Caught in a Chase

38 - Crazy in Love

Security texted, letting me know the store was now closed and empty. Hood up, I left the Escalade and walked fast.

My phone rang just before I entered the store. Slipping it out of my pocket I saw Chelsea's name on the screen.

"Hey," I answered, pushing open the door and motioning to the clerk I needed a minute.

"Hi," she said. "The volunteer thing is over around four, but a few of the girls are going out after and invited me. We've got nothing special going on tonight so I'm going to join them, okay?"

I frowned, turning my back to the store. "How late do you think you'll be? I ... sort of planned dinner."

"I shouldn't be too long. Just want to get to know some people," Chelsea said. "Are you heading home now?"

"Almost. I, uh, have to swing by and sign some stuff for Paul first."

"Okay. I'll see you later," Chelsea said.

I shoved my phone into my pocket and turned to the clerk. He had my purchase ready on the counter. I looked it over and nodded. It was perfect. He closed and handed it to me, thanking me profusely.

"No one else knows about this, right?" I asked.

"No sir."

"Good. Thanks," I nodded again, slipping the box into my hoodie pocket.

Once home, I set about making dinner. I wasn't a great cook but I made a kick ass spaghetti sauce from scratch. As I boiled the pasta, I thought of the noodle scene from Lady and the Tramp. That wasn't far off what I had planned for tonight.

Finally everything was ready. The table was set, food was cooked and my hoodie was slung over the back of one of the dining chair.

Should I put out candles? Was that romantic or too much? I put candles on the table and debated whether it looked like I was trying too hard. It was dumb. I put the candles away. Maybe I should have got flowers?

I paced while I waited for Chelsea. Was I sure about this? I could still change my mind. No harm, no foul. Glancing over at the table, I decided to go with the candles after all and put them back. It was too late for flowers.

Speaking of late, where the hell was she? I grabbed my phone and sent a text.

     M: Where r u?! How much longer?

My phone dinged right away.

     C: Sorry! Lost track of time. On my way now

Fuck! Why was she just leaving now? She should be home already dammit. I stomped into the family room and flicked on the TV.

Throwing myself onto the couch, I grabbed my notebook and scribbled a bunch of angry lyrics. Should never let her leave the fucking house. She'd ruined everything. The pencil tip broke from the pressure. Swearing I chucked it across the room.

Closing my eyes, I leaned back against the couch and took a deep breath. I needed to calm down. My nerves were blowing this way out of proportion. It wasn't a big deal. She's just home a little late. She didn't know I wanted tonight to be special. She wasn't doing anything wrong.

By the time Chelsea rushed in, I'd gotten myself under control. She set her bag down by the door. Her cheeks were flushed and eyes bright. She looked beautiful and some of my irritation evaporated.

"Hey. Sorry I'm late," she said, hugging me.

My arms went around and pulled her to me. I rested my head on top of hers. It was okay. Nothing was ruined. I could still do this.

"Are you hungry?" I asked, letting go of her and walking into the dining room.

"Starved!" Chelsea looked at the table. "Oh! You did all this? To celebrate my volunteer position? Thank you!"

Chelsea kissed me. I relaxed into the kiss, trying to set aside my nerves.

"I'm sorry I'm late," Chelsea said again. "Thank you for this."

"It's fine," I said. "Let's eat."

We helped ourselves to the spaghetti and garlic bread I'd made and sat down. Chelsea chattered on about the literacy centre, the patrons and the other volunteers she'd met.

I tried to listen and participate in the conversation, but internally I was at war. Was this the right time? Should I wait?

"Are you alright?" she asked.

"Yeah. 'Course," I smiled. "What happened next?"

"Okay," Chelsea said. "So then we debated which books we'll be reading with the kids next week. Most of us voted for Harry Potter, of course! But one guy actually suggested Twilight. Can you believe that?"

"Uh huh," I said.

"A guy," she repeated.

I nodded, glancing again towards my hoodie.

Chelsea leaned close, snapping me back around. She tapped my nose and I felt something wet.

"Did you just bop me with pasta sauce?" I stared at her.

Smiling she licked the rest off her finger. "Yup."

"You know that's a fuckin' declaration of war, right?" I said, wiping off my nose with a napkin.

"War? You're so dramatic," Chelsea rolled her eyes. "And you accuse girls of being extra."

I scooped up sauce on my finger and stretched towards her. She laughed and leaned back out of reach. Not letting this go, I jumped up and moved behind her. While she squealed, I held her against the chair and trailed pasta sauce down the side of her neck.

Confiscating her napkin and standing back, I admired my handiwork. 

"Adequate revenge," I nodded, satisfied.

"Clean me off!" she laughed, holding her hair back and motioning to the napkin I held. "Now!"

"Get you off? At the dinner table?" I asked. "Kinky. But if you insist."

I leaned over and ran my tongue up her neck. Abruptly her laughter stopped. Taking my time, I lapped up the sauce.

"I ... uh... think you got it all. And food's getting cold," Chelsea cleared her throat and pushed me back. Her cheeks were flushed.

Smiling I took my seat. "What's the matter? Can't finish what you started?"

"Didn't think I was starting anything," she grumbled. "Just trying to get your attention."

"Oh you got it," I smirked.

"I meant to what I was saying!" she said.

"I was listening!" I protested.

"Right," she said and hesitated. "Is everything okay?"

"Yeah. Why?"

"You just seem like ... something's up," she said, studying me.

I swallowed and glanced towards my hoodie. Should I do it now?

Chelsea laced her fingers through my hand resting on the table. "If something was wrong, you'd tell me, right?"

"Yeah. Everything's perfect," I said, squeezing her hand.

"Good," she smiled. "Sarcasm really is the most attractive quality in a partner, isn't it?"

I cocked my head. "I wasn't being sarcastic."

"I know," Chelsea said. "I moved onto another subject. In my head."

These seemingly random segues didn't phase me anymore. I loved them. Her mind was as unique as mine. Although much cleaner. Most of the time anyway.

"Gonna have to tell me how you got there babe," I said.

"Well, I was thinking how hilariously dark and twisted you are."

"Absolutely," I smirked. "With you so far."

"And that's also an important coping mechanism, showing you wouldn't be useless in future shitty situations."

"Okay..."

"So sarcasm is basically dark humor and coping mechanism, with just a hint of fear for the unknown or personal safety thrown in. All in all, the best characteristic in a partner."

"Really?" I asked. "Fear of personal safety?"

"What can I say?" she shrugged. "I like bad boys."

"Thank God," I said. "And what about me? You're just as sarcastic."

"Be afraid."

"Come on," I snorted.

"If you ever hurt me, I will murder you, pin it on my ex best friend without a second thought and get away with it," she smiled.

I paused, not sure if that was a joke or threat. Didn't matter, it still turned me on.

"Yeah?" I asked, running a hand up her arm.

"Annnnnnd we're back to how dark and twisted you are," Chelsea laughed, brushing my hand away.

I laughed. Fuck she was good. Time to play for keeps.

"So ya thought anymore about giving up your apartment?" I asked, concentrating on my plate. "No point paying rent when you're not going back."

Chelsea nodded. "I sort of already did."

"Yeah?" I looked up, thrilled she'd decided to ditch her backup plan.

"My brother packed up everything and put it in storage so a friend of mine could move in. Technically the apartment is still in my name for now, so she can avoid the current rental rates," she sighed. "But I really do need to go back sometime soon and deal with my stuff."

Not if I could fucking help it. I didn't want her going any where. And certainly not before I locked shit down.

Chelsea sighed and rubbed her forehead. She'd been doing that a lot lately.

"Headache back?" I asked.

"Yeah," Chelsea smiled. "I'll take some Tylenol after dinner."

"Is it ..." I didn't know how to ask what I wanted to know.

"The tumour? Yes, it's a common side effect," Chelsea shrugged.

I frowned. We needed to get that addressed sooner rather than later if it was hurting her.

"Nothing we can do, so no point worrying," Chelsea said. "Just gotta wait for a surgery date."

"But – "

"No, please," she shook her head. "Let's not ruin our night talking about it."

I nodded and made my decision. I'd wait for a better time. She deserved that and more.