The bass of you

Chapter 37

As soon as we step back in the hotel, I feel a sense of relief. I feel like I can breathe again. It was the same process getting to the hotel as it was getting to the restaurant : security guards either side of us, Chase's leather jacket over my head, loud cheering, Chase's name being called, camera's clicking – you get the idea. In the limo on the way back here, though, Chase seemed distracted by something. By what, I'm not sure, but he seemed very fidgety.

We stand by our room doors : me outside mine, Chase outside his. Guess it's time to part ways now, or whatever. Chase unlocks his door and as soon as I take out my key-card, he grabs my arm. Turning around to him, he motions for me to go inside his bedroom, so I walk inside his bedroom and Chase closes the door behind me. I've noticed that the corridors were quiet, no music, no sounds of people from inside any rooms. The others must not be back yet.

Going over to Chase's bed, I kick off my boots. They've given me sore, aching feet, and I'm hating every second of it. Chase goes straight over to the bedside table, picks up a bottle of vodka, and hands it to me. Well, I'm not going to say no to that. Taking the bottle of vodka from him, I open it and down some down. It's obviously strong and bitter, so I grimace, but I'm glad to have something to take the edge off again. I've been saying that an awful lot lately, I hope it doesn't turn into a habit.

Something doesn't feel right, I can't quite figure out what it is though, and it's bothering me more than it should. Looking around the room, I try to see if something's out of place, or if something doesn't look right, but it all looks the same. It's probably just my nerves.

Chase unbuttons his fitted shirt and sits down next to me, bottle of whiskey in hand. "I'm not the best at dating. Actually, I've never been the dating type of guy. But I really hope it made an impression on you," he says. "You look so pretty. Why did you wear your jacket for the whole time that we were there?"

Scoffing, I laugh and shrug my shoulders. "Because I feel exposed, as stupid as that sounds," I reply amusingly.

Then I decide that I'm back at here now, so it's a safe place to take off the leather jacket. Slipping it down my arms, I suddenly feel Chase helping me take it off, and I let him. Turning to my side to look at him, he's smirking as he takes off my jacket, and I smirk back shyly. He's a gentleman, but I can't help but feel like he's a strange gentleman. The things he does and says sometimes really doesn't match the gentleman inside him, but for some reason, that's oddly appealing to me. Chase has this careless bad-boy appearance to him, does things he really shouldn't be doing, does drugs often, drinks all the time ; yet also has this gentle, thoughtful, soft side to him at the same time. He's different.

When I face in front of me, I suddenly feel warm lips on my shoulder. It's Chase, and he's pressing gentle kisses on my bare shoulder. They make the hairs on the back of my neck and arms stand on end. But I'm not sure if I want to do this. I don't know if I'll be making a big mistake and regret it. I don't want something like this to eat me up when I could have just avoided it. I need to go back to my room, I need to get drunk by myself. I just need to be alone. Damn this awkward Monica that always comes out to embarrass me.

Standing up suddenly, I turn around to face Chase. "Um, I need to go back to my room. I'm sorry."

Chase looks disappointed and a little surprised by my sudden wanting to go. But he gives a sweet smile anyway. "Yeah, sure. I understand," he says friendlily. "I'll see you later or something."

"Yeah."

"Yeah, alright."

We smile at each other awkwardly, before I turn to leave. Walking away, I'm starting to think whether the decision I must made was the good one, because I feel a surge of bad decision-making fluttering in my heart. I want to turn around, but I want to go back to my room. I'll just go back to my room anyway. I have this bottle of vodka in my hand to help me drown out any bad decisions I may have made.

Going back into my room, I turn on the light and shut the door. Downing some vodka, I feel like I should go back, but I decide to stay put here for a while. Taking out my phone from my jacket pocket, I see five missed calls from my mum. Dyfan has definitely said something.

Here we go...

Throwing myself on the bed and lying on my back, my arm spread out beside me, I scroll through my contacts, and press the call button on my mum. It rings, and rings, and rings, until the call is answered and there's some background noise.

"Hello?"

"Hello? Mon?" my mum says hastily. "How's it going up there? You enjoying yourself?"

Closing my eyes, I reply, "yeah, it's great. The concert was great. Me and Lay really enjoyed ourselves. How are you and daddy?"

"Good, I'm so glad. Remember...no drugs,"

Yes, mam, I know. But you don't need to know that I did any drugs.

"Dyfan tells me that there's a boy on the scene."

Sighing, I scoff and open my eyes to stare at the ceiling. "Dyfan is lying."

"Mon, I don't believe you," my mum says sharply. "If there's a boy, you don't need to tell me. But I would like to know because, well... you know...it's different hearing about you and boys."

"There's no boy in my life, mam."

"Well if there is, and you aren't telling me about it, I just want to say be safe and use protection..." My mum lets out a loud gasp as there's a crashing noise in the background of what sounds like the kitchen. "Oh shit! Dyfan! You messy bugger! For Christ's sake!" she shouts away from the phone. I can't help but smirk knowing that Dyfan has dropped and smashed something. "I've got to go, Mon. Your brother was taking the pasta bake out the oven and he dropped it all over the floor. You'd think at his age he would be more fucking careful! Speak to you soon, have a great time. Love you."

"Love you too, mam."

My mum ends the phone call instantly and thanks to my brother's clumsiness I'm free from the interrogation. Girls always swoon for my brother, they have since school, it's ridiculous. I mean, yeah, he's good-looking. But he's an idiot. All that charm and good-looks are nothing compared to his idiocy at home. They have no idea how much a fool he really is. It always got under my skin when girls would fancy my brother and have the audacity to tell me I inherited my 'good looks' from him. Like, no, just don't say that to me.

Lying on the bed with arms flayed out beside me, staring at the ceiling, in this silent bedroom, I start to wonder. I wonder how bad it could really be if I slept with Chase, just for one night. I'm not a hooker, I'm not a groupie, I'm nothing like that. So what's the problem? Chase is a rockstar, yeah, but he's also more than that. He's charming, he's great-looking, he's kind, he didn't take advantage of me when I was high or drunk, he even took me on a date because I had never been on one. And here I am. Avoiding him in the luxury room he's paying for.

What the hell am I doing?

Am I really avoiding an opportunity with a boy as good as that?

Get the hell up!