The biggest shock was when I’d gone to Chase’s room in his house to tell Bree I was ready to leave, and stumbled upon a sketch book. I confronted him about it later at his parent’s, and he ran upstairs for a minute and brought down an armful of them. He was extremely talented and I shouldn’t have been surprised when he told me he was a tattoo artist at the shop Bree had taken me for our piercings. The way his eyes lit up as I gushed over each drawing tugged at my heart, and I tried desperately to push those feelings away. I’d spent a couple hours last Sunday watching him work on a few new pieces he wanted on his forearms while the whole family watched a couple movies in the living room. At some point I must have fallen asleep on the couch I’d been sharing with Chase because an explosion on the TV jerked me awake.

~~~

“It’s just the movie,” he whispered in my direction and ran his fingers over my cheek, “don’t move yet Princess.”

“Don’t move? Why?”

“I’m almost done, give me another minute or two.”

I heard his hand moving back and forth across the paper slowly and waited until he kneeled down in front of the couch so his face was directly in front of mine. My breath caught and his electric blue eyes glanced down to my barely parted lips. His tongue absently wetted his lips and his teeth lightly bit down on his bottom one as his gaze roamed my face.

“Why couldn’t I move?” I managed to ask when he started closing the distance between us.

He abruptly stopped and blinked a few times, “Oh, um. Well…here. Just don’t freak out, okay? I wasn’t trying to be creepy.”

“You’re not supposed to tell someone not to freak out, those words alone cause them to freak out.”

Chase smirked, “Okay, well then don’t hit me or use your pressure point training on me again.”

Before I could roll my eyes at him, he brought his sketch pad up in front of me and my jaw dropped. I felt my cheeks burn and he took that the wrong way. Snatching the pad of paper back up, he cursed softly.

“I knew it was creepy.”

“Chase,” I breathed and shook my head in an attempt to clear my thoughts, “that wasn’t creepy. Can I see it again?” When he didn’t make an attempt to move I reached my arm toward the book, “Please.”

He handed it over with a sigh and looked at me with a sad smile, “I’m sorry, but you looked too perfect. I couldn’t let that opportunity pass.”

My stupid blush came back with force when he said that and I focused at his drawing. It was amazing, somewhat embarrassing, but remarkable none the less. With the shading and the detail he’d captured of my upper body and face, it almost looked like a black and white photo. It was perfect. From my chest, throat and slightly open mouth to the way my hair fell around my face and my eyelashes rested against my cheeks, it was one hundred percent me. He even had my hand clutching the pillow under my head that was resting on his leg, as well as the blanket that had been pulled up to the swell of my br**sts. Goose bumps covered my body as I realized he’d spent however long staring at, and replicating, every part of me while I’d been completely unaware. He was wrong, it wasn’t creepy, it was beautiful and strangely intimate.

“Chase, it–” I cleared my throat and tried again, “It’s incredible.” Incredible didn’t cover it.

“Yeah?”

I looked up into his eyes and smiled, “Yeah.”

We stayed there staring at each other, my mind and heart completely torn in two. One half desperately wanted to act on the feelings his drawing had stirred up in me, and the other was screaming at me to sit up and scoot away from him. Before I could try to make a decision, another series of explosions came from the TV and we both jolted away from each other.

~~~

My face heated again as the memory of last Sunday played through my mind, and Chase’s annoyed look turned bemused. I pushed aside my awe and longing for that rare side of Chase and let my anger take forefront again. I don’t know why he was so different on Sundays, but at least during the week he would usually say hi to me. Not that I expected him to spend more time with me since I was always with Bree or Brandon during the week, but after that moment on Sunday I was dumbfounded as to why he’d avoided me like a leper since.

“Whatever. I’m done trying to figure you out. If you want to be an ass**le, go right ahead. But don’t keep acting like there’s nothing wrong between us on Sundays.”

“We’re back to this now?” He jeered.

“It’s a freaking miracle. He speaks.”

“You think I’m confusing? God Harper, that’s rich.” He laughed once and narrowed his eyes at me, “This coming from the girl who repeatedly told me to stay away but fell into my arms at the first sign of trouble with her boyfriend? Do you want me to back off, or don’t you?” Chase took a step forward, I took one back and he matched it, whispering in my ear, “Why keep fighting the inevitable baby? You want me. Even now your body is shaking because you’re trying to keep yourself from touching me.” Brushing the tips of his fingers across my hand he smiled, “One touch from me and you’re covered in goose bumps. Tell me now that you want me to go away.”

“You’re such an ass.” I growled and took another step back, “I just don’t understand why we can’t be friends all the time. I don’t want to be your friend on Sunday and the girl you don’t acknowledge every other day of the week. I want the same thing every day. So you decide what that is and let me know.” I moved to walk around him, but he put his arm up against the wall of the hallway, blocking me in.