The bass of you

Chapter 34

Walking out of the bedroom and closing the bedroom door behind me, I try to steady my heart rate by taking in deep breaths, and then leaving them out slowly. I knock Chase's door : two light, but loud knocks. No answer. I try again. Still no answer. This is only making me even more nervous and I'm sure my armpits are beginning to sweat. I feel ridiculous, I feel exposed, and I feel ugly. Nope, fuck this, I'm going back to my room and I'm not going anywhere for the night.

As soon as I turn around and take one step forward, the sound of Chase's bedroom door opening behind me stops me dead in my tracks. I'm frozen with embarrassment and shame. I had knocked the door, had no answer, then got caught walking back to my room mid-way. Shutting my eyes, I grimace to myself as I realise that I'm probably looking ridiculous right now. I should have worn something else. I should have left the makeup. I should have stayed in my room.

"Monica, turn around," Chase says softly. "Let me see you."

With my heart racing, my hands shaking, I open my eyes and slowly turn around to face Chase. He frowns at me for a moment, his eyes dropping down to my feet, then dragging up my body very slowly. His silence, the movement of his eyes, how still he is, it's only making me even more nervous. Chase straightens up, smirks, and then motions for me to come inside his room as he stands back against the door.

As I walk past him, my heart in my throat, I can feel his eyes on me, analysing my body as I enter the room and he shuts the bedroom door. Turning around to him, I realise he's not even dressed yet. Then again, it doesn't take long for boys to pick things out and throw them on. He's still got no shirt on and just his slim black jeans. He's got dirty white socks on that looks like he's been wearing for days, maybe even weeks. But even with the lack of cleanliness, Chase's charisma and looks just fend off anything bad like that. He can pull anything off apparently.

Chase kicks his feet across the carpet as he makes his way towards me, pint of whiskey in hand. He stops right in front of me, glances down at my chest, then meets my eyes. "I didn't take you for a chick who wears dresses," he says with his iconic smirk. "You look awesome though. You should wear dresses more often."

Shying away from the compliment, I lower my chin to hide my blushing cheeks. "So, you're going with a bare chest?" I ask.

Chase chuckles a deep, innocent laugh that sounds so cute. "Fuck no." He walks around me and I spin around so that my eyes can follow him. He opens his suitcase and pulls out a white fitted shirt. "I'm not taking you on a date just to dress like an ass and ruin it for you."

He slips his arms into the sleeves and it's a butter-melting sight : seeing a boy with a great body, hard chest, protruding muscles, tattoos, light-brown hair that's always messy, knowing he's a rockstar, wearing a fitted shirt, unbuttoned. Swear I'm almost drooling at the sight, which isn't like me at all. I'm staring at his hardened chest. I'm staring. What the hell's wrong with me? What's gotten into me these past few days?

Looking away from his chest, I try to look at his eyes as Chase buttons up his shirt. It doesn't help that he doesn't button the shirt all the way up and leaves the top of his chest exposed slightly, with about four buttons left undone, his Celtic cross necklace perfectly set in the middle of his chest. He undoes the buttons of his cuffs and rolls them up to his elbows, then he sits down on the edge of the bed and pulls on his combat boots. Not exactly the smartest, but he's a rockstar. Rockstars aren't going to dress like billionaire boys. What can I expect? Besides, I like the style. I think it looks great. 

Chase walks over to me, picking up his pint of whiskey from the TV stand on the way, downs what's left of it, and then ducks to the side to pick up his leather jacket. He stops right in front of me, his smoky dark-blue eyes looking down at me. His dark, long eyelashes making his eyes look so moody. "Let's go."

Chase and I make our way out of the bedroom, down in the elevator, and into the hotel reception. As soon as the elevator doors open and we step out, two big security guys spot us and rush over to either side of us. There's security by the doors and a whole lot of people outside the big windows with cameras, falling over each other to get the front. Chase has his arm over my shoulder now, his hand shielding the side of my face to protect my identity from those cameras.

Out the back, there's a black limo parked in the alley. Down at both entrances to the alley are black cars blocking the way into the alley. People are flocked around the cars, desperate to get through, or at least have a peek. Security guards are ushering us into the limo, someone is holding the door open for us but Chase's hand is preventing me from seeing who. Chase ushers me inside the limo before him, a hand on my back, gently leading me inside. I crouch slightly, getting into the limo, and then sitting down on the plush leather seats, feeling a surge of relief. All the hassle, the rushing, the secrecy - it's exhausting. And I haven't even been doing it for more than a day.

In the limo, Chase shuffles up next to me, placing his hand on my bare thigh. He seems to be doing it so normally, like we've known each other for months. While I'm still here, still trying to get used to the touch of him. The limo is driving. The engine is so quiet and the ride is going so smoothly that it doesn't feel like we're going anywhere : apart from the odd unavoidable dip in the road here and there. Suddenly there's hands banging on the windows all around us, people cupping their hands on the windows, trying to get a peek inside. I'm not used to this, I feel like an anonymous celebrity or something. Chase seems to sense that I'm anxious somehow, because he keeps squeezing my thigh as I look around.

A few minutes go by and I'm feeling more and more anxious. It's one thing to be going on a date, but it's another thing to be going on a date with someone incredibly famous. It's going to attract swarms of paparazzi. Fans and almost everyone anywhere we go will recognise Chase. From a young age I've always understood what it meant to be famous, never experienced it, but always understood. The appeal of barely having privacy and being smothered all the time just seemed like a pain in the ass. One thing I've noticed about Black Dagger is that they keep their heads down and only bring them up when they're onstage in front of thousands of their fans. I respect that about them.