We agree to meet at Blake's on Saturday at eight. I get to his house a little earlier than the others, wearing a leather skirt I'd found in the back of my closet. It's not the kind of thing I'd usually wear, but tonight it seems fitting.
The drive to his house is the worst it's ever felt. It doesn't matter how often I tell myself not to overthink. Between every stoplight, it's all I can do. What if I tell him and he doesn't say it back? What if he quits as my campaign captain? I'm taking a risk by not waiting until next week, but the longer I wait to tell him how I feel, the more likely I'll back out. I want to do this now while I feel ready; I need to.
After parking my car, I climb out and straighten my dress before heading to the basement. Blake takes one look at me as I walk through the door, joint dangling from his mouth and freezes.
My heart thumps wildly at his reaction. Blake puts the joint in the ashtray and walks over. Before he can speak, I pull him closer, feigning bravery, and let him push me up against the wall. Maybe it's stupid – scratch that, it's ridiculous – but tonight, I plan to do everything possible to sway the odds in my favor, including driving him insane.
He stares at me, surprised, but quickly takes my waist. I reach up, pull him closer by his neck, and kiss him. It's brief and tantalizingly gentle – a taste of what's to come.
He leans closer, resting his mouth near my ear. When he speaks, his voice is heavy and rough. "You're killing me, Rose."
My heart does that thing where it jumps out of my chest. As I'm contemplating whether or not to kiss him again, footsteps sound outside the basement. We break apart as Liv and the others walk in, looking concert-ready, and glance between the two of us.
"Every time we walk in here," Freddie says, "Rose looks like she's been caught with her fingers in the cookie jar."
Liv swats his arm and turns to face me, smiling. "You guys ready? We wanna get there early to get closer to the stage."
Blake gets to his feet with a glance at my lips and sighs. "We're ready."
Liv drives us to the concert just out of town. Blake and I end up sandwiched next to each other, and every so often, he turns his head to look at me. His hand is so close that if he moved it slightly, he could place it on my thigh, but with Kenny beside us, it's far too risky. Still, I can't help but want him to anyway.
I turn to the window, watching trees and various outlets pass by in a state of anxiety. On the one hand, I'm desperate to find out how Blake feels about me. Despite our no overthinking policy, I'm tired of living in this state of limbo, not knowing where we stand either way. But on the other, I'm terrified. What if I'm wrong? What if, despite every sign saying yes, he says no? I'm not sure I could handle it.
With a deep breath, I focus on the feel of my bracelet as I press it between my fingers. I've never been to a concert before – it's not my thing – and as usual when Blake takes me out of my comfort zone, I wonder if this is such a good idea. Still, it's a nice distraction from the upcoming ballot for my presidency – a distraction from what I plan to do.
Liv pulls into the parking lot behind the venue. We climb out and stride toward what looks like a small, run-down basement sandwiched between a pharmacy and a pizza place. We're early enough that we get through the crowd outside of the entrance relatively quickly, but as I stare at the face piercings of the guy next to me, I can't help but feel entirely out of place.
Inside is as dark and smoky as Blake's basement but entirely unfamiliar. Blake grabs my hand, pulling me through the crowd of sweaty bodies and to the front of the stage. "Stay close to me," he says.
Someone knocks me from behind. As I stumble forward, Blake reaches out, grabbing my waist and pulling me into his side. I lean into him, able to breathe better as he guides me to the front.
We manage to find a space near the stage that is relatively unoccupied. I straighten up, trying to gather my bearings as I swiftly look around. The place gets more crowded by the second, and I can't imagine how busy it'll be once the band comes on. I rub my arms, my skin prickling at the thought of us squashed together like sardines.
"We're going to grab some water," Freddie says as he and Kenny push through the crowd.
I turn to Liv, who searches the crowd like she's looking for someone in particular. She smiles when she spots me looking and says, "I'm supposed to be meeting this girl tonight. I'll be right back, okay? I think she might be outside."
"We'll save your spot," I say.
As soon as she's gone, Blake tugs me closer until I'm forced to look at that beautiful half-grin. "Admit it, Matthews. You hate every minute of this."
"No, I don't," I say hotly. "I love being here." It's a downright lie but a necessary one. What's the point in telling him I like him if we have nothing in common?
"Yeah," he says, against my ear, "you do."
"No, I don't!"
"Rose," he says, lowering his voice, "you don't need to prove anything."
My cheeks burn, but the room is so dim that I doubt he can tell. "I'm not trying to prove anything," I say, but we both know it's a lie. "I just wanted you to think we have something in common."
His eyes grow serious as he pulls me closer. "Why?"
I shiver at the warmth of his breath. This isn't exactly the point in the night I'd been planning to tell him, but there's nothing left to say but the truth. I open my mouth, about to risk it all, when Liv comes back with her friend in tow and grabs my hand.
"Rose, this is Jessie," she says, nodding at the pretty blonde. "Jessie, these are my friends, Rose and Blake."
"Hey," Jessie says. To me, she adds, "Love your skirt."
"Thanks," I say. "Nice to meet you."
She smiles, which stretches her lip ring. "Likewise."
There isn't much time to say anything else. The opening act makes their way onto the stage as more and more bodies surround me. Freddie and Kenny push their way back toward us and hand me some water, which I gratefully sip as I turn to the stage. As the lead singer takes their place near the mic, I notice her t-shirt reads The Silverlights, a band I've never heard of, but the crowd around me breaks into cheers, so clearly, they have.
The moment the music starts – a loud, heavy thrashing in my ears – the crowd pulsates. I try to stand still, knowing that if I fall, I'll be swallowed by the group, but Liv grabs my arm and pulls me toward her. We start jumping to the bass, and I feel so sweaty and ridiculous that I laugh, and then I can't stop. Liv and Jessie laugh, too, holding my hands as we jump up and down in a huddle. As heads and shoulders thrust against mine, I'm hit with the feeling I'd gotten at the bridge. Not just this feeling of being free, but alive.
Heart pounding, I search the crowd and see Blake, Freddie and Kenny are over by the wall. Blake stares at me, that same bemused tilt of his mouth, and I smile before turning to Liv. If Chase ever saw me like this, I'd feel embarrassed, but I've never felt that way around Blake; I've never felt anything but safe.
When the main band comes on, Blake and the others push through the crowd to get to us. The place is at capacity, and when someone shoves past me to get to the front, I stumble back and into Blake's chest, who wraps his arms around me. Surprise takes over as I lean against him. Liv and the others glance over, smirking, but don't say a word.
The band is considerably more bearable than the opening act. We sway a little to one of the songs, but I'll admit, it's hard to concentrate on the lyrics with Blake's arms around me. All I can do is study his tattoos and revel in his warmth; I couldn't have picked a better night to tell him.
It dawns on me I'm living in one of those moments you look back on fondly and promise to cherish, even when you're older and wiser. The truth is, I don't know what will happen at the end of the night, whether I'll get a happy ending or if Blake is right and romance doesn't exist. But if there is one thing I do know, it's that right now, I'm happy, and that's all that matters.
"Are you thirsty?" Blake shouts.
I nod. I'd already downed the water Freddie got me, and my throat is as dry as sandpaper. Blake tells me he'll be back in a moment and goes to get us some water. As I'm waiting, my phone vibrates. I pull it from my handbag and glance at the screen to see an Instagram message notification from an unknown user.
Drop out of the running.
For about half a second, my heart palpitates. It doesn't take a genius to work out that the message is from Chase, but no matter how hard he tries, he doesn't have that power over me anymore. I message back, Not a chance, and delete the conversation. As I'm about to put my phone away, another message pings, this time of a video.
My heart stops.
Videos are never good.
"Are you all right?" Freddie asks. He peers over my shoulder, and I jump before turning my phone.
"I'm fine," I say. "I just need to use the bathroom."
I push through bodies without waiting for a response. The crowd feels suffocating, the air thick with sweat as I try to find an exit, but I'm stuck in a maze. The band starts a new song, one that must be more popular than the others, and the crowd goes wild. I keep going, ducking and dodging through groups of swaying people until finally, the crowd thins.
I'm forced to wait in line for the bathroom. As soon as I'm through, I head into a cubicle and lock the door behind me before pulling up the video. My fingers shake. I hate that my fingers shake – it's a sign that despite my best efforts, Chase has the power to terrify me – but I fight to keep them steady as I turn on the video.
At first, I don't register what I'm watching. The video is shaky, and I realize it's shot through the gap of a half-open classroom door. Blake sits on top of a table in an empty classroom, talking to someone off-screen. I can barely hear what the other voice is saying – it's been edited and distorted – but Blake's is clear as day.
"Let me get this straight," Blake says slowly. "You're going to pay me to sabotage Rose Matthews' campaign?"
Bile climbs its way up my throat as the other voice muffles something unintelligible. Blake thinks a moment, his eyebrow arched in that way I've grown to like. "All right," he says, "but if you want me to do this, I want double what she offered to pay me."
For the first time, the other voice comes out clear, if unrecognizable. "Deal."
Nausea creeps through me as the video cuts off. It's followed by another message – a single word, but one that has the power to buckle my knees as I lean on the door for support.
Checkmate.
A/N
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