Chase's Perspective
A smile tugged at my lips as I watched her sleep. She looked impossibly sweet, peaceful even. What was happening to me? These thoughts weren't mine. I never noticed girls before, never felt the need to admire them.
The girl in my arms was the same one from the cafeteria—the one with those captivating hazel eyes that had drawn me in. She stirred something unfamiliar within me, a feeling I hadn’t known I was capable of experiencing. A warmth I wanted to hold onto.
*You have a crush on her,* a voice taunted from within.
“No, I don’t,” I muttered, silencing the unwelcome thought. “And if I am an idiot, you’re one too.”
*I don’t have a crush on her,* I insisted to myself, even as the denial felt hollow.
My internal monologue was cut short by my phone buzzing. I ignored it. My hands were full, cradling her gently. I needed to get her to her corner of the bar, but where were Mason and Ace? My phone rang again, and again I ignored it. I was carrying a beautiful angel, a dangerous thought that was beginning to take root. What was I saying?
Turning toward the Range Rover, I realized it wasn’t there. Ace had the keys, he’d been driving earlier. I had no choice but to adjust my hold, lowering her head onto my thigh. She was too perfect to just drop.
I pulled out my phone. Twenty missed calls. Four messages. I opened the texts first:
*Ace:* Bro, where’d you go?
*Ace:* Manson’s still breathing ????
*Ace:* Took your car to get Manson to the hospital. Jackson can bring your other car.
*Ace:* Bro, you okay?
I replied curtly.
*Me:* Okay. Yeah, I’m fine.
I dialed Jackson immediately.
“Boss.”
“Jackson, bring the Mercedes Benz.”
“Right away, sir.” He hung up. I pocketed my phone and adjusted my grip on her. I didn’t even know her name. “Princess” would have to do for now.
Five minutes later, Jackson pulled up.
“Hey bos—” He stopped mid-sentence, staring at the sight of her in my arms.
“Yeah? You were saying?”
“Oh uh… here’s the car, sir. Should I drive?”
“Of course, dumbass.” I said, pushing her gently into the car and rushing to the driver’s side. Jackson just stood there, stunned. "Are you going to start the car or am I leaving you here?"
"No, sir. Sorry, sir." He mumbled, climbing into the driver's seat.
The thought circled in my mind, insistent and unwelcome:
*I will never love again…*
Author’s Note:
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