Edge of Chaos (Love on the Edge #1)

by Molly E. Lee

  “Look, I’m sorry, but the guys have this major tournament up. They can’t finish it without me. Our team will forfeit.”

  I freed my wrist from his fingers as an angry response churned itself up in my stomach. “I can’t—”

  “I can take Blake home.” Dash cut me off, and I only then realized he stood next to us.

  Justin’s eyes went to slits, looking Dash up and down. Of course he didn’t know that Dash knew exactly where I lived and had hung out with me—John and Paul as well—plenty of times. The battle in his eyes was clear, but I couldn’t tell where he’d land.

  “Fine.” Justin took my hand again. “We will do breakfast tomorrow though. And the movie. I promise. Be at my house at eight. Okay?”

  I nodded. “Thanks for bringing me,” I said as he walked out of earshot.

  Dash grabbed my hand and guided me back to the dance floor before I could contemplate how, or if, I was even upset.

  I quickly focused on the band who launched into a fast-paced number that I knew by heart. The sweet, bubbly sensation still popped underneath my skin, and chased away any thought I’d have given to Justin’s departure. Instead, I let loose the moves I normally saved for my kitchen. Bouncing from side to side, I grabbed Dash’s hand and spun myself around, the night from our failed chase fresh in my mind. It wasn’t anywhere near club music, so Dash didn’t take control and draw me close like he had before, but he twirled me a couple times before letting go and matching my steady bounce.

  Soon we each played an air instrument in perfect synchronization. Caught up in my mad air-guitar skills, I didn’t see a man the size of a linebacker making his way toward the bar and stepped right in his path. The sheer mass of his movement knocked me off balance, and I toppled hard into Dash.

  I gripped his shoulders, and he steadied me with one strong arm wrapped around my lower back.

  “Sorry!” the man shouted and continued to the bar.

  I glanced up at Dash, my lids slightly hooded.

  “You all right, woman?”

  “Couldn’t be better.” The truth rang clear in my voice and I don’t know why I was surprised at the notion. Justin had left, had bailed once again, and I just . . . didn’t care.

  Dash raised his eyebrows but didn’t break our gaze. I stared back at him, enjoying the hard press of his body against mine. My eyes trailed to his lips. I wondered what he tasted like? I imagined something sweet and intense, like dark chocolate and cayenne. I blinked a couple times and realized I hadn’t let go of his shoulders. I slowly pulled away. He unwound his arm from my waist, and my heart raced.

  He winked at me, and my limbs melted. I quickly bounced up and down to the next song, desperately grounding myself in the present and forcing my mind to stop fantasizing about Dash. I blamed the brownie.

  The band did an encore, but it still ended too soon. I’m pretty sure I could watch Blue perform for well over their normal two-hour limit.

  We funneled into the line of a hundred or so other people exiting the building at a slow crawl. There were only inches between me and the person in front of me, but Dash’s chest pressed against my back as he stood behind me. I couldn’t deny how safe I felt with him there. And I couldn’t stop my body from reacting the way it did, or my mind from trying to make the friendship I had with Dash into something more. I focused my thoughts on Justin and our breakfast date tomorrow, instantly deciding I’d use the time to talk and find common ground again. I assured myself that is all it would take to end the madness filling my head.

  Then Dash shifted his weight behind me, his hand accidentally grazing my hip causing an electric current to run through the center of my body and crackle.

  Hail sat on the floor, resting her head on Dash’s knee, the perfect pout plastered on her face. We were devouring the two pizzas we’d brought home after the concert, and she was in a mood since I wouldn’t let Dash give her any. She already weighed fifty pounds and didn’t need any more jiggle. I told her she was perfect the way she was, but she continuously begged for food like I starved her.

  “Did you get a good look at Ryan’s new violin? It was badass!” Dash said, stuffing another slice of pepperoni in his mouth.

  “Yeah, it was wicked! I loved the bright blue flames.” I finished off my fourth slice and carried the empty box to the kitchen. I set it on the counter and grabbed two more beers from the fridge, twisting off the caps and tossing them in the box. I stopped when I turned back around, finding Dash petting Hail as she leaned against his legs. I swear both of them were smiling, and the sight warmed my insides.

  “You going to drink both those beers, woman, or are you sharing?”

  I handed Dash one of the bottles and sat back down.

  “So, Dash Lexington, what’s your real name?” I asked, hoping the abrupt shift in conversation would shock him enough to tell me.

  “Nope.”

  “Seriously? Beer and a pot brownie and you still won’t let it slip?”

  “Never going to happen, Blake.” He took another swig from the bottle.

  I sank further into the couch and fake-sulked while nursing my own longneck. The beer tasted unusually good tonight, as did the pizza. The credit could go to the brownie, but I suspected it was because the night had been utterly awesome.

  “So, are you upset that Justin bailed to play video games . . . again?”

  “No.”

  “Really?”

  I shrugged, unable to convey the battle of thoughts raging in my head. “He promised breakfast tomorrow. What more can I ask for?” The question sounded much more depressing than I’d meant it to.

  Dash sighed, shaking his head. “I don’t know. Just seems like he should be here and not me.”

  My stomach sank. “Do you not want to be here?”

  He glanced at me, his green eyes intense as ever. “Not what I meant. I love being around you, Blake. You know that if the choice came down to it, I’d rather be with you than do almost anything else in the world. But I also want you to be happy.”

  “I’m happy—”

  “Tonight,” Dash cut me off. “And it’s not due to him because whenever he does something for you, it’s still about him.”

  He was right; I couldn’t deny it. A slow, familiar dull ache surfaced in my chest. “I know that, but what would you have me do?” He knew the reasons I stayed.

  Dash set his beer down and gently clutched my shoulder, pinning me with those damn green eyes. “I’d have you realize that the woman you are deserves better than the man he is.”

  “But . . .” It wasn’t that simple. “Who’s to say I deserve better than what Justin gives me? It’s been like this forever. I don’t know anything outside of it.” I chided myself, because I did know better. Because of Dash.

  The warmth from his hand slid across my skin as he moved it to my neck. “Don’t think that. You deserve more, Blake. And you need to understand that you are so much more than how you see yourself and a hell of a lot more than how he treats you.”

  My breath caught in my throat, and I tried to ignore the sparks erupting low in my belly from Dash’s words and touch. I licked my lips, my mouth suddenly dry. He studied me, gauging me for a response, but I didn’t have the words.

  “Do you . . .” I inhaled sharply. “Do you want another beer?” I asked instead of opening the door he knocked on.

  He let out a long breath, like he’d been holding it. I glanced at him and his eyes were on me. Really on me, with a deep, almost magnetic stare I’d never seen before. It made my heart race. He reached his hand up and touched the ends of my hair where it lay on my shoulder. The light caress sent a wave of heat throughout my entire body.

  “You deserve to be free.” His voice was soft and low and different, like I was hearing it for the first time.

  I parted my lips, but only air escaped.

  Dash sighed. “I better go before I have too many and have to crash here again,” he said, standing from the couch. The playful grin he sported set my nerves at
ease but didn’t erase the seriousness of his earlier words.

  “Yeah, my couch isn’t much to sleep on,” I said and couldn’t stop the blush that flooded my cheeks. The first night Dash and I hung out he’d ended up sleeping over. And look how far we’d come. My best friend—I couldn’t imagine life without him.

  Dash took a step closer after kissing Hail goodbye. He looked down at me, his eyes hopping from mine to my lips and back again. My hands trembled.

  “I didn’t mind it.” He winked before he turned and walked to my door. “See you later.”

  I stared at the door long after he’d left, desperately trying to ignore the shockwave of heat pulsing throughout my entire body.

  I STOOD OUTSIDE Justin’s door, thirty minutes after eight a.m. I’d wanted to give him some extra time—knowing mornings weren’t his strong suit—to start our day on the right foot. I heard laughter from the other side of the door, followed by insults and playful shouting. The boys were over and still playing COD. Had they even slept?

  Done with the idea of knocking, I pushed open the door and walked inside.

  Justin’s focus was intently on the flat screen in his living room, but Mark and Andy saw me. All their eyes were rimmed in red. So they’d been up all night, and from the look of the amount of beer cans strewn across the floor, they were probably still drunk.

  Wonderful.

  “Hey, Blake,” Andy said, rubbing his eyes before grabbing the controller sitting next to him. I gave him a closed mouth-smile, trying to keep the adrenaline in my veins from fully unleashing. Justin hadn’t officially bailed on me . . . yet. I took a deep breath.

  “Justin?”

  He finally noticed I stood in his living room. His eyes grew wide, recognition flickering behind them. “Oh, yeah, sorry. I meant to text you.”

  My heart sank, the sensation so familiar it made me angry. I think I’d already known he would do this.

  “Why?” I managed to ask.

  He glanced around the room and then at the screen. “Isn’t it obvious? We’re still playing.”

  “But you promised. We were going to . . .” The fight went out of me. The main hope I’d had for today was a good talk with him to clear the air but it quickly vanished.

  Justin glared, visibly upset by my plea. He stood up, coming closer and lowering his voice. “Damn it, Blake, was the concert not good enough for you?”

  “What?”

  “Seriously, I took you, played nice all night. That should’ve bought me time. I shouldn’t have to do anything for a while now.”

  My mouth dropped. “You only took me because you were . . . buying me off so I wouldn’t ask you to do anything with me?”

  “Well, it sure as hell wasn’t because I liked the band.” He had the audacity to laugh then, turning to fist-bump Andy.

  The laugh, paired with his nonchalance about blowing me off, for the umpteenth time, broke something within me. The last piece of my heart that cared about him, ached for his attention, his love, died. With it came a rushing sensation of clarity, and it was like my eyes were open for the first time in years.

  Justin would never change.

  And I was done being afraid to leave him. I chased tornadoes for God’s sake—I could do this, and I wasn’t waiting one more second. I would not be treated like garbage. Never again. I don’t know if it was Dash’s words last night, the fact that I could chase down a tornado and barely flinch, or the culmination of one too many emotional blows from Justin, but I was so fucking done.

  I took a deep breath. “We need to talk,” I said, not letting my anger seep out. I would end this maturely. I glanced at Mark and Andy, suddenly grateful for their presence. Hopefully they could keep him calm and rational, prevent him from hurting himself . . . if he resorted to that again. Even if he did, though, I couldn’t take it anymore. Dash was right; real love wouldn’t place that on someone, and Justin’s actions made it clear he didn’t love me anymore.

  He walked past me toward his bedroom. I followed him, pausing in the entryway, the door having disappeared from the last time he’d kicked it in. I shook my head at the memory, and it was like I saw it from a different angle—how the hell had I let it go on so long like this?

  “What is it now?” Justin stood in the middle of his room, arms crossed.

  Icy fingers curled around my heart, the image of him grabbing the nearest knife flashing in my mind. My fingers trembled, but I pushed on. “We have to stop this.”

  Justin’s jet-black eyebrows scrunched his forehead. “Stop what?”

  I motioned between us. “Us. All we do is fight—”

  “Yo!” Mark called from the other room, cutting me off. “Justin, man, you’re up!”

  Justin made to return to the living room, but I stepped in his way, placing my hand on his chest to stop him.

  “This is really important, Justin,” I said, pinning him in place with my eyes.

  He sighed. “So is this tournament we’re in.”

  “No. Not now. We need to finish this conversation.”

  Justin jerked away from my touch and nudged me out of his way. The ice melted, damn near evaporated with the rush of anger that flared within me.

  “Justin,” I snapped, sharp enough to get him to stop before he made it to the living room. “I’m done,” I said as he turned around.

  He tilted his head, giving me a look like he doubted my seriousness.

  I walked toward him, stopping only a foot away. “I’m done. Now, we can talk about it like adults or you can go play your game. Either way, I’m sorry, but I’m done. I can’t do this anymore.”

  His eyes cleared and he focused them more fully on me, as if he just realized I’d shown up at his place. “What are you saying?”

  “I’m saying we’re through. And since we’ve been together so long, I thought you deserved a rational explanation, but if you’re more concerned about your video game tournament, then I don’t think it’ll make any difference.”

  He glanced over his shoulder at Mark and Andy who were failing at acting like they couldn’t hear everything I’d said. He then turned back to me, grabbing my hand. “This is all over me not going to breakfast?”

  “This has nothing to do with that. This has to do with the fact that we aren’t right for each other. That I’ve been drowning for the past few years and you haven’t even noticed.”

  “Don’t do this now, Blake. Just . . . can’t we talk about this after the tournament is over? They need me.”

  I jerked my hand away, his declaration of need for an online tournament sealing in my anger like a pressure cooker. I huffed and reached in my bag for my keys. “There is no later, Justin. There is now.” I gripped the cool key fob in my hand. I felt the need to explain myself, to even say I was sorry to leave him like everyone else had in his life, but he looked over his shoulder again, toward his friends, toward the game, and the words died in my throat.

  “If the game is more important than hearing the end of us, then go. I don’t care. Honestly, you’ve done it to me so many times it doesn’t even sting anymore. But, Justin? Don’t hurt yourself, all right?”

  He focused on me again, his eyes turning to slits. I was aware that Mark and Andy heard my plea, and I was fine with that. I wanted them to keep him level if he went off balance after I left.

  “This is that asshole Dash’s fault.” He flexed his hands into fists at his sides.

  “What the hell would he have to do with it?” I took a micro-step back, like his accusation had physically pushed me.

  “Don’t play dumb! I saw the way you acted around him. He’s more than a fucking study-buddy and you know it.”

  I opened and closed my mouth a few times before sighing. “You’re right. He’s actually become a really close friend, one I couldn’t tell you about—not because of anything awful like you assume—but because I knew you’d make me choose. You’ve always made me choose. You put your life in my hands every time I had an inkling of becoming someone other than your gi
rlfriend, and I can’t do it anymore. I just . . . won’t.”

  “I only force hard choices on you to keep you safe . . . which is with me. I’ve loved you since we were kids.”

  The words stung, and maybe in some twisted way he believed them, but I didn’t. Not anymore. Not after realizing the way he treated me was no better than a doll he used to fuck. I sucked in a deep breath and shook my head.

  He unclenched his fingers before balling them into fists again. “You’re really ending this? You’re leaving me after everything?”

  “Yes.” Guilt threatened to swallow me whole. My worry over his safety had been a constant for years, and I couldn’t change that right this second. But the anger was there and the pain and the now crystal-clear knowledge things would never change. “We aren’t right—”

  “Don’t,” he cut me off, raising his hand. “Don’t bother with the excuses.” He gave Mark and Andy a sideways glance before returning his focus on me. “And just so we’re clear, I only ever made that threat to keep you.”

  An ice-cold bucket of water doused the fire burning in my veins. The cold was so instant my stomach rolled. “What?”

  He shrugged, smirking at his friends. “Worked for a while.”

  My mouth dropped, and I couldn’t find the right words. There weren’t any. Wait, yes there were. Blake you’ve been a fucking idiot. Those fit me to a T. I swallowed hard and steeled my nerves. I’d seen the blood drawn from the knife. Maybe he had done it to keep me, or maybe he only said that now to save face in front of his friends. Either way, I wasn’t sticking around to find out.

  I gave him a slight nod, holding back tears.

  “We’re done.” I turned on my heels, not bothering to shut the door behind me.

  No sleep and a knock on my door before ten in the morning. I rubbed my palms against my cheeks, trying to restore life into my face. I swallowed hard, assuming I’d find Justin on the other side of the door.

  Instead I found Dash holding two white paper cups. “I was hoping you’d left something in my truck after the concert so I’d have a legit reason to come over here this morning, but you’re annoyingly non-forgetful. Figured coffee was the next best excuse.”