So Damn Beautiful (A New Adult Romance) (30 page)

“But they were in a
gang
. I mean, what
if they had guns?”

“I could tell they didn’t. Getting into
scuffles is just par for the course up around here.” He seemed to
stiffen at what I was sure he perceived to be my judging tone.
“That’s why you make sure you have a good crew, to keep you out of
the bigger trouble.”

“So if your boys were there . . . why were
you the only one who got arrested?”

He opened the fridge and took the vodka
bottle out. “I’m the only one who talked back to the fuzz when they
finally got there,” he said, taking an extralong swig from the
bottle. When he put it down, his eyes narrowed in irritation. “Why
the third degree, Goldilocks?”

“What do you expect?” I cried out. “You
didn’t call me for days, and now you spring
this
on me? How
do you want me to react?”

He slammed the bottle down on his kitchen
counter. “You think I’m a fuckup, don’t you?” he said in a quiet,
accusatory voice.

“I didn’t say that, Chase.”

He shook his head slowly. “You didn’t have
to. I can read you, Annie. And I knew you wouldn’t get it.”

“Chase—”

He held up a hand to stop me. “If you want
your money back, Pike owes me a few thousand. I can get that to you
next week at the latest.”

I couldn’t believe my ears. “Chase, it’s not
about the fucking money! I don’t care about that!”

He raised his voice, too. “If it’s not about
the money, then stop acting so high and mighty! It’s just jail—it’s
not like I killed someone!” His eyes were practically bulging from
rage as he tipped the bottle back again and drank like it was
water. It was a terrifying sight, and I could feel myself backing
away from him slowly. I’d heard of jail’s capacity to turn
mild-mannered guys into ticking time bombs, and Chase wasn’t
exactly mild-mannered to begin with, so I felt almost afraid of
what he might be capable of.

Chase dropped the empty bottle to the ground
and moved toward me. Instinctively, I took a few steps back. “The
past couple days have put me on edge. I was afraid that someone was
gonna give up my LunaBomber alias, but thankfully that didn’t
happen.”

If I’d been fearful moments before, I was
livid now. “You were
afraid
someone would give up your
alias, but you weren’t afraid of worrying me sick? I can’t fucking
believe you.”

“Annie, stop . . .”

“I will
not
stop, Chase! Informing me
about your whereabouts might seem like sweating the small stuff to
you, but where I come from, you don’t just keep the people who care
about you in the dark! And this doesn’t even explain the fact that
you haven’t responded to my texts or voicemails for the last four
days. The last four
days
, for crying out loud!”

“Annie, I’m sorry, okay?” he said
ineffectually. “I’ve spent most of my life not having people keep
tabs on me; I guess I didn’t realize I had to check in with you
every fucking minute of every fucking day.”

We stood in silence, the tension
palpable.

I avoided his glare and could feel myself
biting back the tears. Out of the corner of my eye, I could see his
stature soften. He approached me, but I flinched at his touch.

“Don’t be like that, Goldilocks,” he
murmured, as he pulled me close and wove his fingers into the band
of my pants. “Please?” I could feel his lips on my neck, which made
the heat rise to my cheeks. I could just as easily give in to
him—and could feel myself about to—as he attempted to pull my pants
down. But I couldn’t—not like this—so I pushed him away.

He was startled. “What the fuck? You want
this, too!”

I adjusted my pants, and I felt almost
queasy. “No, I don’t. Makeup sex isn’t going to make this any
better.”

“Makeup sex? Can that really be classified as
a fight?” He gave me a devilish grin that, for a split second, made
me want to forgive him completely. But I wouldn’t let myself be
swayed.

“I just don’t think this is going to work,” I
said flatly. My voice felt like it was coming from far away, and I
barely recognized it or registered that I was the one speaking
those terrible words.

He just looked at me. “Are you kidding me?
You’re just gonna walk out on me?”

I felt sick to my stomach at the thought, and
my feet were practically bolted to the floor. “I don’t think I can
do this, Chase,” I said carefully, in that voice that sounded like
it belonged to a different person. “The last few times we’ve been
together, I ran the risk of getting arrested, getting shot, and
having a subway train slam into me. If that’s what it’s like to be
with you, I don’t think I can handle it.” I pulled my coat more
tightly around me. “So maybe we need to take a break.”

He wasn’t happy about that. “You’re not
fucking serious, are you?” He ran his fingers through his hair, and
I could see his eyes were raw and red. “What can I do, Annie? What
can I do to make this better?” His tone was beseeching.

I closed my eyes. When I thought about
everything that was happening in my own life—the curatorship, my
broken friendship with Kendra, and the fact that I was lying to
Harrison and bailing Chase out of jail—there was only one option.
And while it was more painful than having a knife twisted into my
heart, I knew I was sentencing myself to a world of even more pain
if I followed my heart, rather than my head.

“I gotta go,” I murmured as I made my way to
the door.

He grabbed my arm. “No,” he said urgently,
although it was more like a plea. “Annie, you’re my angel. If you
were to leave, I don’t know what I’d do!” The look of agony in his
eyes was almost overwhelming, but I wrenched my arm away all the
same.

“I’m sorry, Chase. I have to do this,” I said
without looking at him.

He was right behind me as I blindly stumbled
over spray-paint cans and beer bottles, moving toward his front
door.

“Annie, you don’t know what you’re doing!
Think about it first. We should talk before you do anything rash.”
I could hear the edge of a threat and a plea in his voice.

I spun around so that my hair whipped across
my cheeks angrily. “I’m not sure you’re in any position to give me
advice, Chase Adams,” I snapped.

“Maybe not, but you’re seriously gonna
fucking walk out on me? That’s just not like the Annie I know.
You’re better than that!” he yelled, picking up a beer bottle and
flinging it at the wall.

I winced in alarm at the sound of glass
exploding on brick. I had no idea what Chase was capable of doing
in such a state—I’d never seen him so worked up. Trembling, I threw
his front door open. As I ran down the flight of metal stairs,
tears stinging my eyes and blurring my vision, I could hear Chase
swearing and kicking around cans of paint.

“Annie! Please! Come back!” I’d gotten to the
bottom of the landing when I heard his voice at the top of the
stairs. I looked back up at him. His beautiful face was contorted
with anguish and disbelief, and he was on his knees, as if he
didn’t have the strength to stand.

A big part of me wanted to go to him, but I
knew I couldn’t. To do so would be to betray the deeper reasons I
was in New York City to begin with. I had to face it: Chase was the
proverbial kid from the wrong side of the tracks. I wanted to be
noble, but I didn’t have the power to save anyone except myself. As
I ran back to the subway station, I could barely look at my
reflection in glass doors or car windows. The face staring back at
me looked tired, spent, and about a thousand years old. I forced
myself to slow down and breathe. I couldn’t think about what this
meant for Quentin’s show—I was afraid I’d start
hyperventilating.

“You did the right thing, Annie,” I said out
loud, but for some reason, the ache in my chest didn’t make my
words feel convincing at all.

Several days had passed, and despite a
flurry of text messages and voicemails from Chase, I had forced
myself not to respond to any of them. I had made my bed, and now I
had to lie in it. And no matter how painful it was, I knew it was
the right thing to do. I’d spent many tearful hours talking to my
mother (who was still trying to convince me to come home for
Thanksgiving, although I’d already explained how much work I needed
to do for the exhibit), and while she seemed to be relieved that
Chase was no longer in the picture, she’d also suggested that
perhaps I take it easy and put my dating life on the shelf for the
time being.

“Annie Bear, you have to follow your heart,
and if Harrison hasn’t found his way into it, it’s okay to break up
with him,” she’d said. “You don’t owe anybody anything. Not Chase,
not Harrison—nobody.”

“I know, Mom, but . . . Harrison is all I
have right now,” I’d admitted. Kendra was still giving me the cold
shoulder, and my teammates on the committee weren’t exactly happy
hour–friendly. I liked the fact that Harrison wasn’t pressuring me
to go faster than I was comfortable with, especially since I was
still nursing a broken heart. It also felt good to be able to fall
back and let myself be taken care of. Harrison had never asked for
anything beyond my company, and it felt energizing rather than
exhausting to be around him. In hindsight, as irresistible as Chase
had been, our relationship had never been easy or free of demands.
Sleepless nights, adversity with my best friend, and a perpetual
feeling of anxiety had all been aspects that I was too blinded by
lust to fully recognize.

Thank goodness I’m a Capricorn
, I
thought. Yes, I’d been momentarily swayed by Chase’s charms, but,
of course, nothing about us had proven to be sustainable. We just
hadn’t been meant to be. That deep realization was accompanied by
more sadness than I thought I could bear, and a gnawing emptiness I
thought would never end. Thank goodness I had plenty of
distractions to keep me afloat. Without Harrison, I was sure I
would have been wallowing over pints of ice cream, leg warmers, and
bad rom-coms on Netflix.

But tonight we were enjoying a dinner at Bell
Book & Candle, a funky farm-to-table restaurant in the West
Village. The basement-level dining room was equipped with low
lights, distressed-brick walls, and a fence-post oak floor. There
was a live jazz band with a singer who reminded me of Billie
Holliday. She was crooning out the most heartbreaking ballads, but
I tried to ignore her and place all my attention on Harrison. The
last thing I needed now was a soundtrack to my misery. I forced
myself to chase Chase out of my head.

“Bear with me, Annie,” Harrison was saying.
“I know most girls hate cars, but the one I’m looking into is
pretty rad. It’s a 2013 Hyundai Veloster Turbo, and it kills my
current car, hands down. I’m starting to think less about the bells
and whistles and more about performance these days, since I use my
car so much and my parents are getting tired of replacing my wheels
every year.”

I smiled, trying to act interested. “Yeah,
and we live in a pretty disposable society as it is, so I totally
understand wanting something that has a long life cycle.”

He cocked his head. “I hadn’t thought about
that, but it’s true. Like, I remember when I was a kid, a computer
would last me at least a few years. Now, with Apple updating their
gadgets every year or so, it’s a race to keep up. You get the
latest thing, and it’s already defunct after a few months.”

I nodded, although I couldn’t really relate,
having owned the same clunky Mac for the last six years.

“Hey, you okay? You’ve been feeling . . . I
don’t know . . . a little distant lately,” he said, reaching across
the table to hold my hand.

“I’m fine. I’ve just been a little tired with
everything that’s going on,” I said.

“Tired? Well, we’ll have to fix that.” He
reached across and gave me a kiss. He smelled like citrus and
honey. “Because I have an exciting night planned for us.”

“Oh?”

He blushed a little. “I mean, inside rather
than out.”

At this point, we still hadn’t spent the
night together, not so much because we had a verbal agreement to
take it slow as because I’d managed to slip out of invitations to
study with Harrison in his room or indulge in late-night hangouts.
Realistically, I hadn’t been able to, since I had spent many of my
recent nights with Chase. I still wasn’t sure I wanted to be
intimate with Harrison so soon after ending things with Chase. But
maybe that was exactly what I needed. Perhaps this would be the
thing to cement the tenuous bond I had with Harrison, to amplify my
appreciation of him.

Harrison brushed the hair back from my face
with his fingers. “You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to,
Annie. But you know I’m crazy about you . . . and I want to make
tonight really special for you.”

I pushed my fork around in the housemade
burrata, but I didn’t take a bite. “You’re sweet,” I told him.

“I know it’s a big deal, since it would be
the first time . . .”

I widened my eyes. “Oh, Harrison, I’m not . .
. I’m not a virgin!”

A look of relief came over his face. “That’s
good. I mean—don’t get me wrong or anything, but . . .” He blushed
awkwardly. “It would just be
that
much more pressure.”

I was glad Harrison didn’t have a double
standard, but I felt a twinge of guilt when I thought of how
recently I had been with Chase. Harrison seemed to notice my change
in mood. A look of alarm came over his face. “Shit, that came
across as way more insensitive than I thought it would. Look,
Annie, I just want to spend time with you is all. Like I said, we
don’t have to do anything you feel uncomfortable with. I’m not one
of those guys. I’m with you for you, not because of your lethal
hotness.” He smiled a little. “Although that certainly helps. I
understand that
New York Minute
has outed the fact that I
have the sexiest girlfriend in town.”