Chapter 17 Annalise
Annalise
“I’m not sure if this is the best or worst idea you’ve ever had.” Kenna takes a final drag from her vape pen, then stuffs it in her purse. “Kind of like when you cut your own bangs. Or when you signed us up for that underground poker tournament because, and I quote, ‘How hard can it be?’”
I cringe, fluffing the skirt of my pleated baby-blue dress. “Both fall under the worst category.”
“The lines are blurry. That’s my point.” She yanks open the door to the karaoke bar and hauls me inside. “Your track record is impressive.”
“You said ‘concerning’ wrong.”
“Again, blurry.”
Alex saunters up behind us, clamping a firm hand around the nape of my neck. He squeezes. “How long are we staying?” His voice rumbles with irritation. “If this dude is anything like your brother, I’ll either be here until closing because I’m too drunk to stand, or I give it five minutes.”
Alex still doesn’t know the truth about Chase. He thinks he’s Tag’s friend.
The lie gnaws at me, heating my skin.
I melt into him as his arm wraps around me, and he plays with the shoulder tie of my dress. “Um, he’s great. He and Kenna really hit it off.” I’m not sure if that part is a lie or not, but I guess we’ll find out.
Kenna primps her hair in a kitschy mirror off the entrance, smacking her glossy lips together. “Yep. Sparks were flying like bullets.”
I ram my elbow into her ribs, the heat morphing into a brushfire down my neck.
She sends me a sly wink.
“You’re sure you’re over Irving?” I pivot.
She feigns a tear. “Irving is a part of my past, Annalise. We are go-getters. Future setters.”
Swallowing hard, I glance toward the karaoke stage where a DJ is setting up.
The place is jam-packed, filled with sticky floors, neon beer signs buzzing against wood-paneled walls, and a low ceiling that traps the heat and noise.
This is the absolute last place Alex would choose to be, but he can’t complain about not spending enough time together while brushing off my attempts.
Besides, it was starting to feel like that brushfire was a wind gust away from multiplying into a blaze beyond my control. All these late-night get-togethers. All this time spent collaborating, making music. I needed to introduce them. Quickly.
Double date to the rescue.
I scan the rest of the room, looking for a familiar tousle of earthy brown hair and broad shoulders. Chase is nowhere to be found. Taking the lead, I guide Alex and Kenna over to an empty four-person table.
I wonder if he’ll even show. Reluctance shimmered in his gaze when I broached the subject.
More like absolute dread. Chase is far from an extrovert, so convincing him to join me at a karaoke bar after a long shift at work, while playing matchmaker to my best friend, while also introducing him to my boyfriend, was a herculean task. Yet…somehow, he agreed.
I definitely owe him a drink.
Alex collapses into a chair, looking downright miserable. His leg bounces with unease, his stony eyes casing the room. “Looks like he bailed. Let’s grab food.”
“He didn’t bail,” Kenna says, plopping down across from him and discarding her purse. “He’s eager for a frontrow seat to my karaoke debut. Britney. Obviously.”
“You can’t sing.” Alex glares at her, pursing his lips. “At all.”
“That’s subjective,” she snips back.
Alex doesn’t like Kenna. Says she’s a “bad influence,” whatever that means. But all she’s ever done is love me unconditionally since we were seated next to each other in the third grade.
We share a smile.
I wring my hands together, sliding in next to Alex. My cheeks puff with a trapped breath. Kenna drives the conversation—because she is an extrovert—while I watch the entrance like an unwavering hawk. Only a few minutes pass before Chase shuffles through.
That feeling swells in my gut again. Strange, instinctual.
A warning.
I veer my attention toward the bar, hoping to summon a double-shot of tequila with only mind voodoo.
Kenna twists around in the seat, following my stare.
Then she lifts her hand with an animated wave, snagging Chase’s attention.
There’s a slight limp to his gait. There always is.
He moves to the table, catching my eye for a beat, before panning over to Kenna, then Alex. A muscle in his cheek ticks.
He peels off his leather coat as he approaches, draping it over the back of the empty chair. “Hey,” he says, tone unreadable.
“Hey!” Of course I overcompensate. “You made it!”
“Yeah.” A beat of hesitation, and then he sits down, falling silent again.
Nobody knows what to say, what to do. I told Kenna to act natural, but now I’m concerned. Her version of natural is the same as my version, which is never natural.
And the only thing we hate more than tofu is awkward silences.
She hooks her arm through his and beams with the glow of an army of suns. “Chase! So glad we’re finally doing this. The will-they-won’t-they stage was getting tiring.”
Her eyes swerve to mine as she sends me a full-fledged grimace.
I shake my head, a silent plea to tone it down.
Chase clears his throat, stiffens to a board. “Good to see you, Kenna.” He glances warily at the man beside me. “Alex, right?”
“Yup.”
“Chase.” He extends a big hand across the table. “Annalise talks about you all the time.”
“All the time?” Alex scowls at Chase’s hand before accepting it. Brief, reluctant. Bordering on the epitome of pain and suffering.
I go still.
“Um, yeah…when we met,” Chase backpedals. “That one time.”
“When you were bleeding to death on your couch?”
“After. Second time, I guess.” Chase scratches his mop of hair, looking like he’d rather be cast as the corpse in a low-budget horror film than sitting here. “At the restaurant.”
Oof. This web of lies is tangling into terrible knots.
My poor friends.
“Drinks!” I blurt, catapulting off the chair. “First round is on me. Any requests?”
“I’ll help you carry them.” Chase stands, then immediately storms over to the bar.
Alex is halfway out of his chair when I press a hand to his shoulder. “It’s fine. Maybe help me choose a song to sing?” I hand him the giant booklet of karaoke songs beside the table.
He grabs my wrist before I retreat, and we lock eyes. “I don’t want to stay long,” he says.
I force a smile, my fingers curling into my palm. “Yeah. No problem.”
Kenna sends me a soft look as I pull away and wind around the table to join Chase at the bar.
He’s a stone wall of tension, but when I slide up beside him, our arms brushing, he relaxes a bit.
“I’m sorry,” I murmur, my voice barely carrying over the chatter and music. “This is so awkward. I feel bad.”
A whiskey neat is set in front of him. “Little bit. But it’s fine. I have nowhere else to be.”
“I really appreciate you covering for me. It’s ridiculous, I know. I just—”
“I get it,” he interjects, spinning his glass. “I don’t want to cause any more problems.”
Nodding, I bite down on my lip before ordering a Jack and Coke for Alex and two mai tais for Kenna and me.
“How have things been?” He takes a small sip, eyes lowering to me.
“Good. It’s been a long week of reconciling, but I think we’re making progress.”
That’s an exaggeration. The truth is, things haven’t changed all that much. Alex is still Alex, and I’m still…
I don’t know.
But I’m trying. I’m working hard to fix what’s broken, while trying to find where I fit amid the scattered rubble.
Chase studies me, his glass hovering below his chin. “I know this isn’t the place for a heart to heart, but you can text me whenever. If you need an outlet. To vent or talk.”
He says it casually, but the words dig, pry, and twist. They mean something. More than I should allow them to. And I can’t tell if it feels like a noble invitation or an omen. “Thank you.”
Nodding once, he looks away.
As I reach for the set of glasses placed on the bar counter, the tipsy woman on my left stumbles, crashing into me. One of the drinks sloshes all over my hand as I bump into Chase.
“Oops! Sorry!” she apologizes, smacking her friend’s arm.
A warm palm presses to the small of my back, steadying me.
Gentle, a whisper of a touch.
The contact steals my breath.
It’s hardly anything, just a graze. But I’m so used to angry fingers curling around my wrist, hard hugs, kisses that bruise, and looks that burn holes through me. I’ve grown familiar with it.
“You okay?” he asks, his hand lingering.
No.
I inch away slightly, feeling his palm splay, warm fingers intimately coasting over my bare skin through the opening of my dress.
He doesn’t know how much I’ve craved this. Needed this. Something so simple.
He couldn’t.
I don’t think I knew.
My skin flushes warm, and I scratch at the back of my hand for no other reason than to remove the tickle racing through me. “Yeah. Sorry.” When my breathing evens out, I gesture toward the bartender. “Can I get some extra cherries?”
The man nods, filling a small bowl with a heap of maraschino cherries.
“Cherries?” Chase eyes the glossy fruit.
“I’m addicted. I could eat a whole jar in one sitting.” Popping one into my mouth, I grab the bowl and the mai tais and trek back to the table.
Alex watches me approach, gaze simmering with ominous things.
Instinct has me picking up the pace, adding distance between me and Chase as he trails behind with the remaining drinks.
The moment I sit, an arm envelops my shoulders, a sharp tug pulling me right.
I barely manage to discard my hoard, ungracefully depositing the glasses and cherries on the table.
Nuzzling his nose against my neck, Alex whispers, “You look fucking sexy tonight.” He nips my earlobe. “Tell me when I can get you out of this dress.”