12. Melody
12
MELODY
T he video of Chase sitting in a sea of celebrities plays on my phone. It’s from two years ago, so when he was a freshman, I surmise. It doesn’t look as if he attended with anyone, and I wonder where his parents were for such a major accomplishment. He’s dressed in a tailored suit, and while he looks younger in the video, he still has that commanding and consuming allure that I can’t seem to shake.
I can still feel the hint of his touch along my collarbone and a shiver runs down my spine. The fact is, I didn’t want him to stop and that alarms me. I should be spending my time studying, but instead Chase is consuming my thoughts. Probably doing it on purpose. Messing with my head so I flunk out of this place and then he has his precious bedroom back. That has to be why he keeps making me feel so confused.
My notebook lays beside me devoid of any notes while I watch Chase’s name get called for Best Instrumental Composition. Sure enough, Chase has the winning piece up on Spotify. Looking around before hitting play, I turn the volume up on my earbuds and feel immediately immersed in the notes. How can someone so infuriating create something so beautiful?
But as I listen, I realize his music is a lot like the man in question. It’s mysterious and yet strong. Quiet, but also demanding.
A hand envelops my shoulder, and I practically hurl myself off the chair from the shock. Looking up, I see Liam staring down at me with an amused smile splayed upon his lips.
Liam is who I should be sitting here fantasizing about. Our date is tomorrow, and here I am drooling over a music composition my stepbrother composed like a creep.
“Hey, didn’t mean to scare you,” he says, chuckling at my reaction. “You’re a jumpy one, aren’t you?”
I shrug. “Sometimes.”
Covering my phone screen, I slip it into my purse not wanting him catching me mooning over Chase. Okay, mooning might be pushing it. It’s pure curiosity, plain and simple. We’re rooming together now, and our parents are married. It’s perfectly natural to wonder about the guy. Right? Right. Even with the pep talk, I don’t feel convinced.
“We still on for tomorrow?” He asks.
“Yeah. I’m looking forward to it.” And that’s the truth. I’ve been working almost nonstop since I got here. I could use a fun night out with a cute boy I’m actually allowed to like. Fuck me, allowed to like? That moment with Chase earlier must have messed with my head more than I realized.
“Hey, girl. Sorry, I’m late,” Rhonda says, plopping down next to me. Her bags land on the ground with a thud, rousing a disapproving look from the campus librarian. “Liam,” she acknowledges, her tone sounding infinitesimally cooler than it did a second ago.
My eyes bounce between them both trying to discern what’s the deal between them. I’ve found coming here to Langford, I’m always trying to piece together everyone’s dynamic. They all seem so established. Thank fuck for Rhonda, because everyone else so far hasn’t been the most welcoming.
“I’ll see you later, Mel,” Liam says, leaving me with Rhonda.
“What’s going on there?” She asks, pulling out her massive Music Theory textbook.
“I’m grabbing a drink with him tomorrow.”
Her dark eyebrows shoot up in surprise. “Really?”
“Is that bad?”
“No. Well, I mean I don’t really know your type. Personally, I’d rather dig my own eyes out of their sockets than spend an evening with him, but that’s just me.”
“Huh.” I let that information settle. Liam has seemed charming, but a lot of guys can turn on a show to get what they want. I gnaw on my bottom lip, nerves coating my skin. Maybe I should cancel.
“Don’t worry about it. If it sucks, you can just text me and I’ll come cause a scene.”
I laugh, “Deal. Now. Tell me what the hell these notes mean.”
* * *
Rhonda taught me an easy way to remember what notes go where and I find myself reciting it all the way back to the dorm. It helps to distract me from the growing dread that flips around in my stomach the closer I get. It’s grown dark out since I left, and I hurry my steps. A habit I picked up in New York. You don’t linger on the streets after the sun has set. Even back in Florida, being out in the dark freaked me out. You hear those stories about how a girl was walking home and some creep snuck up on her and then a year later you’re watching a documentary on her unsolved case while eating ice cream. Trying to figure out what happened while using the information to store away in your brain, so it doesn’t happen to you. No matter how many times I watch any unsolved documentary, I’m always upset at the end that it’s not solved, even though I know it is to begin with.
Keys in hand, I unlock the door and walk in to see Chase playing at the piano. He’s too engrossed in the music to notice me yet. It sounds like a remixed version of Für Elise , the base notes come through clear as day, but then he takes the classic piece in a whole new direction. It’s enchanting to see his raw talent on display like this. It’s even more captivating because he’s shirtless and wearing low-slung sweats. Really low-slung.
I look away realizing that I’m checking him out and I shouldn’t be leering at him like that. The moment I’ve been trying to forget all night, comes front and center in my brain as I listen to him play. Those fingers were on my skin. And I didn’t hate it.
I should. I really, really should. But I don’t and that scares me. Curiosity gets the better of me, and I find myself watching him from the entryway again, caught in a web of notes he’s cast.
He stops suddenly and turns to find me staring, because I can’t look away.
“Hey,” he says so casually, like he didn’t have me backed up against the wall with my pulse hammering a million miles a minute at his touch earlier.
“Hi,” I squeak out.
There’s an awkward silence that follows as my mind whirls. Everything between us feels heavy and confusing. I don’t know what to make of the situation or my very real, very inconvenient feelings I’ve been having.
He turns back to the piano, as if nothing had happened and continues to play.
Chase plays for hours as I study, and I wonder how his hands aren’t cramping up by now. Every few minutes, I catch myself looking at him instead of my notes. It’s distracting as hell and I’ve studied the same page this whole time, without a word of it sticking in my brain.
It’s near midnight before he finally quits and heads into the shower, giving me a much-needed break. Though, I still need to brush my teeth and get ready for bed. He takes forever in there while my eyes grow heavy with sleep.
When he emerges, his warm scent clings to the steamy air. I have to remind myself to not swoon at him, because he just wants to get rid of me. As I brush my teeth, Chase joins me, picking up his toothbrush. He watches me in the mirror and a flutter of nerves hit me all at once, making me feel like I’ve forgotten how to brush my teeth.
I spit in the sink, and he smiles. “You’d look so hot spitting on my dick like that.” Then he turns and brushes past me leaving me with toothpaste dripping down my chin while I gape after him.
What the fuck did he just say?
I wipe my face off and angrily do my skin care. I’d look hot spitting on his dick? Who the fuck just says something like that?
By the time I’m done in the bathroom, I’m fuming and ready for a fight. Who does he think he is talking to me like that? Fists curled at my sides, I stomp out and stand at the side of his bed where he lays glued to his laptop, earbuds shoved into his ears.
“Achem?” I clear my throat next to him, but he ignores me.
Tapping him on his shoulder, he turns and takes out an earbud. “What’s up?” He asks
“What’s up?” I shriek.
His eyebrows climb up towards his hairline. “You feeling spicy, princess?”
This motherfucker. I was right before. I hate him. “Spicy? I’m pissed at you, asshole. You go from being almost normal, to telling me I would be hot spitting on your dick!”
“Well, it’s true. That would be hot as hell.”
“Did someone knock you in the head since I was gone, or did you just happen to forget I’m literally your stepsister? Family. Off limits.” I am practically shaking I’m so mad, and flustered, and annoyed.
“Nah, I didn’t forget. I just don’t give a shit. Now are you going to stand there all night yelling at me, or can I get some sleep.”
My mouth opens and closes, not knowing what to say. He acts like it’s no big deal, but it is. It’s a huge deal.
“This.” I point between us. “Can’t happen.”
“Noted. Now, goodnight, princess.” He puts the earbud back in his ear and resumes watching whatever he has pulled up on his laptop.
Infuriating. I’m at a loss for what to do, so I do the only thing I can think of and close his laptop.
“Hey!”
“What? Were you watching that?”
He moves so quickly. I don’t even have time to run. One minute I’m standing, and the next I’m being thrown down on his bed, with Chase hovering over me.
“I don’t think you’re mad at me at all. I think you like me saying that to you,” he says, pinning me with his hips, my arms held down above my head by his hands. His cock grows hard between us, and I fight the urge to rock my hips to feel its entirety. “I think you like me touching you and you’re ashamed of how I make you feel. Because you know it’s wrong.”
“Oh, yeah?” I challenge, breathing hard. My breasts are smashed against his chest and his mouth is dangerously close to mine.
“I think you got so wet that you didn’t know what to do with yourself.” His free hand dips between us. “Is that what happened, princess? Am I going to find your pussy fucking soaked for me?”
“You wish.” I grunt, knowing that he’s right. I hate that he’s right. I’m so wet for him, I could scream.
His fingers deftly move the waistband of my leggings, the cotton fabric pulling against his hand as he dips it below. I do nothing to stop him and find myself widening my legs for him, welcoming his touch.
“What did I say?” He swirls his finger along my clit before pressing into my pussy with two of his digits. I inhale sharply at the sudden pressure invading me. “So fucking wet. And so fucking tight. And all for me.” He rips his hand away and shoves his wet fingers into his mouth, eyes rolling back in his head. “And so fucking sweet.”
That shouldn’t be as hot as it is but seeing him taste me makes my insides melt on sight.
“Now, go to bed, princess.” He says, rolling off me.
The sudden lack of body heat is like having ice thrown on me, and shame immediately replaces the desire I’ve been stupidly feeling.
“I hope you enjoyed that taste of me, because that’s all you’ll be getting.”
“We’ll see about that.” Chase smirks, and I angrily stomp off into the bathroom, slamming the door shut to get a handle on myself. Fuck him and his stupid mind games.
I think I will go out with Liam tomorrow. If only just to have an excuse to get the hell out of here.