Just One Week (Just One Song)

by Stacey Lynn

  I pop a grape into my mouth and turn back around when I hear Chase sigh, my signal that he’s letting it go.

  “Fine. We can let it go for now, but I stopped by today because I’m taking a jet back to California tonight. Thought I’d save you having to fly commercial at the butt ass crack of dawn tomorrow.”

  I’m momentarily speechless that not only is he not pressing the issue of me avoiding him, but offering to help me. Why does he always have to be so damn nice?

  “I can’t get a refund on my ticket.” It’s a lame excuse and just so I don’t have to see him giving me a look that tells me how stupid it really is, I turn around to re-fill my glass. “And I haven’t packed yet.”

  As if that really matters.

  “Shut up, Mia. I’m asking you to come with me. I can cover the cost of your ticket.” He sounds annoyed now too.

  I spin around, eyes flashing in anger. “I’m not letting you pay for me. Just because I lost my job today doesn’t mean you need to pay for my plane ticket.”

  I’m overreacting. I know it. I can’t even put my finger on why this makes me mad.

  “That’s not why …” I watch him take a deep breath and rub a hand over his hair. With as long as it is, he must have started growing it out as soon as I stopped taking his phone calls. A twinge of jealousy hits my stomach at the thought of other women rubbing their hands through his hair, so I take another large swallow of my wine to push it down. “You know what? Never mind. I want you to come with me. Are you in or out?” His voice is softer now, and there’s a hint of a smile on his lips, but I can tell from the tightness in his body that he’s still annoyed with me. Without looking at me, he drains the rest of his beer, throws it in the garbage can, and heads to my fridge for another.

  I can’t figure out why he’s watching me like this, why he even cares anymore that we haven’t spoken, or why he looks a little bit nervous – maybe – as he waits for my answer. The thought of spending hours on a plane with him makes me uncomfortable, knowing he’s going to ask me again about why I haven’t returned his calls. On the other hand, leaving on a chartered jet tonight sounds a lot better than waking up at three in the morning to catch a commercial flight.

  “Fine. I’ll go pack.”

  Chase takes a pull from his beer and plops himself down on my couch like he belongs in my small space. “Good.”

  We pull up to a private strip just off LaGuardia Airport’s main terminals. I’ve flown on a private jet for work a few times, and once with Nicole, but all of those times were out of Minneapolis where Nicole and I used to live. For some reason, riding in a rented limo and boarding a small charter plane with Chase leaving New York and heading for L.A. makes me feel silly. Like I’ve suddenly stepped into a life that’s not my own. Now I understand how Nic felt when she first started dating Zack. As her best friend, I could see how good Zack was for her. It was as if he instinctively knew she needed slow and gentle in a relationship, and he gave it to her. But watching someone start dating someone as famous as Zack from the sidelines was a lot easier to deal with rather than it happening directly to me.

  I’m still nervous as I stare at the plane. It’s just Chase. We’ve known each other almost two years now and it’s just an airplane ride. This doesn’t mean anything more than Chase being the nice guy he normally is.

  Except Chase isn’t nice. He’s strong and powerful. His temper flares quickly when he’s irritated - at least when I’m irritating him - and he doesn’t put up with my sassy crap. He gives as good as he gets and we can spar back and forth for hours before a simple shoulder shrug from one of us calls it quits and we move on. He’s also the sexiest and most incredible lover I’ve ever had. His body is large and the first time we hooked up, I almost worried that he would crush me with his weight, but he’s gentle and attentive in bed, sometimes. Other times, he’s demanding and rougher, taking me wherever he can easily pick me up and move me. His hands are large and rough, callused from holding drumsticks in his hands for hours every day and when he picks me up and wraps his hands around my waist, his thumbs and fingers touch – completely covering me. He’s also smart, has an incredible sense of humor, successful, and in love with his job, but he mostly just likes to have fun.

  He’s essentially everything I would want in a long-term relationship, if I wanted one.

  “It’s not going to crash, you know.” Chase’s deep voice breaks me out of my thoughts.

  I frown when I realize what he said to me. “What?” I ask, confused.

  “Your breathing picked up when you saw the plane and your cheeks are flushed. I thought maybe you were suddenly afraid to fly.”

  I laugh softly. Oh god, my body just totally got turned on thinking about Chase and his hands and the great sex we used to have and he caught me. I’m such a moron.

  He gives me a funny look when I laugh, but I wave him off. “I’m fine. No problems at all.”

  He watches me with a questioning look in his eyes, then nods once and climbs out of the car. Once outside, he props one foot up against the wheel well of the limo and lights a cigarette.

  “Haven’t quit yet?” I ask and wrinkle my nose. Chase knows I hate smoking, but I also know he hates the idea of quitting. It’s not really an issue, just one more thing we tease each other about.

  “Don’t worry,” he says as he exhales a flowing swirl of smoke and winks at me. “I brought my breath mints.”

  I roll my eyes dramatically in response, despite having to bite back a smile. The weekend I showed up on their first tour with Nicole, I handed him a tin of strong mints and told him if he wanted to kiss me he’d have to have one after every cigarette. He looked at me like I was nuts. Then he smiled, popped in a mint, and kissed me like I’d never been kissed before. Before I realized what was happening, I found myself plastered up against the outside of their tour bus, gasping for my breath and my common sense when he finally pulled away.

  “You keep kissing me like that and I’ll make sure I always have mints on hand.”

  The memory makes me smile just as Chase walks around the corner of the limo, cigarette gone, and pushing the tin of mints back into his front pocket with a wicked smile on his face.

  Just as I’m boarding the plane, my phone signals a new text message from Nicole. Digging my phone out of my purse, I frown when I read it.

  Nic: Have a fun trip with Chase. See you soon. *wink wink*

  I don’t have to wonder what the winks are for. She’s been firmly on Team Chase for two years now and has been completely flabbergasted as to why I suddenly ended things. I haven’t bothered explaining and she hasn’t stopped pushing. It’s the fact that she knows I’m flying with Chase that makes me pause. What are these two planning, and how did she know I’d agree to fly with him?

  The plane is like a living room with wings. On one side is a gray leather couch with a coffee table in front of it and two navy blue chairs facing each other on each end of the couch. The other side has matching navy blue leather chairs with a table in front of them where you can easily sit and eat a meal. A flat screen TV is imbedded into the wall above the chairs and I can see a small kitchenette in the back.

  “This is … wow.” I look at Chase who has a sheepish grin on his face.

  “Kind of cool, huh?”

  “You were going to fly on this by yourself?”

  He shrugs and flops down on the couch looking slightly nervous. My stomach starts to sink as I wonder if he did this for me. I don’t need extravagance like this and it makes me wonder for the second time what he’s planning. What he wants from me.

  Does he expect after six months of not talking that we’ll just go back to our friendly benefit arrangement? I like him, I do. I just don’t think I have it in me to give him anything more than that and I’m not entirely sure he’s okay with just that anymore.

  Or I’m being completely pretentious and egotistical and losing my job today has totally messed with my head.

  I take one of the chairs across from the c
ouch and pretend to look that I’m neither uncomfortable nor losing my mind.

  “So I don’t really want to get my head bit off again,” Chase begins and I slide him a glance. His legs are straight out in front of him and crossed at the feet, resting on the coffee table while his arms are slung wide against the back of the couch and his shirt is stretched so tight across his biceps that it looks like the threads could split at any second. He simply consumes the space. “I just want you to know that if you need some help finding a new job, I’m sure between the guys in the band we could help you find something in New York … if that’s where you want to stay.”

  The last part of his comment makes my breath hitch. Of course I want to stay in New York. I love it there, even if it did take some time to get used to. New York is the hub of the fashion industry, why would I want to leave? I have to stay there. But other than my job, I don’t have any real friends or family there. Nic is all the way across country and my parents and brother still live in Minnesota.

  I haven’t thought of leaving New York, but is there any reason to stay?

  I shake the thought out of my head, which Chase takes as a ‘no’ on his offer.

  “I appreciate the offer,” I explain, much more nicely than I did at my apartment. “I just haven’t had any time to consider my options. Thanks though.”

  He nods and is silent while the one flight attendant comes out and offers us drinks and tells us we’ll be taking off shortly. A few minutes later, I’m pretending to read the magazine I grabbed on the way out of my apartment as the plane starts moving and we’re lifting off.

  We’re somewhere over who-knows-where an hour or so into our flight when the silence between Chase and I becomes so thick that I can’t even pretend I’m still reading my fashion magazine.

  He’s been scribbling lines in his notebook. It’s a brown leather composition book and the edges are worn and tattered, the spine is almost completely falling apart, and it’s filled with lyrics and beats to songs that he’s either written or is working on. I watch him work silently for several minutes and simply admire him. Occasionally, he rubs one hand across his hair and makes a face like he’s not completely comfortable with the feel of it. I have a picture on a bookshelf in my living room that Nicole took when she went on her first tour with Zack. They’re in the back room of his tour bus sitting on a couch with their heads bowed over this same notebook. Both of them have a small frown in between their eyes as Zack’s fingers rest on the fret board of his guitar and Chase is holding two pens in his hands, mimicking the way he holds his drumsticks. It’s by far my favorite picture of Chase because he never looks sexier than when he’s working on his music.

  “You keep thinking that hard and your head might explode.” Chase grins at me with that crooked smile, sets his pen down, and leans back on the couch. He rocks his head side to side, stretching his neck muscles. “What are you thinking about?”

  “I was just thinking about my mom,” I say with a sigh followed by a yawn that I can’t even begin to fight. This day has been exhausting, and the longer I sit still, the more tired I become.

  Chase frowns for a second and nods his head like he understands. He does, to an extent. I’ve told him about my mom being sick, how Elijah took over all the cooking and became a parent to me – making sure I got to school, ate, and finished my homework. Chase only knows a minimum about my dad though because I hate talking about him. He used to be the perfect dad – playing outside with us, taking us to parks and ballgames, helping us with our homework. Now he’s got this red swollen nose and constant bloodshot eyes from years of heavy drinking and we consider it a good day if he remembers to change his clothes without my mom telling him to. It’s about once a week.

  “You know,” he starts to say and leans forward on his elbows, hands clasped together. “You don’t always have to be the one taking care of everything for everyone else.”

  I roll my eyes. It’s a common reaction to people telling me what to do. I can’t help it. “I don’t.”

  Chase guffaws. “Right. Because you didn’t take care of your parents for years when you should have been enjoying high school and college. And you didn’t move in with Nicole for months after Mark and Andrew’s death. And you didn’t turn down half a dozen promotions after that because you couldn’t bear to leave her so messed up. You take care of everyone you love, which is admirable. I just wonder if you will let other people take care of you when you need it.”

  My whole body bristles in annoyance. I let people help me, don’t I? Elijah helped me for years. Nicole and I have always been there for one another.

  “Screw you, Chase. You don’t know anything.”

  I hate that he can piss me off so quickly, and he’s done it twice tonight. Chase grits his teeth together like he’s suddenly pissed off that I have the gall to remind him that we’re not actually in a relationship.

  Then his jaw relaxes and he winks at me. “You ever join the mile high club?”

  I laugh. I can’t help it. This is Chase. He pushes me until he can’t push anymore and then he backs off, acting like we’re just two friends who have sex sometimes. I hate when he does this. And yet, I love it because this Chase is easy to be around.

  “That’s not the screwing I was talking about.”

  “A man can dream.”

  “Keep dreaming because it’s absolutely not happening tonight.”

  Chase throws his head back and laughs. Then he clasps his hands together behind his head and relaxes against the back of his couch. “But you’re leaving room for another?”

  I want to tell him to shut up. I also sort of want to take him up on his offer, but just as I’m debating how to respond while he sits there smiling at me, I yawn again. It’s large and loud and almost embarrasses me.

  “There’s a bed in the back you know.” He wiggles his eyebrows at me in a suggestive way.

  “Shut up,” I say, laughing once.

  He throws his hands up in an innocent gesture. “Get your head out of the gutter. If you’re tired, go back and sleep. I’ll wake you up when the plane lands.”

  A bed sounds fantastic right now. And yet, I don’t really feel like being alone. Chase showing up at my doorstep wasn’t ideal, but his company has been distracting enough that I haven’t had to think about losing my job and what else that means for me now.

  I take a deep breath and close my eyes. I hate this feeling. That everything I worked so hard for, spent years busting my ass for, just got ripped out of my hands and out of my life. I hate feeling out of control, and I’m not sure I want to go into a dark room alone with all of my thoughts right now. I’m afraid my life will be like a house made of cards and if I let that top card blow over, everything else will tumble underneath. I hate feeling like I’m one more crazy thought away from everything falling to shit.

  “Would you want … I mean … never mind.” I shake my head at my own stuttering and inability to ask for what I want. I don’t want to be alone, but being so close to him right now isn’t smart either.

  Chase chews on the inside of his cheek and purses his lips while I walk away. I can feel his eyes on me until I get into the bedroom and shut the door.

  The bed is inviting me, practically calling my name out loud, to lay down and relax for once today. I’m barely able to brush my teeth and wash my face I feel so tired.

  Minutes later, once I’m crawled under the covers, I’m trying to think about anything except what I’m going to do about my job when the door slowly opens. I don’t need to turn my head or open my eyes to know that it’s Chase.

  For one, there’s no one else on the plane with us. And two, the man always seems to know what I need without me having to say it.

  I sort of hate him for it.

  Without saying a word, he strips off his shirt and jeans, leaving only his boxer briefs on. I can’t see him, but that’s what he wears and I know they’re perfectly formed to every inch of his muscular thighs and probably white. His skin always has a littl
e bit of a tan, making his boxer briefs look that much brighter and sexier.

  I shiver when he climbs in bed next to me, and with one arm, pulls me to his chest so my back is lined against every hard muscle on his body.

  “If you didn’t want to sleep alone all you had to do was ask.” He whispers it against my neck, his warm breath so close to my skin and the sensitive spot behind my ear that goose bumps flare up all over my body instantly.

  “Sometimes, Chase, I think I sort of hate you.”

  He chuckles softly and his fingers on my stomach dig into my skin, just slightly, like I’ve made him flinch.

  “I know you do, babe, but just let someone else help you tonight. You can go back to being your strong, independent, kick-ass self tomorrow.”

  I can feel his heart beating against my back and smell his cologne, a mixture of pine and leather, as I fall asleep.

  Mia’s heart beat eventually slows down when she falls asleep. I brush a lock of her long blonde hair out of her eyes and fight the urge to gently kiss her cheek, afraid I’ll wake her up. Taking a deep breath, I lean forward just enough to be able to smell her beautiful soft skin. I hate the sadness I saw in her earlier today. Her eyes were red and swollen, and I instantly wanted to pound the shit out of whoever made her cry.

  I’ve seen a lot of shit go down in the last couple of years. Drama with her family. Drama between Zack and Nicole before they finally figured their shit out. Yet, never once did she come close to crying. But take away her job? The career she loves? It pisses me off seeing her so upset, knowing how much she wanted this job and how damn good she is at it.

  I pull her closer to me, holding her tightly because I know as soon as she wakes up, she’ll flip her hair, smile, leave the plane, and we’ll go back to being friends.