I choke on the words and look away so that Chasm won’t see the deep melancholy etched into my face. He doesn’t need anymore ammo. Parrish most definitely doesn’t need anymore ammo. He seems to know exactly how to hit me where it hurts already.
“I’ll drive you,” Chasm offers, still smoking his cigarette and leaning back on one hand, legs stretched out in front of him. The tops of his bare feet are inked, too. It’s very clearly Parrish’s work. I can see it in every perfect stroke of black, every white highlight.
Despite what I said to his face, I actually do admire his work. But, like with Tess’ books, it’s a bit hard to appreciate the art when the artist is an asshole.
“You’d drive me?” I scoff, giving Chasm a onceover. “Why?” I can barely keep the skepticism from my voice. Nothing in life is free. And if it sounds too good to be true, it probably is. I do enjoy a good idiom.
I narrow my eyes as Chasm laughs and stabs his cigarette against the roof shingles to put it out.
“Chalk it up to natural curiosity,” he says, leaning far too close and smelling like tobacco and mint gum. I lean back because his face—and naked chest—are far too close for comfort. “Oh, and don’t tell Parrish or I’ll lie like hell about it,” he adds as he pulls back and climbs in the window. He offers out a hand and I take it, letting him pull me back inside. “Meet me downstairs in twenty.”
Chasm moves over to Parrish’s bedroom door, waiting for me to leave before he slams it shut.
I’m perplexed as hell, but too desperate to see Maxine to argue about it. This could be my only chance to see my sister for a while. Weirdly enough, my hand tingles in all the places he touched it. With a huff, I rub at the offending flesh and frown before turning away.
There’s a TV in my room, one that was there when I moved in. It’s mounted to the wall above the utilitarian dresser that has so much chrome, it looks like it belongs in a spaceship. I turn it on and crank the volume, leaving Uncanny Counter to blast into the room. Tess is unlikely to bother me for the duration of her workday. Once she’s sat down to write, she only emerges for lunch and is usually so far inside her own head that she mumbles plot points as she putters around the kitchen. I might find it endearing if I weren’t so angry with her.
While I’m waiting for Chasm, I pace the foyer, wondering if I’m being an idiot, if I’m about to fall into some sort of trap. What if he tells Tess my plans? What if this whole thing is a setup? Unfortunately, I’m too desperate and too shit outta luck to do much else.
Maxine is worth the risk.
I lift my head up at the sound of footsteps on the stairs, a readymade lie resting on my tongue in case it’s Tess. Instead, it’s Chas, dressed up and looking pretty in black pants, a too-tight t-shirt, and sneakers that may very well be those Lil Nas X ones that caused a lawsuit.
The way my heart beats when I see him annoys me; the way my palms sweat when his lightning bolt colored hair falls across his forehead infuriates me.
Chasm doesn’t say a word, just grabs my sweaty hand and yanks me into the garage before anyone sees us. Once again, my hand tingles and I shove it into the pocket of my black and white striped overalls to silence my rebellious skin. Too many teenage hormones, that must be it. When it comes to love interests, I’m choosy but I’m not a nun.
Chasm heads over to a sleek black sportscar on the far end of the four-car garage that I’d assumed belonged to Tess or Paul.
“Whose car is this?” I ask warily, unwilling to borrow someone else’s vehicle for our getaway. If Tess discovers me missing again, she’ll be upset of course. But tack on a stolen car? No thank you.
Chasm snorts.
“It’s mine,” he says, sliding into the driver’s seat and starting the vehicle as I scramble to catch up. I won’t be left behind, not today. The thought of seeing Maxine is the only thing keeping me sane right now.
I slide in just as Chasm presses a button on his visor and the garage door starts to open behind us.
It occurs to me as Chasm starts to back out that I won’t necessarily have a ride home.
“Are you coming back then?” I ask as he starts up a song and turns the volume up too loud. Warriors by Imagine Dragons blasts out as I choke back a small knot of worry. After Tess’ reaction last time, I’m not so sure this is a good idea. That, and we have to drive right through the mess of reporters yet again.
“When the fuck will they give up?” Chasm murmurs, blasting out the gate and speeding right past them.
Once we’re clear, I let out a sigh and Chasm turns the volume down a blissful few notches.
“If you’re expecting a ride back, I hate to disappoint you, but I’ve got other shit to do before the party tonight.” Chasm’s pretty jaw clenches as he flicks his gaze over to mine. A bit of that mischievous glint I saw earlier is back, sparkling like fool’s gold in his amber eyes.
Ah, he wasn’t planning on telling me that, that he wouldn’t be able to give me a ride back. Too bad for him I don’t care. Maxine can drive me back and drop me outside the gate. Even if I have to fight through reporters to get back in, I’ll do it. Tess gave me a list of codes and passwords for the house and Wi-Fi that I’ve got saved on my phone. Surely the gate code is in there.
As far as the party goes, I know all about it thanks to Danyella. I found her on social media, so we’ve been chatting for the past week. If I weren’t grounded, I might even go, even if high school parties aren’t really my scene.
“I’ll be fine on my own,” I say, leaning back in the leather seat as Chasm takes turns far too quickly, making me sweat a bit. Jesus.
“Look at you,” he whistles, hands tightening around the wheel as the right corner of his mouth quirks up. “What a rebel.”
“What do you have against me anyway?” I ask, and he shrugs loosely. It’s impossible to miss how nicely his white t-shirt clings to his lean body or how the sleeves are bunched just enough to allude to a recent change in muscle mass. The shirt is too small for sure.
I look back at the road.
“You’ve got that snooty East Coast snob thing going on,” he says, and my mouth drops open.
“Me?” I choke out as we weave through street after street of mansions, a sigh escaping me when I spot my first normal middle-class house. Real people, thank god. “I am not snooty. I’m not the one driving a two-hundred-thousand-dollar car and attending a high school that requires parents to send in applications for their fucking infants.”
The heat in my voice surprises me. It seems to surprise Chasm, too. For a moment, he says nothing at all.
“Actually, you do attend that school,” he says, almost thoughtfully. “A school that doesn’t allow anyone in if they have the audacity to slip up in middle school—even if their parents got that application in a decade and a half ago.”
I open my mouth to speak, but he cuts me off and I frown.
“But look at you, the celebrity with the mother that cares so much that she never stopped looking, the one that wrote a book about you, the one that fought tooth and nail to bring you home, and all you can do is hate her.”
“You must understand at least a little how I feel,” I snap back, feeling my skin get hot and tight. “Don’t you miss your grandma? How about Korea? I moved across the country; you moved across the world. Was there no culture shock?”