Page 76 of When I'm Gone

“Brat,” he says, in a way other people might say beautiful. Chase has a way of making me smile until my cheeks hurt. I still haven’t gotten used to it, the way that even the bad moments seem better with him and the good ones are so, so good. His hands settle on my hips as he leans back enough to look at me properly. “Your source of inspiration seems to also be a distraction.”

“Mmm. Maybe a bit,” I concede with another kiss. “You can still stay and hang with me for a bit, though.”

He agrees on the condition that I keep doing what I was doing, which I think I can manage. Possibly.

Chase stretches out on the blanket as I fetch my sketchbook, determined to try again. He throws an arm over hiseyes, content to simply be near me while I go to bat with this damn blank page. I last all of three minutes before I decide that we have to be touching and lay with my head on his stomach.

It starts as more of an abstract idea that I let guide my pencil without focusing on it too much, for fear of scaring it away. Somehow, with Chase breathing deeply underneath me and his fingers lightly brushing the ends of my hair, the pressure seems less overwhelming. Like with everything, he takes some of the weight off my chest and lets my lungs function properly.

I’m not sure how I used to live with it all the time now that I’ve found some relief.

Time passes strangely, with nothing but the sounds of my pencil scratching against the paper and the occasional drone of a far away airplane. I’m glad Chase convinced me to put on some sunscreen before I came out here because I would have burned to a crisp by the time I feel comfortable calling it quits for the day.

And… I’ll be damned. It’s not fucking angry. It’s just a bush covered in butterflies, so not even close to my best work, but it doesn’t feel traumatic to look at, so surely that means something, right?

Chase has been dozing most of the time he’s been out here with me, hovering between awake and asleep. Never stops playing with my hair, though, and that does something wholly unfamiliar to my insides. When he feels me still as I examine the page before me, he’s suddenly trying not to be nosy.

So fucking cute, I can’t stand it.

I let him squirm for a bit, mainly for my own enjoyment, before handing it over. My shoulders tense and my jaw locks up tight before I’ve even let go of the damn thing, an involuntary reaction that I don’t like in the slightest. Being shyabout my work wouldn’t have surprised me, no normal person enjoys feeling like their innermost thoughts are being put on display for scrutiny, and I’m no exception. But this didn’t happen before, this fight-or-flight response that has me wanting to run away or snap at him and tell him that if he disapproves, he can fuck off.

I force a breath, then another.

Don’t be like this,I scold myself. This is Chase. My insecurities are safe with him. When I gain the courage to scan his face for what he might think, those deep breaths I worked so hard for leave my lungs in a rush.

He’s… awestruck? Eyes wide open, head cocked slightly to the side as his fingers trace over my work. Mine. Like he’s trying to burn it into his memory. The remaining tension floods from my body, seeing as now I’ve been reduced to a puddle.

The things this man does to me…

He’s quiet for far too long as he maps out my experimentation like it’s an experience, long enough that my recently settled nerves flare back up. “You gotta say something, love,” I whisper, my voice would be wrecked any louder than that.

Chase finally looks up, and the look in his eyes is too bright, too bold. Nope, I refuse to diagnose it. I’d like the answer far too much.

“I… you’re…” he trails off helplessly, looking at me like I’d be able to find his missing words.There’s no chance, sorry, babe.I’m not sure I’ve ever seen Chase truly speechless, he’s the most articulated person I know. Always, even when he’s stressed out or overwhelmed. This is new territory, and I don’t even know where to begin with it.

Patience is something I need to work on. He’s given it to me endlessly, so the least I can do is give him some of that back. Even if I can’t think of a single reason he’d be sotripped up over something so incredibly minor as one of my least impressive sketches.

He never hurries me when words are tangled on my tongue, always gives me the space to sort through the jumbled mess in my head and get it out on my own time, so I can do that for him too.

The comparisons are hard to stop, it’s never something I mean to do, but it feels like a side effect of the amount of time I spend walking around in a state of awe at how easy Chase makes this feel. I really do try not to, it’s not fair to Chase that I came to him covered in bruises and scars with a bone-deep fury strangling me. But in instances like right now, with that damn look on his face, it’s hard to see why I ever was anywhere else than right beside him.

I was only fourteen when Brady video called me from his first dorm room and introduced me to his roommate. Being the head-in-the-clouds kid I was, my heart jumped pathetically in my chest at one look into his icy pale eyes. I’m pretty sure I never got a full word out with how badly I was stuttering. Even then, he was stunning. Way shier than he is now, not as buff, but beautiful. The stop-you-in-your-tracks, make-you-forget-every-thought-in-your-head kind that a high school freshman can’t even properly absorb through all the hormones pumping through their veins.

And God, when he smiled at me.

It’s safe to say I was easily enamored, even if he wouldn’t give me a second look then. I was just his new, pushy friend’s little brother. By the time he was in my parent’s house, shirtless and poolside, the crush was well-cemented. But he was never a real possibility, just another one of my fantasies to keep me company in that lonely house.

But he’s right in front of me now, staring at me like I’m important, or some shit, and it makes me so happy, I could die. “Easton, you’re so incredible, baby. This is incredible.That word seems insufficient, but my mind is blown to bits and I can’t think of anything better. Fucking hell, Chaos. I can’t believe you’re even real. So fucking talented, so fucking smart.”

Accepting compliments is far from my strong suit, but I mumble a meager thank you before hoping to distract him with a kiss. When our lips meet, it all fades away. The doubts, the worries, the insecurities, they all fade to black, and this wonderful thing happens that switches my brain off. All that matters is that I’m the object of his desires and he is the object of mine, two souls seeking each other out, searching for their match among the universe and breathing a sigh of relief when they do.

He groans into it, lighting a fire under my skin with only a single sound. And fuck, how I love the heat. My hands dig into the meat on his shoulders, and it takes Chase all of about thirty seconds before he lifts me up onto his lap. My head spins as all my blood rushes south, who knew how fucking erotic it is to be manhandled but with care. He’s the perfect mix for me, moving me exactly how he wants me but always mindful to not let me be hurt.

“So fucking sweet,” he rumbles.

I whimper. Once he starts up with the praise, I’m doomed to melt into a puddle of need. The smile tugging at the corners of his mouth is like a blaring siren that he knows what he does to me and plans to exploit it fully.

Lucky, lucky me.

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