Page 15 of Chasing Chase London: Part 4-Play-Offs

“Bittersweet”—Big Head Todd and the Monsters

Preston chuckles, takes one more sip, and sets the glass back on the tray. Then he continues past me, fitting a pair of Airpods into his ears as he goes.

I stand on the stairs until he’s gone, gripping the tray tightly so it won’t upset the tea. I know I should go get a new glass, but Preston only took a few sips, and he’s Lindsey’s brother. She probably has all his germs, anyway. I’d rather bring her a glass her brother used than go back downstairs and risk running into him again. I don’t know why he scares me so much, but I’d put money on him being involved in whatever happened to the kid from Willow Heights who got kidnapped.

I steel myself and climb up the stairs, trying to get the unsettling encounter out of my mind before I reach Lindsey’s room. But I can’t help replaying his words. Who is this Destiny I’m trying to replace? She’s obviously one of Lindsey’s former friends, but what happened to her and why haven’t I heard her name before? Did she get shunned for flirting with Chase, and everyone’s ordered never to say her name again, like she never existed? Did she do more than flirt?

I dread going into Lindsey’s room. I can hear her giggling and shrieking, and I know I don’t want to see what’s going on behind the door. I’ve already seen her and Chase kissing way too often, and I’m not sure I could handle seeing them doing more than kissing, especially right now.

I stand in the hallway, not sure what to do with myself, until the maid arrives with another tray, this one laden with tea sandwiches, crackers, and a cheese ball.

“For Chase,” she says, giving me a wink. “Lindsey would never eat that stuff, but it’s his favorite.”

I stand there with my hands full, wondering if Blaise would have let Lindsey carry up her own tray of drinks. Probably not. Everyone in this house seems intent on reminding me that I’m not on the same level as Lindsey, that I’m lucky to have her as a friend, as if I don’t already know that.

“I’ll take that,” Becky says, stooping slightly to slide her hand under my tray and lift it into her own. “You can go on in.”

Her voice is frilly with a Southern twang, and she’s only my age or a little older, with a brunette high ponytail that swishes back and forth instead of floating around like a fluffy bunny tail, the way mine would if I tried that hairstyle.

My face warms. “But they’re…you know.”

“She doesn’t do that.”

She sounds so sure of herself I want to believe her, even though I remember the conversation at lunch about how Lindsey wouldn’t do it with the lights on. Was Elaine lying? I’m sure a guy like Chase isn’t waiting around for someone else to be ready. Is he?

I reluctantly open the door, and Becky nearly pushes me inside with her trays.

Chase and Lindsey are lying on the bed together. More precisely, she’s lying on the bed while he kneels over her, tickling her. She’s giggling and kicking, trying to push him off. Her skirt has fallen around her hips, and I can see how skinny her thighs are and how futile it is for her to struggle with Chase. His arm is bigger than one of her legs.

“Stop, get off me,” she manages to gasp through laughter.

Chase keeps tickling her. “Say uncle,” he says, as she struggles to keep his hands out of her shirt.

“Uncle! Uncle!”

He rolls off, still grinning, but she jumps up and runs off after Becky, who set down the trays and disappeared out the door within seconds.

Chase rolls onto his back and tucks his hands behind his head like he’s relaxing on a beach somewhere, giving me his sunshiny smile.

“Blaise doesn’t know about Lindsey and me,” he whispers conspiratorially. “She thinks Lindsey is saving it until marriage. That’s why she lets me come up here all the time. She trusts Lindsey has good judgment.”

I realize then that Lindsey’s mom isn’t some awesome mom who’s so cool about her daughter going to parties and drinking like my aunt is with Meghan. She’s just totally clueless about what’s really going on and way too easily manipulated by Lindsey’s cleverness.

It doesn’t seem fair that I get the mom who’s suspicious of me even though I’ve never gotten in trouble or gone to a party in my whole life, and Lindsey gets the gullible mom who thinks she can do no wrong when she’s been going to parties and drinking and having sex the whole time.

Lindsey’s just as oblivious, though. She should know from her own behavior and her mother’s trust that people aren’t always doing what they should be doing. Her trust in Chase is as misplaced as her mother’s trust in her. I remember his voice at Homecoming, strained when he said, Come home with me tonight.

What would he have done if I’d said yes? Would he have done that to Lindsey?

I shudder involuntarily when I think he’s already done it—with Elaine. He wasn’t drunk at the homecoming dance, though. He was either really hitting on me, or he was trying to mess with my head and wouldn’t have gone through with it. Either option makes him a total jerk.

He’s still stretched out on the bed, a devil-may-care smile spread across his face. I can’t meet his eye, so I drop my gaze. A tiny line of golden skin peeks out between the bottom his sweater and the top of his jeans. I blush and look away. He smooths the blanket and pats the bed beside him, wriggling his eyebrows suggestively at me.

I suddenly understand why Lindsey is always punching him and calling him a pig. I cannot believe his nerve sometimes.

“Lindsey!” I hiss at him.

He just raises a brow.

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