Wherefore Art Thou, Chase?

Chapter 2: Mystery Girl Revealed

Janelle meandered through the party, having been left to fend for herself when Grant and one of his friends had asked Erin and Lily to dance. She was unaware that Chase was even at the party, never mind looking for her like it was his sole purpose in life. She merely observed her surroundings with disinterested attentiveness as she sipped at her soda. It was rare to find anything other than alcohol at these kinds of parties, but someone had taken the time to leave a few bottles of Coca-Cola beside the beer.

They were probably meant to make Rum-and-Cokes, she thought amusedly. But it’s still appreciated by those of use who like being sober.

A large hand coming down on her shoulder startled Janelle out of her thoughts and she swung around to face her assailant. Her breath caught in her throat as her gaze met Chase’s own brown one for just a moment. Then they both realized that, in her shock, Janelle had spilled her drink all over Chase’s shirt.

“Shit,” he swore, releasing her to wrinkle his nose at his stained shirt.

“Omigod, I am SO sorry,” she apologized hastily, staring at the brown splotch, standing out against the hunter green shirt. She stood there for a while, gaping at what she’d done. The distinct scent of Coca-Cola wafted to her nose, suddenly triggering Janelle into action. She took Chase’s hand without thinking and dragged him to where she’d seen a bathroom earlier in the night.

Surprisingly, it was devoid of anyone, unlike the rest of the house, and it provided a safe place for them to clean him up without drawing any more attention to their plight.

Chase was still swearing like a sailor on leave when Janelle sat him down on the toilet–the only available seating in the room– and grabbed a towel. While she turned the knobs on the tap, Chase yanked his shirt off up over his head.

“Don’t waste the towel,” he murmured, handing his “mystery woman” the shirt. She glanced at him, biting her lip to keep back the apologies threatening to spill forth, then took the shirt from him tentatively. Her fingers brushed against the backs of his hands and it sent a secret thrill zinging through his body.

“I’m Chase, by the way,” the acting student introduced himself as he watched her replace the towel, then ball up his shirt so that only the minimum amount would go under the faucet.

“Janelle,” she murmured, finding her mouth suddenly dry as she tried to focus on washing the shirt instead of his chest. The undershirt he wore had somehow avoided being splashed by her drink. Underneath it, she could still see defined pectorals and six-pack abs that only came from hard work, which made it hard not to ogle.

Reaching over to grab some soap, Janelle glanced at Chase, who was staring at her. Janelle could feel her cheeks heat under his intense gaze, but she said nothing, instead trying to scrub out the stain from her soda with new vigor. Finally, it became too unnerving for her though, and Janelle threw down the shirt and soap into the running water.

“What?” she asked, wanting to place her hands on her hips, or cross them in front of her chest, or do something with them instead of just letting them hang by her sides.

“You’re in my Shakespeare class, right?” Chase asked, startling her. She’d thought he hadn’t noticed her at all.

She nodded and Chase grinned, flaunting the most amazing dimples Janelle had ever seen. They made her go weak in the knees, but she hid it by returning to her task.

“What’s your point?” she asked, boring her gaze into the soaked shirt while she scrubbed it until the entire shirt–not just the splotch–was covered in suds.

“I was just wondering if you could…Not wear a hole into my shirt with a bar of soap?” he asked, beaming amusedly.

She laughed and Chase found himself tamping down on the urge to laugh with her, it was so infectious. After all, he’d seem arrogant if he laughed at his own joke. She replaced the bar of soap into the dish, then wrung out the shirt until it was as dry as possible, which was still drenched.

“I…I’m really, really sorry,” she apologized sheepishly, handing the hunter green T-shirt back to its owner, stain-free. He just flashed that dimple-revealing smile of his and squished it into a ball.

“Tell you what,” he began, looking thoughtful. “I’ll forgive you on two conditions. One, you catch me up on things going on in Shakespeare 101. And two, you let me put this wet shirt in my friend’s car and then you share a dance with me,” he offered, watching her intently for any sign of reluctance or interest. Strangely enough, he saw both emotions flash in her oddly familiar doe-brown eyes. He got the sense that something crucial was missing from her face. Something that could easily piece together why Janelle looked so familiar to him. Unfortunately, he didn’t get the chance to elaborate on that train of thought because she was responding to his “peace-offering.”

“I wouldn’t mind helping you with Professor Curtis’ class, but, well…” Janelle broke off, mumbling something unintelligible. She was hugging her elbows nervously and she’d lowered her gaze until she was staring around him.

“What was that?” he asked, smiling encouragingly.

“I don’t dance.” In public, she added silently, shifting uncomfortably from foot-to-foot and feeling her face go red to the roots of her hair. “I-its not like I haven’t tried,” she added, knowing she was about to start babbling about how she’d hadn’t inherited the “dancing genes” from her mother, who was very graceful when dancing. Luckily, he stopped her by placing one solid finger against her lips, making her quiver with something she hadn‘t felt this strongly for a very long time.

“Everyone dances,” he told her simply, after he’d lifted his finger.

She snorted in a very unladylike manner and shook her head. “Not me,” she told him bluntly. Before he could argue with her further, Janelle had turned briskly on her heel and rushed out of the bathroom. She went in search of her friends, frantic because she could hear Chase trying to get her attention over the din of the music. But, she ignored him, finally spotting Lily dancing by herself in a corner. Janelle managed to grab her without slowing her pace, taking only a few moments to tell the blonde woman that they were leaving–now.

Lily nodded, shrugging off the urgency of the situation.

“Where’s Erin?” the acting student asked her relative, who shrugged.

“I dunno…” was Lily’s drunken response, before she began to babble about this really cute boy she had danced with. Janelle listened distractedly, still searching for Erin. The good news was, she had somehow managed to elude Chase while towing her inebriated cousin.

Finally, Janelle caught sight of a flash of wild auburn hair. Erin was sitting in a seat by the door. The bad news was, she was sitting on someone’s lap, making out with him like she was suffocating and he was her only source of air.

“Erin!” she shouted, tugging at the redhead’s shoulder firmly, miraculously dislodging the woman from…Well, whoever he was, he certainly wasn’t Grant. “We’re leaving,” Janelle shouted as she yanked the Irishwoman off of the gawky young man’s lap.

Erin pouted for a moment, then blew a kiss to the guy, stumbling behind her best friend, half-drunk on alcohol and half-drunk from the adrenaline high she was coming down from.

As Janelle dumped both of her room mates into the backseat of her car, she thought she saw a man who looked extremely similar to Chase coming out of the house and rushing towards the vehicle, but she didn’t stop to check. The woman started the car, buckled her belt, then peeled out from where she’d parked, not acknowledging the fact that she was trembling like a timid rabbit who had just heard a gun shot very close to their whereabouts.

************

The next day, Janelle slid into her seat bonelessly, looking at the rest of the class. Her arithmetic class consisted of a menagerie of students, most of them, much like herself, only taking the class in order to get the credits they needed to graduate.

She massaged her temples, having had a constant headache from the night before. Unlike her room mates, though, her headache wasn’t from drink. Nor was it the pressure of the up-coming auditions, which usually kept her up at night whenever they rolled around. It wasn’t even work that had her so stressed out. This stress was caused singularly by the owner of the most gorgeous chocolate brown eyes Janelle had ever seen.

“Janelle Scott, right?”

Janelle blinked confusedly up at the boy who stood by her desk. He had thick, black, horn-rimmed glasses with tape on the bridge of the nose. Behind his glasses, Janelle could see greenish-blue eyes that sparkled with intelligence and wit. She could tell he had a nervous habit of spearing his fingers through his black hair, which was kept annoyingly short. He was gawky and awkward-looking, but if he were a few years older and filled out with age, he might be handsome. As it was, he looked to be only about 17 or 18.

“That’s me,” she answered, wondering why this boy looked so familiar. “What’s going on?” she asked, when he didn’t say anything for a long time.

“Well, uh, you see, I’d like to make a deal with you,” he told her nervously, his voice squeaking every so often, but his cheeks heating adorably. “I…I know you’re not doing so well in this class and, well, because I’m majoring in teaching math, I-I thought you might be interested in getting some t-tutoring. A-all I ask, is that you set me up with that red-haired friend of yours,” he stammered. Suddenly, Janelle’s mind flashed an image of this boy at the party, sitting in a chair. His entire appearance was disheveled–hair sticking up, glasses fogged up and askew, eyes glazed over, and red lipstick prints all over his jaw and neck.

This was the guy that Janelle had to forcibly pull Erin away from last night. Looking at him, Janelle realized that he wasn’t Erin’s type, at all. But, the redhead had a predilection for breaking up with guys, then finding her next one in the same night. And Erin had dumped Grant last night because he was “holding her back.”

“I don’t even know your name, or anything about you,” Besides the fact that you made out with my best friend last night, Janelle added.

“My name’s Huey Kent…Erin and I…We met last night at the party,” he told her quietly, still shifting from foot-to-foot and spearing his fingers through his hair.

Janelle sized him up for another moment, before nodding. “Fine, but if anything happens to her, I will hunt you down and we’re gonna have a little chat,” she threatened, making sure Huey knew she was serious. Janelle was fiercely loyal to her friends and family and if something happened to one of them, the woman took it personally.

They exchanged schedules and came up with the arrangements. They’d meet at his place every Friday afternoon because it was easiest. Janelle knew it would sound odd, but she doubted Huey was interested in her that way and besides, if he made a move, she could break both his nose and his jaw using her training. Huey gave her his address right before the professor walked in late and began the class.