CHASE

 I wouldn't blame Penny at all if she hates me right now. After all, it's my fault her heart's breaking. Not only was I Kyle's chosen one, bearing his news, but if not for me, she would never have met him. Or at least, not how it played out that night.

It's hard to believe it's been a decade. I remember Kyle dragging me along to his mate's birthday drinks under the rouse of a good time, only to find out later that I was the designated driver. Apparently, when you're the older, and I'd like to think, wiser brother, it's a given. A birthright even.

At the bar, I watched on as the boys downed a handful of tequila shots each before eying up their prey for the night. I'll admit, I was a little envious of how many friends he had. Most who meet me think I'm either shy or rude, but neither of those is true.

As far back as I can recall, my little brother took the spotlight. It's like he becomes a different person; loud, boisterous, but also obnoxious. I'll give it to him though, he's got a charismatic charm and always knows just the right thing to say to convince just about anyone of anything. He takes after our mother in that way, whereas I'm more laid back, like Dad.

Nevertheless, they all gravitated to Kyle – girls, guys, even his friends' parents. Everyone fell under his spell, and it hasn't changed since. Kyle's friends were mine by proxy. Which was fine, since he's also my best friend. But the simple thought of going it alone, and meeting new people, or making new friends – well, I just don't have it in me. Even now, my circle remains tight, made up of Kyle and Penny, and Julia.

Anyway, while the guys partied on the dance floor, getting handsy with women, and working their moves, I took a seat at the bar. Since I'd held my licence long enough, I could legally have one drink an hour and still be safe to drive.

"What can I get for you?" the bartender asked, throwing a towel over his shoulder.

"Whiskey, please." He poured my drink, sliding it over.

I raised the cup to my lips and savoured the sip, hoping it would carry me through at least half the following hour until my next, alternating with glasses of cola. To pass the time, I thumbed through Facebook and emails. Anything to stop me from pulling my hair out.

Then, as midnight approached, someone caught my eye. A woman. She squeezed through the patrons to a spot beside me, smelling of coconut and vanilla, and wearing a slinky black dress with matching stilettos. Rattling off an extravagant sounding cocktail, she leaned her elbow on the bar and waited.

"Hi," she said, smiling at me. It wasn't flirty, or over the top, just a simple hello, as if we were passing each other in a grocery store.

"Hey," I replied, nonchalantly.

"Are you here alone?" Her hips gently swayed to the beat of the song, enhancing her delicate curves.

Shaking my head, I explained the situation.

"That's tough," she said, flashing me an empathetic look. The bartender passed her drinks, grabbing them in both hands. "Have a good night."

Kicking myself for not showing the interest I indeed felt, I observed her balance along the tiled floor until she reached another woman. She passed her a drink, then propped herself on the tall bar chair belonging to a cocktail table. Crossing her long legs, she settled into a conversation.

I noticed she did this thing, where she threw her long waves over her right shoulder whenever she laughed. She was genuinely gorgeous, and I wished I had the confidence to engage in a longer conversation with her, or at least ask for her name and phone number.

The mere memory takes me back to that night.

Throwing my head back, I downed the last of my whiskey, only when I right myself, she's staring back at me. Perhaps I was staring for too long and she'd noticed. I'd made it awkward. She held my stare, though, almost daring me to look away. But I didn't. I couldn't. She raised the cocktail straw to her lips, taking a sip before placing the glass on the table. Sliding off the chair, she balanced on her heels and straightened the length of her dress. Her smile was broad and inviting. I still remember the feeling that stirred within; both excited and nervous, along with a little bit of terror. She was heading this way.

Her hips swayed elegantly with each step until she stopped in front of me. For a moment, she stood there with a small smirk, then she raised a hand in greeting.

"I'm Penny," she said. Her voice was smooth as the silk she was wearing, and I melted into every syllable.

"Chase," I replied, clearing my throat. I took her hand in mine, feeling its velvety smoothness, but I her nails were sharpened to precision, digging into my palm as she shook it. My imagination had shot straight to the thought of those nails tracing down my back, sending a shiver down my spine. Even now, the memory is etched into my brain, unable to be forgotten, regardless of how much I know I should erase it.

There was something different about her, but I couldn't put my finger on it. I mean, it wasn't the first time I'd met a beautiful woman, or had one show any interest. But that, whatever there was between us, a spark or something, I'd never experienced before – or since, despite dating many women throughout the years.

Penny spoke, but the DJ increased the volume of his beats, drowning out her words. Cupping my ear, I leaned in as she repeated herself, but the thudding beat wouldn't allow it. I leaned in even closer, straining to hear her. She moved her mouth closer, hovering so close to my skin I could feel the warmth of her breath.

"Do you like what you see?" she said, and in that moment, I knew she had caught me ogling. Stunned, I spun my head, but she didn't flinch. Not even when my lips accidentally brushed against hers, and I ungracefully recoiled back in my seat.

'Sorry,' I mouthed, not intending to cross that boundary.

Another of her gorgeous laughs fell from her mouth, and I wished I could hear it better. Damn DJ. Determined not to squander the opportunity, I swept her hair away from her ear before speaking. "Can I get you a drink?"

With a nod, she settled down beside me, her knees resting in the small gap between mine. It was snug amongst the crowded bar, and my already thumping heart quickened at the closeness, struggling to keep my calm while I ordered.

"Thanks, Chase," she said, placing a hand on my knee. The slightest touch sent my mind wandering to places it shouldn't, at least not right now. SHifting in my seat, I adjusted myself before settling again.

A sharp slap to the back sorted that out, though, as Kyle appeared from nowhere. He gestured to the bartender for another round before turning his attention to me and the beautiful girl. He eyed me objectionably, as if to say, 'What's this then?', then gave her the once over, before finishing with an impressed nod. While he might be my brother, I know when he's being an arrogant pig, and the look he gave her irked me to no end. But I couldn't say any of that in front of her, or else I'd have appeared just as bad. But she either didn't notice, or it didn't bother her one bit.

He reached for her hand, raising the back of it to his lips, and kissed her. "Kyle. And you are?" That little bastard. What did he think he was doing?

Stunned, all I could do was sit there, staring, as he made his move, cutting my grass. Horrified, I watched her eating up every pathetic pickup line that spouted from his lips, and as he placed his hands where no respectful man would, or should.

And in that one small moment in time - when he made her laugh, and she rested her hand on his forearm – she fell under his spell, too. And I knew then that, without a shadow of doubt, that my chance with Penny was gone.

In the years since, people only ever refer to that night as the night when Penny and Kyle met. They had forgotten about me, remembered only as the brother and designated driver in their love story.

But I haven't forgotten, and neither has my heart.

For nine years, I've brushed my feelings aside. At every family dinner, birthdays, and holidays, I haven't said a word about how he stole my chance. Penny had made her choice after all, so I can't lay all the blame on him, even if it might seem easier to accept. And despite my devastation, I can't begrudge my brother his happiness, and they seemed happy together.

In fact, they were so enamoured with each other that a little over a year ago, Kyle had proposed. The whole family was gathered for gran's eighty-fifth birthday when, in front of everyone, he got down on one knee and pulled out a tiny velvet box. I remember all the women - mum, gran, Penny, and some cousins and aunts, began tearing up as they watched the whole thing unravel. There wasn't enough Kleenex in the entire state to absorb the emotion expressed that night. And then she said, 'Yes', and that was that. She was his, and only his.

Until today.

I can't even comprehend it. Penny is one in a million, and Kyle – that dumbass - will never meet another woman like her. How he could give her up is beyond me.

But maybe something good will come of it. Or perhaps I'm grasping at straws.

Either way, I need to make sure she's okay.