12/2/16

WHEN CHASE SUGGESTED the idea of us pretending to be dating, there's one thing I didn't consider.

That would be the fact that his parents are cool enough that they are letting us share a room. Now, I don't mind sharing a bed with Chase it's the fact that he is a complete bed hog I'm having issues with. I've almost fallen off the bed three times and he keeps taking the covers, and not that Florida is anywhere as cold as Illinois but it's still chilly at night.

I attempt to grab some sheets from Chase's side, but he just rolls over and the bedding continues to wrap around him like a coil leaving very little to cover myself. With a loud sigh and roll of my eyes I turn to glance at my phone. The bright light of my screen fills the dark room making my eyes wince at the sudden change. My shoulders sag when I see it's almost three in the morning. A small groan slips from my lips as I press my hands into my heavy eyes. I'm beyond tired, but Chase is making it impossible to sleep even though it's all I crave.

I want to sleep and hope that the man from the bar is just a dream. That he isn't Chase's brother. That I don't have to see him repeatedly for the next month, and pretend nothing happened between us because he clearly doesn't remember me. It shouldn't hurt me when I treat men as disposable objects on the regular. But I felt something with that kiss, and in my head I blew it up thinking that if I ever saw him again he would grab me and kiss me. He would admit he felt the same spark, emotion, and heart stopping moment when his lips first pressed into mine.

Yeah, but that didn't happen.

I sit up and debate on punching Chase in the arm to wake him up and yell at him. Then I look around and debate on sleeping on the floor for the night. While neither sound like fun, something comes to mind and a small smile breaks out over my lightly freckled face.

Chase's house is beyond huge, and I bet there are a lot of random rooms to explore. So that's what I decide will be my adventure for the night. Instead of the sleep I so desperately want, I push away the exhaustion that fills my bones and let the idea of sneaking around this vast house replenish me with excitement. Exploring the mansion the Hasting family calls home, as if a tiny country couldn't fill the house.

I slip out of bed and let the oversized t-shirt I wear fall to my thighs and quickly slip on a pair of fuzzy slippers. I cast a quick glance over my shoulder to make sure I haven't woken Chase up, though I'm pretty sure he could sleep through an earthquake at this point, when my body pauses. I take in the man who has quickly become one of my best friends and confidant, and in this moment I take in how peaceful he looks.

He looks so young, like a boy not like the twenty-one year old man that he is. His hair is messy and sticking up in different directions as his long dark lashes rest upon his cheeks. Chase is undeniably beautiful, inside and out, and I wish he could see what I see on a daily basis. What his parents obviously see in him as well.

I know Chase is confused, but a part of me thinks it's a cover up for the truth. Because the closest I've seen to him ever looking so at ease and rested is when he is with a man. I am one of the few people who he will hang out with when he is dating or hooking up with someone new, specifically a guy. When he is dating a woman I won't say he isn't happy because he obviously loves women. But when he is sitting next to a guy, he is in love. His eyes are brighter, his smile wider, and his face and body at ease with the world around him, as if everything has finally fallen into place.

Chase doesn't think his family will love him anymore, but whom he is attracted to has nothing to do with how his parents raised him. And they raised a strong, kind soul of a man and if something so trivial changes their view then they don't deserve to see who he truly is. I kiss two of my fingers and press them into Chase's chest, right over his steadily beating heart, lightly. He is a great man, who I would obviously do anything for, but more than anything I want him to see how great he is without any defining factors.

I turn away and let my best friend sleep as I pull my ratty dark hair into a messy bun atop of my head. My feet drag me out the bedroom door quietly and then down the hall as my eyes take in the dark walls and glossy pictures.

I wander the halls as silently as possible the only sound surrounding me being my deep breathes and the shuffle of my slippers against the smooth hardwood floors. I open a few doors cautiously here and there but realize every door just leads to another guest bedroom. So I take the stairs next and make my way down to the first level as a wave of hunger hits my stomach with a loud growl.

The Hasting kitchen is huge, and that's just the family one. The one the cooks use is even bigger, and complete restaurant quality. The idea of having two kitchens is utterly astounding to me, but that doesn't mean I can't appreciate it for the next month.

I run my hands against the wall until I find a small switch that floods the kitchen with warm light. The stainless steal looks cold against all the wood and copper that fill the clean kitchen. I run my fingers over the six-burner gas stove that includes a griddle. A small smile breaks over my dry lips at the beauty this stove is. When I was younger I would finish books so fast I would sometimes read cookbooks in my free time. The idea of being able to toss together a few ingredients and create something delicious always amazed me.

On the counter I spot a bag filled with sour dough bread. My stomach once again gurgles with the need for an early morning snack. I open the double door refrigerator and find different blocks of cheese and I immediately go for the pepper jack and the American. I grab a pan from the rack that hangs against the wall near the stove, and scoop a pat of the soft butter into the pan loving the way it sizzles against the heat.

I toss together a simple grilled cheese and grab a small glass of water. I sit at the large granite island and begin to nibble away at the warm sandwich.

The warm gooey cheese and the flaky butter crust are simple yet perfection. It's three ingredients that come together to create one of America's favorite food, favorite snack, and favorite rainy day food.

I sit behind the counter eating my sandwich that fills the emptiness in my stomach when I hear footsteps coming from behind me. My head snaps to meet eyes the shade of warm golden honey. Eyes that haunted me for the last year, eyes that make my heart beat faster and my skin warm with an awareness that pounds through my veins.

"Hey," he says simply. His eyes don't pause or linger on me like mine do. He doesn't take me in like my eyes breathe him in. He doesn't do anything, because he doesn't remember me. That kiss shifted my night and spiraled me out of control, but to him it was just another night. Another kiss. Another girl.

My tongue swipes across my lips hating the dryness that fills my throat at his presence. He's in a pair of simple plaid pajama pants and a solid black t-shirt. Clothes so simple yet accentuate him in a way that only makes me want him more. I squeeze my eyes shut trying to push all these thoughts from my head. I shouldn't be thinking about Chase's brother in any way, not when I'm supposed to be "dating" his younger brother. But when my eyes open they are met with eyes I would willing get drunk on.

"Um," I start loathing the awkwardness that fills my words. "I shouldn't have made anything I'm sorry, I was hungry and—"

He stops me with the rise of his hand. "You were hungry and you made food," he states. "That's okay," he finishes with a small nod.

"Really?" I ask as my dark brows rise.

"Yeah," he comments quietly.

"I'm going to clean up everything—" I start before I'm cut off once again.

"No worries," he says waving me off.

He barely looks at me. No, not even that he won't look at me. It's as if I don't matter, and I don't. I'm no one. I'm a blimp from a year ago on a cold night, in a dark bar, and a kiss he probably gives to every passing girl. But to me, he was so much more then that. And he doesn't even know, he doesn't even remember.

The kitchen suddenly fills with a humming sound as he starts the microwave. My mind searches for something, anything to say to him. Some words to start a conversation, anything to spark his memory. But everything I can think of is so lame, and my mind begins to stutter before the words can even leave my parted lips.

He grabs his bowl and sits on the chair next to me behind the large island. I watch him with his still short light brown hair, and strong jaw, and flushed cheeks. We are inside and there aren't snowflakes in his hair, but he looks the exact same. Just as handsome, just as delicious.

I continue to stare, but he doesn't take the bait. He doesn't comment on my staring like he once did. I don't know why I care so much. I should be relieved he doesn't remember me. It makes everything easier for Chase and I during this winter break. But at the same time I want him to remember everything from that night, like I do. Was it only me who was impacted? Did it not change him like it changed me? Have I turned into one of the guys who read into the night more then they should've and then are shocked when I kick them out the next morning? Is this karma?

My mind fills with question after question so instead of thinking on it ay further I let one of the dumb thoughts spill out. Because at this point I'll take anything to speak to him. "Easy Mac huh," I comment lamely on his small blue bowl filled with cheesy noodles. My hands clench as the stupid words leave my lips. I'm never like this. I always know what to say, and how to seduce, and yet in this moment I'm reduced to nothing more than a blithering idiot.

His large shoulders shrug at my words. "It's a classic," he responds.

I nod as my mind begins to run too fast unable to find another subject to talk about. I wet my lips and swallow attempting to fix the dryness that fills my mouth in anxiety.

He stands abruptly as he shoves the last bit of cheesy goodness into his mouth. He throws the plastic bowl into the trashcan, and the spoon into the dishwasher and he begins to walk away.

With less then thirty words exchanged he's leaving. He won't say anything to me. He won't even look at me and my chest aches as the memory of a man begins to blur away and is replaced with the actual one in front of me.

"Night," I call out pausing when I decide to push forward. "Clayton," I add saying his name aloud for the first time. Hating and loving the way my tongue bathes in the two syllables.

His back stiffens and his body stills at my use of his name. His head slightly turns but his eyes don't make contact with me. "Night," he replies. I watch as his body walks away from me but before he completely vanishes from my gaze he says one last word. My name. "Hayley."

Then he's gone.

But he said my name, and I can't help the way my body soars at the way my name sounds coming out of his perfect mouth.

My head falls into my hands as a deep sigh flutters through my body. "Shit," I mumble at the situation I've somehow dug myself into. A situation I should be steering clear from, but instead find myself digging even deeper.

* * * * *

12/3/16

Chase pulls out the chair for me so I can slide into my seat at the table. He's the picture of a complete gentleman, which isn't anything new. He's always been this way, always holding doors open for me, always giving me his jacket if I'm cold.

His parents raised him to be a great man and that's what he is, and I wish he could see that as much as I can.

The restaurant we sit at is dimly lit, and filled with thousands of little twinkly lights. The chairs are velvet, and the place settings are intricately decorated.

This place is fancy, and it makes me nervous to move or touch anything. As if I'm a kid in an expensive store and scared I might break something.

The table is circular and Mr. and Mrs. Hasting sit across from me as Chase and Clayton flank my sides.

Clayton hasn't spoken to me let alone looked at me since last night and I wish he would. If he just looked at me more maybe he would remember. Remember how mind blowing that kiss we shared was. But at the same time I'm thankful because what happens when he does remember me? Drama would ensue, and Chase deserves a drama free break.

"So Hayley," Chase's mother begins after the waiter comes by and fills our glasses with water. "What's your major?" she asks harmlessly. Though I find his parents very kind, I also know that this question isn't as innocent as it seems. She wants to know more about me because I am dating her youngest son, and she wants to see if I'm good enough for him.

I clear my throat noticing all eyes on me, even Clayton's, which causes my skin to begin to burn.

"Fashion merchandising with a double minor in sustainability and public relations," I answer her with a smile.

"Wow," she smiles at my words obviously passing. "So what do you want to do with that exactly?"

A nervous laugh flies from my parted lips. This is a dreaded question for every college student. "Well I had an internship with a denim company this past summer in their PR division, and they were known for using recycled denim and safe dyes," I tell her. "It was a small company, but I really enjoyed the work they do, so maybe something along those lines."

"That's so great you've already had an internship," Mrs. Hasting says with an approving smile at me.

"Thank you," I reply. Though Chase and mines relationship isn't real, the sudden feeling and need to want to be accepted by his family fills me. I barely have enough pieces of my own family to put together, and here Chase is with his full loving family.

"So could you see yourself living somewhere besides Chicago after graduation?" she asks next. This question is definitely not even trying to be hidden under the guise of innocent conversation.

"Mom...." Chase trails also sensing the direction of her question.

"What?" She shrugs feigning innocence. "It was just a simple question," she says with wide eyes.

I chuckle as I pat Chase's hand and play the part of a loving girlfriend. "I do love Chicago, and the city but who knows what the future holds," I say pasting a nauseating smile onto my face as I look longingly at Chase.

His eyes hold amusement as he can see what I'm doing. But he flips his hand so that his fingers interlace through mine and gives my hand a single squeeze in appreciation.

My eyes then flip to Clayton's and his eyes are already on me. On my hand laced with Chase's, then crawling up my body, and finally landing on my eyes. We hold each other's gazes for a long second before he breaks away and focuses on the menu in front of him.

The dinner continues with nice conversation and amazing food, and of course Clayton ignoring my very presence. I should give up on him, I should move on, but a small part of me wants him to remember the way our lips danced and our hearts raced. But the larger part of my conscience knows it's for the best.

But as his eyes land on me one last time as we make our exit from the restaurant, my heart betrays me and beats a bit faster. Refusing to give up on the man who makes it feel alive for the first time in a long time.