The Banks knew I wasn’t Saffron’s kid? They might not’ve known exactly who I was, but shouldn’t they have known from principle that something bad happened? Am I mad at them for not coming forward sooner … or because I still—even after this—wish we hadn’t been caught?
“Why am I here?” I ask to no one in particular, even though Maxine is still on the other end of the phone, crying. “Why am I wearing this?” I look down at the sparkly black party dress that shows off every inch of my thighs and costs more than it should and I feel suddenly sick. Without a second thought, I tear it over my head and Chasm overcorrects the car while simultaneously cursing at me in Korean.
“Little Sister,” he chokes out, sounding like he wants to kill me as I hijack his Whitehall Prep blazer from the back seat and shove my arms into it, buttoning as many buttons as I can with shaking hands. “Do you want to die in an accident today?”
I ignore him in favor of talking to my sister. For whatever reason, I decide to put her on speaker.
“Where are you right now? I’m having issues with my car, so I’m going to have Maxx drive me down.”
“It’s okay,” I tell her, even though it isn’t. I want to tear my hair out right now. I want to get mad at … someone. Anyone. I’m just not exactly sure who to get mad at. Tess, for being angry that she was kept from her daughter longer than she needed to be? My grandparents, for losing the child they spent a decade and a half raising? Or Saffron, the mentally ill and damaged grieving mother who stole me to fill a hole in her heart?
“Dakota, I’m not leaving you alone right now,” Maxine asserts, and I can hear that stubborn streak in her voice, the resolute ring of finality that says she’s not taking no for an answer.
“Look, I’ll be fine. This news doesn’t change anything, does it? It doesn’t change the fact that Saffron had a dead child who was named my name, who should’ve lived my life, and I’m here in … in fucking Medina of all places, living the life of some rich girl daughter to the world’s most famous author since J.K. Rowling and E.L. James.”
I’m getting hysterical here, but none of what I’ve said is a lie or an exaggeration.
“I’m getting in the car now,” Maxine tells me, but it won’t help. I won’t be able to see her unless I find a way to sneak out, but you can bet your ass Tess is going to try to talk to me as soon as I get home.
I find my way to the live feed of the show and see that it’s still happening without me: Tess versus the Banks. They don’t even need me there to fight about me.
“Listen, if you want to come, come next weekend. Chasm can pretend we have a study session together to get me out of the house.” I glance his way, but he doesn’t respond. I take that to mean yes.
“I’m taking you on a hike,” Maxine declares because, like a true PNW Native, she believes that a hike can cure anything from depression to anxiety to a sprained ankle (don’t ask me how). To be honest, I despise hikes. The only thing that sounds worse to me in this moment is spending time with Tess.
“Fine. I’ll do a hike, but only if you pick one with less people.”
I can practically hear Maxine grinning through the phone, but when she sends a request to turn our call into a video chat, I decline it. If she looks at me now, she’ll see that I have tears running down my face, even though I don’t mean to let them.
“Are you sure you’re okay? This is … I mean, I don’t even know what to think. I’ll call Grandma and Grandpa after the show is over and talk to them personally. Don’t let them turn into villains in your mind without knowing the full truth.”
“I’d never do that,” I say, because despite what happened behind the scenes, the Banks were incredible parents to me, and I don’t regret a second of our time spent together.
“We’re still sisters, no matter what,” Maxine tells me, but she doesn’t have to say it for it to be true. I already knew that. “Okay, call me later and check in?” I nod, remember that we’re not on video chat, and then sigh.
“Fine.”
“I love you fierce,” she tells me, and I can’t resist responding in turn. I know my sister won’t let this rest until she’s gotten everyone’s side of the story, thought it over, and come to her own conclusion. As for me, I just feel tired all of a sudden.
“Love you fierce,” I reply and then I hang up, but not without a shred of guilty relief flowing through me.
Even though I know Maxine isn’t at fault for any of this, I just … need a minute to myself.
Chasm is quiet for a while, taking us north toward some place called Gold Bar that looks to be rural as fuck, and we’ve only been in the car for about fifty minutes.
“I’m sure you’d rather I leave you alone,” Chasm starts, and I look back to see him flick a quick glance my way. Something about him seems … off? It takes me a minute to realize that not only is he missing that signature yellow lightning bolt in his hair, but that the piercings on either side of his lips are missing, too. His hair hangs over his ears, covering the plugs, and his signature eye liner is missing. Also, he’s wearing a long-sleeved sweater and khaki slacks, which is completely unlike him. “But I have to at least tell you that you look nice—and completely unlike yourself—today.”
I just keep staring at him.
“Really?” I blurt out, letting that ember in my belly go to flames again. It’s so much easier to just get angry at someone else and act like that’s the real problem when in reality, I have a million of my own issues to work through. “Is that a compliment or an insult? If I look unlike myself today, then you’re a total stranger. What did you do to your hair?”
Chasm cringes as I reach out and tug on the hair near his face, withdrawing my hand and looking down at the black powder covering my fingers.
“I sprayed it with temporary dye,” he says, looking over at me again, this time with an expression of discomfort that does nothing to make him look like the slouchy bad boy I’m used to. Maybe this isn’t Chasm, but Kwang-seon? Just like I’m Mia Patterson instead of Dakota Banks today. That’s how it feels anyway, like I’m wearing somebody’s else skin, somebody else’s life. “My dad doesn’t like colored hair.”
“And your plugs?” I ask, but I don’t wait for him to answer, sweeping back his hair so that I can trace the curve of his ear with my fingertip. The plugs are still there, just hidden. I smile slightly but Chasm bats my way hand away and lets out a huffing sound, cursing at me in Korean again.
“If you need a translation: that means back off. What the hell are you doing? You can’t stroke someone’s ear like that.”
“You grabbed my ass,” I shoot back, but he combs his hair forward to cover his ears anyway.
“My dad’s in town for the week, so I have to look … the way he wants me to look,” Chasm hazards, glancing over at me, like he’s testing me to see how much he can or should reveal. I’m reminded of Tess’ bitchy it’s my body; I made it retort. Chasm’s father must follow a similar thought process. I wonder if he knows about all of the tattoos? Looking over at the back of Chasm’s bare hand on the steering wheel, I guess probably not.
He’s taking a big risk though. It would only take one trip to the lake, one wrong photo posted somewhere on social media, for his dad to find out.
“What about your piercings?” I ask as I wonder if they were fake all along, but Chasm surprises me by smirking in just such a way that his entire face is transformed. That is the real Chasm, and no amount of makeup—or lack thereof, clothing, or hair dye can change that. It isn’t about the way your body looks or what you wear, it’s what’s on the inside that makes you, you.
I look down at the blazer I’m wearing, the one that smells like Chasm, that peppermint and dark chocolate scent that makes my mouth water because I’m a crazy person who smells people to get off.
Despite the clothes, the makeup, the fancy hairstyle the ‘Millennial’ artist gave me, I’m Dakota Banks. I’m Dakota Banks whether my birth certificate, Tess, or the law agree with that. Even if my gr
andparents lied.
Still, a few spare tears fall and land on the blazer’s lapels, darkening the fabric briefly.
“I use a topical filler,” he says, still smiling like an asshole. It makes me like him just a bit more though. That, and he came to pick me up so damn quick. He must’ve rushed out of wherever he was to get there so fast. And Parrish is the one that called him. Parrish. He grabbed my hand and dragged me out of the studio; he found me an escape; he stayed to deal with Tess.
I definitely owe the bastard one, don’t I? Or maybe we’re just even if you factor in that stupid Tiktok he made …
“A topical filler?” I ask, and I hate that my voice sounds weak with tears. Chasm pretends not to notice, running his finger along the curve of his jaw.
“Yep. I have a friend who’s an actor; he showed me a video of his makeup artist using it on his own facial piercings for a casting call. I waited until my dad was out of town on a business trip, so I’d have time to heal and just … did it.” He grins even bigger, gaze focused out the windshield as rain begins to fall, thick and heavy on the roof of the car. “I almost shit my pants when he came home, and I tried the filler for the first time; I was sure he’d be able to tell.”
“Of course you have a friend who’s an actor,” I murmur with a roll of my eyes, but I’m already looking up videos of the topical filler he’s telling me about. Hot damn. I’ll admit: I’m impressed. It seems like you take a bit of clear silicone-like stuff and colored foundation, mix them together, and apply it. A rubber pad is laid over the top until it dries, leaving the skin whole and clear. “I didn’t even know something like this existed.”
“Neither does my dad,” Chasm says with a dark laugh, turning into a gravel road and then winding us through a thicket of trees. “Nobody’s renting the cabin tonight, so it should be empty …”
He seems to be mostly talking to himself, so I don’t bother responding. Instead, I stare down at my phone—which is still on silent, because Jesus Christ it’s blowing up—and see that Tess has messaged me.
The show is over. If you have your phone, now is the time to admit it. I’ll also be calling Chasm.
I delete her message and when Chasm’s screen lights up with an incoming call from her, I pick it up without asking, and reject it. He glances my way but doesn’t stop me.
What can she possibly do to me that’ll hurt more than what she’s already done? She already stripped me of my old life and forced me into a new one that I didn’t want. Ground me, Tess. Take my electronics away … oh, wait, you already fucking did that.
Except for my phone.
At least I’ve got my phone.
Thanks to Parrish, that is.
There aren’t any messages from him. I try not to be disappointed about that, sliding my phone into the pocket of the blazer as Chasm parks the car near the impressive bulk of a log cabin. And by log cabin, I mean it has walls made out of logs. It’s the size of Tess and Paul’s house, and probably outfitted with just as many luxury amenities.
“What is this place?” I ask as Chasm turns off the car and climbs out, standing on the driveway and fiddling with his phone. After a moment, he seems to find what he’s looking for and glances up at me as I come around the front of the hood.
“This is one of my dad’s rentals,” he says, gesturing in the direction of the house with his chin. “But there’s nobody here tonight. Come on, I’ve got the code.” Chasm grabs my hand and I’m instantly reminded of Parrish, his warm fingers curling around mine as he yanked me up from my seat and ran with me through the halls of the studio until we burst outside.
I exhale sharply as Chasm pulls me along behind him, taking me up the front steps and inputting the code from his phone into the lock. The door clicks open, and we step into a massive open kitchen/living room area with a wall of windows facing the river.
Chasm doesn’t bother to turn the lights on, guiding me through the living room and then letting go of my hand so that he can unlock the back door. We step out onto a deck, pausing beneath an overhang that keeps the furniture dry from the rain.
It’s still early, but it’s dark today, misty and wet and miserable. Not that I’m complaining; it suits my mood just fine.
“What are we doing here?” I ask, because even though Chasm is sort of part of the Vanguard family, in reality he’s a stranger to me. We’re alone at an empty house in a town I’m not familiar with and nobody knows where we are. I chew the inside of my cheek and then pull my phone out, sending a quick text to Parrish.
At some sort of cabin-house with Chas, I send as Chasm turns around and leans his back against the railing.
“Checking in with someone? You should do that. Don’t get in cars with random boys and let them drive you somewhere remote.”
“Don’t mansplain to me how to keep myself safe. Be accountable for your own actions.”
Chasm smiles lazily at me and offers up a hand in acquiescence. At the same moment, I get an incoming text from Parrish. I know where that is. See you at home when you get here.
I shut my phone off and put it back in my pocket, moving over to stand beside Chas and folding my arms on the top of the railing. The blazer I’m wearing is just long enough to count as a dress; I hope he doesn’t mind me borrowing it for a while.
“Not to add to the creepy ambience or anything, but when I’m just really pissed off about something, I come here and I scream.”
“You scream?” I ask, glancing over at him and cocking a single brow. He’s staring contemplatively at his own reflection in the sliding glass door, like he isn’t totally sure he recognizes himself. I do the same, turning so that I can see my own face reflected back at me.
Black and lime green hair, split straight down the middle. Straight bangs that fall just below my eyebrows. Loose waves gathered into a chignon at the base of my neck. A full mouth with a plump lower lip, a large straight nose, round eyes with raven-black irises. There’s too much makeup on my face, so I reach up and scrub half of it away, like Mulan on the cartoon Disney movie.
“You totally fucked up my blazer, didn’t you?” Chasm asks, and I cringe slightly as he turns to look at me.
“I’ll buy you a new one, pinky promise!” I blurt out with a cringe, lifting up my right hand. What I don’t expect is for him to reach out and hook his little finger with mine. My lips part as I look up at him and we end up staring at each other for an inordinate amount of time.
He drops his hand and I let my arm fall to my side.
“It’s okay, Little Sister. You can keep it.” He turns back to his own reflection and sighs, closing his eyes for a moment. I wonder where he was, all dressed up like this? Or dressed down? Either way, I wonder where he was that he felt he needed the costume. “Consider it an apology for pushing you in the pool. I listened to Parrish bitching about you, and I didn’t even give you a chance. And what I said about your grandparents the other day … you didn’t deserve that.”
“Is this you giving me a chance now?” I ask, my heart stumbling weirdly in my chest, like a drunk person trying to navigate a hedge maze. It feels like I’m going in circles, making my tummy ache with nausea.
“The thing about this place is,” Chasm starts, standing up straight and crossing his arms over his chest. “If you want to just fucking scream, you can scream. But, if you want to just sit in silence, you can do that, too. I’m getting in the car—you do what you need to do.”
He moves away, leaving me alone on the deck. At first, I feel stupid standing there, but then I realize that’s because I’m worrying about what someone else might think about it. What Chasm thinks, what Parrish would think, what Maxine or Tess or my grandparents might think. I’m worried about getting home quickly so Tess isn’t mad. I’m worried about Chasm getting bored waiting for me in his car. I’m worried about what the internet has to say about the show today.
So, here’s what I do.
I move down the deck stairs and into the yard, drag a chair under the protection of a large t
ree, and then I sit in it. My ass gets wet, but I don’t care. I put my elbows on my knees, my chin in my hands, and I close my eyes.
For almost an hour, I just sit there and listen to the rain.
Chasm doesn’t bother me. And when I finally stand up, suck in a deep breath, and just scream, nobody interrupts me.
When I climb back in the car a half hour after that, he doesn’t seem remotely inconvenienced at having to wait.
“Do you feel better?” he asks me as I glance over and see that he’s playing Tetris on his phone. He loses the game with a measly score of twelve-thousand points. My eye twitches.
“My highest score is six hundred and twelve-thousand,” I tell him, because it’s easier to talk about games than it is to talk about feelings.
“Fuck, you really are a simp for games, huh?”
I reach out before I can stop myself, putting my hand over his. He stares down at it like I’ve slapped him.
“Thank you for bringing me out here,” I say, and I mean it. “I owe you one.”
Chasm smirks at me, and it’s the most confident, self-assured expression I’ve seen on any other human being besides Maxx Wright.
I expect him to blurt out some stupid-ass innuendo or insult me again, but instead all I get is this.
“You don’t owe someone because they were nice to you.” He starts the engine and cranks the volume on the radio, saving me from trying to have to force any conversation.
Why would we need to talk? I feel like that’s a perfect place to leave our interaction.
Just … perfect.
Tess is waiting for me at the garage side entrance to the house, arms folded over her chest, her long espresso hair loosely tied and draped over one shoulder.
It’s dark now. I had Chasm drive me all over the Seattle metro area and then some. He bought me an iced coffee but mostly, he left me alone. I turned my phone off right after we left the cabin, and I left it off.
I climb out of the car in Chas’ blazer and nothing else before realizing how that might look. But then wondering why … I give a fuck how that looks? I just stare back at Tess and take a sip from my coffee. The slurping sound echoes around the garage as Chasm pauses beside me and hooks a what the actual fuck are you doing? look my way.
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