Over My Brother's Dead Body, Chase Andrews(9)
Author: Piper Rayne

 

Twyla’s wearing a pair of tight jeans and a casual white button-up shirt with white sneakers. Her hair is more wavy than curly today and she smiles at us as though she hasn’t a care in the world.

 

“Hey, guys. You must be beat. That’s a workout.” She wipes the sweat from her forehead.

 

“We still have a scrimmage this afternoon. You’re going to stick around, eat with us, and watch, right?”

 

She hems and haws. “I should probably get going. I have to feed Kiwi.” When Miles’s eyebrows draw down, she adds, “The cat I’m watching.”

 

“Right. Okay, well, listen, I talked to Chase, and he’s going to take you to the gala. Sorry, I have a date this year.”

 

Way to just throw it out there, Miles.

 

Her mouth drops open and her eyes widen, and she quickly turns to me. The expression reminds me of the deer’s eyes when I hit it on the highway back in high school.

 

“Try to contain your excitement,” I say.

 

“You had a good time whenever I’ve brought you and everyone’s going to be there.”

 

Miles doesn’t spell out the fact that he doesn’t want her sitting at home alone, but she’s not an idiot. She knows exactly why he’s setting up dates for her.

 

“You’re usually the one trying to sabotage my dates, not make them for me,” she says.

 

“Because this isn’t a real date; it’s with Chase.” He bops her on the end of her nose with his finger as though she’s a toddler, and she rolls her eyes.

 

I don’t know how she doesn’t get tired of his shit.

 

“So this woman you asked, is it serious?” she asks Miles.

 

“You sound like Mom. I’m gonna go eat. Give me a call later, all right?” He tugs her into his side and kisses the top of her head.

 

I can’t help but wonder what her hair smells like. In my experience, women have two kinds of scents: floral or berry. I wonder which one she is.

 

“Will do.” She smiles and watches him go, but as soon as he’s out of earshot, she faces me again, head angled to the side. “Chase, you don’t have to take me to the gala. It’s really nice that you agreed to as my brother’s friend, but I’m not going to impose on your night out. You should go with someone you’re into.”

 

I swallow hard. I can’t tell her I would be going with someone I’m into. That’s something she’ll never know. Something Miles will never know.

 

“Don’t worry about it.” My voice comes out gruffer than I intend.

 

“No, really. I’ll be fine.” She rests her hand on my forearm.

 

God, she’s so tiny compared to me.

 

“I wasn’t asking anyone else anyway.”

 

She blinks rapidly a couple of times and her head swivels back. “Oh… okay. Still though, I don’t want a pity invite.” The corners of her lips tip down, and I realize how much I hate seeing her upset. She’s almost always smiling and happy.

 

I step forward, moving closer to her so that she has to rear her head back to look up at me. “No pity involved. Any guy should be honored to have you on their arm for a night.”

 

She swallows hard as she maintains my gaze. “As long as you’re sure you don’t mind.”

 

“I don’t mind, Twyla.” I turn to leave, take a few steps, then turn around. “In case I don’t see you before then—I’ll knock on your door at five thirty the night of the gala.”

 

She smiles and nods. I walk away, already knowing I’m knee-deep in shit.

 

 

 

 

 

Seven

 

 

 

 

 

Twyla

 

 

 

 

 

For the next week, I don’t run into Chase once. Not by the mailboxes, not entering or exiting the building, nor in the elevator. I’m not sure if that’s by his design or just a coincidence, but I’m oddly disappointed every time I step into the hallway or the lobby and he’s not there.

 

So, by 5:25 the evening of the gala, my nerves are shot. Chase said he didn’t mind taking me, but it’s hard not to feel like a pitiful little girl whose brother set her up—especially since it’s not even a real date. The idea of someone spending time with me because they feel obligated, not because they want to… well, let’s just say I’ve spent a lot of time wondering how long my ex-fiancé wanted to bail on our engagement before he finally said something.

 

But I decide not to focus on the negativity Mathew left me with and instead have a good time tonight. Moping around won’t change the fact Chase is taking me because Miles asked him.

 

I went shopping with Shayna this week and found a dress, a pale-blue chiffon A-line dress with a halter and high neck and a slit up the front of the dress. Half my hair is piled up in curls on top of my head, and the rest hangs down my back. I’m wearing more makeup than I normally do. Overall, I have a classy, polished look.

 

I don’t know what Chase’s type is, but I’m sure I’m not it. Being the little sister of his teammate takes me out of the running immediately.

 

Not that I should be thinking about what his type is anyway. I’m still grieving my future with Mathew, although truthfully, I hate him more and more every day.

 

The doorbell rings and I smooth the front of my dress, drawing in a deep breath. The walk to the door is excruciatingly long, and when I swing open the door, I can’t put into words the feelings rushing through my body. It’s not that I haven’t seen Chase’s six foot four-inch frame in a tuxedo—I’ve been to the gala before—but it will take anyone’s breath away every time.

 

“Hey,” I say, opening the door a little wider so he can step in.

 

His eyes roam up and down my body and when he sees me notice, he looks apologetic. “Hey.” We stand there awkwardly for a beat, and when I think he might compliment how I look, he says, “You ready to go?”

 

Disappointment tumbles through my stomach like a bowling ball plopping down the stairs, but I keep my smile in place. “Just let me grab my purse and coat.”

 

He takes the door from me, and I hurry over to the front closet where my coat is hanging, slip it on, and grab my purse off the entry table. “All set.”