell, I’ll be sure to say hi to your mother for you.”

I can see the guy freeze, and before I can do anything else, he’s shoving me out of the dancing crowd and down a dark hallway. My stomach is doing a crazy number of things out of fear, and I try to ignore the pain. My upper arm is being gripped by the guy’s arm and he’s pulling me further and further away from the crowd. He stops at an open door, kicks it open, and pushes me inside. I try to snatch my arm away so I can make a break for it—plus, hello, that hurts—but his grip is so tight I can barely move.

“Help—“ I try to yell, but his hand covers my mouth roughly and my scream is cut off. Not that anyone would hear me scream, anyway. The music’s too loud for that. My heart starts to beat faster as he pushes me against the wall roughly and I try to snatch my arm away again. I even try to bite the hand covering my mouth, which only causes the guy to slip his hand away from my mouth and under my shirt, pressing against my stomach.

I fight the urge to throw up. His breath is hot on my face and again I try to scream but before I can the guy throws a fist into my stomach, effectively winding me.

Hot damn, guys punch hard!

I collapse onto the floor, curling into a ball, and am yanked roughly to my feet by the guy. He smiles sickly at me and holds me against the wall, my shoulders in his grip. I wince away from his hands as they go under my shirt, pressing against my shoulder again. They inch upwards and I try unsuccessfully multiple times to twist away from him, to get away.

“If you don’t stop moving, lovely, I’m going to have to hit you again.” He says. I feel my eyes begin to water and I try to shove against the guy, to get away, and he sighs, bringing a fist against my face.

My mouth fills with a metallic taste that I recognize as blood and I whimper. I’m brought to my feet again and shoved once more against the wall.

“Please,” I whisper urgently. “Please don’t.”

The guy laughs cruelly and tears at my shirt—one of Logan’s old dress shirts ripped up fashionably—and the buttons fall against the wood floor. With my shirt in the guy’s hands, he throws it to the side and presses his hands against my bare stomach. I try again to twist away, but can’t. Fear begins to sink in—heavily—and I feel my eyes begin to water again.

Just as the guy presses his drunken, slobbery lips to mine the door bangs open and I try to push the guy away, taking advantage of his surprise at the noise. He growls and throws out a hand, hitting me across the face again.

I hold up a hand reflexively to my face, feeling warm blood trickle onto my fingers. I keep my hand pressed to the side of my face, and look to see who is at the door.

The guy who had seconds before been pressing himself against me is laying on the floor, curled around his arm protectively. Above him, stands a familiar figure, shaded by the shadows. He’s breathing heavily, out of anger it seems, and his hands are balled into fists. The muscles in his arms swell as he picks up the guy off of the floor and shoves him to his feet. Before I can even blink, my rescuer slams a fist into my assaulters face, sending him stumbling back onto the floor.

I realize, in the second the light falls on the guy’s face, who it is. And I realize what he plans on doing.

“Chase,” I say lowly. His head turns towards me, his eyes dark and hooded—angry. “Let’s go.”

Chase ignores me and again picks the guy up off of the floor and punches him. The guy groans, spitting blood, and lays in a heap on the floor. I shiver. “Please, Chase.” I say again, pleading. I walk up to him, pulling on his sleeve, while he stares, hatred clear in his eye, at the guy on the floor, moaning in pain. I realize if I don’t stop him he’ll probably kill him, whether intentionally or not. I plead with Chase some more, and finally, he turns away reluctantly from the guy on the floor and gently pushes me in front of him, as if to block me from the guy.

Before I reach the door, Chase grabs my arm to stop me from walking. “Wha—“I say, but then realize that I don’t have a shirt on. I’m standing in my bra, in front of Chase, shivering, and I didn’t even realize it?

Did I mention how mentally insane I am?

Chase shrugs out of his sweater and passes it to me. I can’t find it in me to put it on and I can hear him sigh, pulling it over my head for me. The eyes of the guy are stuck in my head, the cruel smile, and the taste of alcohol still in my mouth. I try not to gag again.

Chase wraps an arm around my shoulders and steers me out of the room and into the hallway, towards the party. I buck.

My face is stinging, and I realize its probably swelling. I bet I look so beautiful right now. Not.

Chase takes my hand in his, the warmth of it comforting to me, and leads me through the people dancing and through more crowds, until finally, we’re outside. The fresh air whips against my face, making it sting some more. I lift a hand to my cheek, and my lip, and feel slippery blood on my fingers. We’re at Brody’s car and since it’s unlocked, I climb into the backseat, Chase right behind me. Seconds later, Brody opens the driver’s door and climbs in, followed by Logan.

Brody turns around and sees Chase’s face first—hardened into a mask of fury and hate. Then he turns and sees mine—most likely cut up a little bit and bleeding a little. His eyes turn surprised.

“Whoa, Skye. What happened?” He asks, concerned. Logan swivels around in his chair, getting a look at my face too.

He winces and looks at my sadly. Somehow I think he understands not to ask any questions though, and he turns around, staring at the road. Brody repeats himself. “Skye, what happ—“

“Drive, Brody.” Chase says menacingly from the back seat, his eyes dark and angry. Brody looks at his brother and then nods, turning around, brining the vehicle to life. We drive in silence for a few minutes before Logan and Brody start talking to each other in mumbles.

I sit with my head pressed to the window, surrounded by Chase’s way-too-big sweater. Chase turns and looks at me. He reaches out a hand cautiously, and turns my face gently towards him, getting a look at my injured cheek.

I flinch when he touches my face, and he drops his hand. I suddenly feel bad for flinching away from his touch—if there’s any hand on my face I want it’s his—and I pick up his hand, lacing my fingers into it.

“So, do I totally look like Two-Face right now, or what?” I ask, half-jokingly.

Chase doesn’t smile. “Skye…he didn’t—I mean, I got there but he…he didn’t…” Chase doesn’t seem to know how to put into words what he’s trying to say so I help him out.

“No, he didn’t. You got there before he could.” I say quietly. Chase nods, and lifts his free hand to my face, wiping away blood from my cheekbone, from right under my eye. His thumb moves softly over my cheek, and I feel my heart flutter. He moves his hand, his thumb wiping away blood from my bottom lip. I tremble a little, and Chase notices. Before he can pull his hand away I look into his dark eyes and whisper, “thank you.”

Chase’s eyes look sad, troubled, and still angry. But there’s something else there too—tenderness.

I realize we’re at their house, and I see Brody focus on the clearing before the house appears.

Logan gets out of the car and walks with Brody into the house, leaving Chase and I alone. His hand is still on my cheek, cradling it now, and our other hands are entwined on the seat between us.

Without thinking, I slide over on my seat, closer to Chase. He watches me carefully. I want nothing more than to press my lips against Chase’s right now, but I know that I can’t. I wouldn’t be able too. Not with the taste of alcohol from that guys mouth on my lips.

Instead, I wrap my arms around Chase’s neck, and his big, warm arms wrap around my back, pulling my in for a hug. We sit like that, embraced, for what seems like hours, while hot tears stream down my face, and while Chase rubs a soothing hand against my back. I shiver in his oversized sweater and Chase pulls me onto his lap, cradling me in his arms, comforting me. This, is what I needed after all. I didn’t need kissing, I needed comforting. And somehow Chase knew that. Somehow he always knows what I need.

Reviews

[Rusty]

So I'm jacked to read several more chapters, I'm really into your characters,except for the two brothers..I don't really get a good feel of their personalities, Logan and Brody. You might want to try and give them distinct ways of being, acting...ect, and maybe when Brody talks to Skye about her feelings for Chase maybe don't have Brody give too much stuff away this early in the book. I really like your book and can't wait to read more, fantasy is my favorite and you're book has me enthrolled and wanting more, can't wait for more chapters.

[Anya]

oh my.... that was an amazing chapter. Beautifully constructed and with stunning wording. My heart was thumping throughout the first bit with the guy who tried to assault her. I was scared for her. Your stunning writing made me feel like I was there, in the room with Skye. The last part was also breath taking. Very sweet but in a beautiful way. I can feel, as though I am there, the 'link' almost between Chase and Skye. I'm very, very much looking forward to the next chapter. I can't wait!