Just realised I completely forgot to attach a trailer for TADS made by xxcallmemargoxx! Fan art makes my heart so happy and this one is FAB

Comment on this chapter for a chance to be featured as a CHARACTER in the next one <3

E l e v e n : Funny Business

"It needs more cheese."

"Huh?" I mumble, tugging out my blaring earphones to focus my attention on my sister, standing beside me at the kitchen counter. Chloe's expression is flat and unimpressed, and she points a baby pink fingernail at the bowl in front of me.

"Those pathetic excuses for nachos need more cheese."

"Oh." I blink, then turn my attention to the hot bowl of nachos in front of me, my salsa spoon lingering tauntingly in the air. I lower a satisfying dollop of tomato directly in the centre. "Well, what I lack in cheese, I make up for in guacamole and salsa."

"Erika." Chloe sighs and twists around to rest her lower back against the counter beside me, rendering it impossible for me to ignore those concerned eyes. "What's wrong?"

"Why would anything be wrong?" I ask casually, placing a heaping spoonful of guacamole onto my already towering stack of nachos. After half a second of deliberation, I add a second spoon. The tower wobbles uncertainly. "Everything is fine."

"You look about as stable as those nachos."

Scowling, I collect my bowl of food and twist away from her, padding towards the living room in my fluffy socks. "Well, it's nacho concern, Chloe. Day job, remember?"

"Counselling is my day job," Chloe agrees, following closely behind to my annoyance. "But caring for my sister is a 24/7 occupation. I'm on call permanently."

I collapse onto the couch, slinging my fluffy purple feet over the armrest with the bowl of nachos nestled into my lap. I take a cheesy triangle and scoop up as much avocado as I can possibly manage. "I hope you're getting paid well, then."

As I pop the nacho into my mouth and begin to fumble for the TV remote, Chloe positions herself directly in front of me with her hands on her hips, blocking my view of the television. She glowers down at me, and the Pikachu pyjama t-shirt she's wearing does nothing to detract from her intimidation. "You've been moping around for days, eating nachos. You've been through three packs of tortilla chips, Erika."

"That wasn't just me," I retort. "Miko had some."

"Miko hasn't been here."

"Fed-Ex. They'll be delivered to her in two to three working days."

Chloe's frown intensifies. "Erika, be serious, please."

I sigh and sink further into the cushions. I would be lying if I said I'd been in a good mood for the past three days. Since that argument with Chase, everything seems to have gone downhill. I haven't spoken to him, and I miss him more than I should. I got a bad grade back from my History pop-quiz, and my chances at Stanford seem to be slipping through my fingers with every failure I make; both educational and moral. And to top things off, my period has started, leading to my excessive nacho intake and some back aches.

But avocado is healthy right? Nachos are a balanced meal.

Just as I'm about to reward Chloe with another deflective quip, I hear a distinct tap sound from the window. Chloe's head snaps to look towards the charcoal curtains.

"As I was saying," I continue, turning back to Chloe. "A girl does not need an excuse to eat nachos to her heart's content so stop shami-"

Tap.

"What is that?" Chloe mumbles, clearly not paying attention to me. She strides over to the windowsill and peels back the heavy curtains to reveal the dark driveway outside.

"It's probably nothing," I say, licking guacamole from my fingertips.

"It's not nothing."

There's something eerie in the way that Chloe says that sentence which catches my attention. I twist around slowly to examine further. She's grinning, holding the curtains close to block my view outside. "It seems you have a gentleman caller, Miss Erika Monroe."

"Ha," I say, crunching on another nacho. "Funny."

"I'm serious."

Tap.

Tugged to my feet by curiosity, I slide across the floor in my socks to approach the window. As soon as I get close, however, Chloe places a firm hand on my shoulder to push me away. She shakes her head so adamantly that her wild messy bun wiggles on top of her head, and the printed face of Pikachu on her t-shirt seems to disagree along with her.

"Get your shoes on and go outside."

Muttering complaints under my breath, I head out into the hallway and slide my sneakers on. The cool breeze washes over me as I step outside, ruffling my loose curls. This is my favourite time- just past dusk, when the world is drained of most light, but the air is still faintly warm. Like bath water that has cooled.

"Hello?" I murmur, feeling stupid.

Tap.

Following the source of the noise, I cautiously step down from my porch and walk over the yard to side of my house. Chase Thatcher is standing beside the large cherry tree, throwing what appears to be pebbles at the living room window. Clothed in a tight, dark hoodie, he blends into the night. Despite my white Bowie sweatshirt, he hasn't seen me.

"Chase," I call softly. "What the hell are you doing?"

Chase glances at me in shock, after just releasing another pebble. "Erika-"

Smash.

My gaze flits to the living room window. I stare, chilled to my spot, as cracks dance across the large glass pane. They stem from a tiny hole in the lower left corner, spreading in various directions like a giant, glass spider. What is more terrifying, however, is the thought of my mother's reaction. It's enough to spur me into action.

Chase, meanwhile, continues to curse frantically. "Shit. Shit. Holy- oh, shit."

I clamp down hard on his hand and tug him towards the bushes lining the side of our front yard. I can already hear my mom exclaiming at the noise from inside the house.

"What are you doing?" Chase whispers to me, as I push him into the largest shrub I can find. Tugging harshly on his hand, I pull us both down to a crouching position. Our backs are exposed to the road behind us, but it should be enough to protect us from Mom's wrath.

"I'm praying to the Gods of Glass that they'll forgive your sins."

"Really?"

"No, you dumbass, I'm hiding us!"

I adjust my feet, close my eyes and wait for the drama to ensue.

"Listen, Erika-"

"Shush, I'm trying to listen."

I can hear Mom shouting inside the house. Although her words are indistinct, the sheer volume which she's speaking at is enough for my knees to clamp. Chase is adjusting his position in the shrub beside me, and that's when I realise that I haven't let go of his hand. His fingers are slim and cool, and somehow, in the last thirty seconds of us sitting here in silence, they've managed to intertwine themselves with mine.

Chase catches me staring, and I promptly pull my hand away.

"Gorgeous-"

"Don't call me that. I don't want to hear it."

Chase looks at me, exasperated. There's a faint tinge of pink in his cheeks, like the inside of a rose petal. "I'm trying to freakin' apologise to you. Please, can you just listen?"

I glare. "Apologise then."

"I-" Chase hesitates. "Let me take you somewhere."

I pretend to ponder, lifting one of my tingling fingers to scratch my chin. "That's a funny-sounding apology. If I thought it possible, I might even think it was a request."

Chase leans out and grabs my hand again, squeezing it firmly. Under the dark locks of hair scattered haphazardly across his forehead, his eyes hold an intensity that somehow denies me the power of leaning away. "Erika. Trust me."

"What is it?" Despite myself, my voice sounds drained and weak. "Are we going to rob a bank? Plot to steal the Declaration of Independence, or better yet, the Moon?"

Chase rolls his eyes and utilising his grip on my hand, pulls me back up to a standing position. It's only when we've emerged from the sanctuary of the branches, that we notice the dark figure standing in the grass ahead of us. My Dad is watching us with raised eyebrows, a pink baseball bat held loosely in both hands. In the darkness, I can't see much of his expression, but the way his eyes drop to our linked hands is completely unmistakable.

"Dad." I say it like a curse word- curt and fast. I tug my hand free from Chase.

Dad groans, and I can see the crinkles of his forehead even in the dim light. "Please tell me that you're the ones that threw the pebble."

"Please?" I repeat stupidly. "You want us to have done it?"

Dad's hands clamp tighter around the floral baseball bat. "Well yes, because the alternative is that you were in that bush for an entirely different reason and I really would rather not have a conversation about tha-"

"No," I say sharply, cutting him off. I clear my throat, all too aware of the catch in my voice. "There was nothing like um- that going on. I threw the pebble."

In my peripheral vision, I see Chase glance at me.

"You threw it?" My Dad echoes sceptically. He lets the bat fall from one of his hands and it swings in front of his body, before resting at his side. "Why?"

"I want to take up rock-skimming. I was practicing my aim."

Dad makes a disgruntled noise. "And I suppose you're not coming back inside?"

"You suppose right."

This time, Dad looks at the boy beside me. I can feel Chase's body tense under the spotlight of my father's scrutiny. Without removing his eyes from Chase, my Dad speaks to me in a velvet soft mumble. "I'll tell your Mom that you've gone to the library to study. Be back before midnight, or I won't cover for you. And," he pauses. "No funny business."

"Thanks Dad," I say, cracking a bashful smile.

"Also, no more rock-skimming. It clearly isn't the sport for you."

"I begrudgingly accept that. I really thought it was my thing, y'know?"

"Shut up." My Dad grunts, eyeing Chase. He lifts the pink baseball bat tauntingly, smacking it down in his other palm. "Remember this bat, boy. Keep it imprinted in your mind, because if you lay your hands on my daughter, you'll have to explain to the Doctors the last thing you saw before it all went black. And it will be this fashionable, pink floral design."

"Um- yes, sir."

Dad nods at both of us in turn, before turning and marching back up the yard.

"Is that your Dad's bat or yours?" Chase mumbles under his breath.

"His," I say with a proud smile. "He likes the colour pink."

*~*~*

"I genuinely thought we were plotting to burn down the London Houses of Parliament," I say, examining the grey metal fence in front of me. "I didn't think you'd take me to school."

Chase brushes his fingers over the heavy padlock. "Do you trust me?"

"In theory."

"Then get that cute ass of yours over the gate."

"Guy Fawkes has nothing on your recklessness," I mutter. Nevertheless, with a firm exhale, I wedge my foot into a gap between the bars and begin to climb the horizontal supports of the school gate. My phone feels heavy in my back pocket. I try to convince myself that the weight is reassuring as I pull myself up higher.

After thirty seconds, I am sitting uneasily at the top of the school gate, squinting into the darkness on the other side and wondering how in the hell I plan to get down.

"Well, that was a nice view," Chase says as he clambers up beside me.

My Dad would undoubtedly call that remark 'funny business.'

"Not as nice as my Dad's pretty baseball bat," I remind Chase.

"Touché."

My eyes focus on a recycling bin, slightly further along the fence. I begin edging carefully over the thin metal, silently cursing the untied laces on my white sneakers. "I've been doing squats so that my ass matches my sass. I'm glad it paid off."

Before Chase can summon a response, I launch myself from the fence and land squarely on the large green recycling bin, bending my knees to absorb the impact. Then, in a fluid movement, I slide down and land firmly on the grass. I brush my knees off and can't restrain my sigh of relief at the comfort of solid ground.

"Impressive," Chase comments, jumping down to the spot beside me.

He takes his sweet time, brushing his jeans down and ruffling his hair to check it's intact, but when he turns to me with a glint in his eye, I can't help but forget the insult I was going to make. I'm going to miss this, I realise. I'm going to miss the adrenaline, the confidence, the excitement of being around him. It's never boring.

"Coming, gorgeous?" He calls, strolling ahead.

"Yeah." I quicken my pace to catch up, trying to make sense of my surroundings when they're blurred with darkness. Finally, I realise that we're approaching the bike sheds. The telling triangular rooves rise in the darkness ahead of us like the crest of ships in the mist. When we're fifteen metres or so away, Chase touches my arm, and I stop walking.

"Sit," he commands softly.

"Here?" I ask with confusion, kicking the patch of grass. "What are we doing?"

Swiftly, he twists until his foot connects with the back of my knee. My legs crumple beneath my weight and I fall to the grass with a thud, scowling and rubbing my backside.

"I said sit."

"This is not how you say sorry to someone you know," I call, watching him amble towards the bike sheds with disconcerting grace. He glances back at me, and I can see the glimpse of a smirk in the darkness. Then, suddenly, a warm yellow light erupts in front of him. He's holding a match. In the dancing flame light, he looks strangely beautiful.

"Are you sure?" He asks.

I rub my hands free of dirt on my leggings. "That depends on why we're here."

"You were quite close with the Guy Fawkes idea," he calls back. Then, before I can respond or question further, he's running towards the sheds and under the puddled light of a streetlamp. I lean forward, slipping my phone out of my pocket. There are boxes stacked on the roof of the shed, decorated in patterned, bloody colours. Chase places a foot on the small windowsill, pushing himself up. The match glows in his hands.

Then, I realise.

"Fireworks," I say breathlessly.

The excitement disappears when I realise what I need to do.

Under the light of the streetlamp, his face is unmistakable. Before I can overthink, I lift my phone up and swipe the video record on. I watch, my heart rate accelerating to a deafening frenzy, as the tiny pixelated Chase on my screen bunches the fireworks together. The flash of a match in the dim light, and the fizzing of a rope, burning into cinder.

"I hope you like fireworks!" He calls, climbing down quickly.

I end the video. Then, as quickly as it appeared, I slide my phone back into my pocket. It feels hot and incriminating, burning like a branding iron. I swallow the sour lump of guilt in my throat as Chase jogs towards me. He collapses down beside me in a breathless stupor, and I pray that his adrenaline will distract him from the sickening sounds of my own.

I am a terrible, selfish person. I can never forgive myself.

"Just wait," Chase mumbles, leaning back to rest on his elbows in a lounging position. He watches the sky with childlike eagerness, his teeth bright.

He will never forgive you.

And then the colours appear. I watch his face, transfixed, as spots of colour cascade over his smooth, olive complexion and shoot from his forehead down to his lips. Like somebody up there has broken apart a rainbow and decided to shower him with light.

Around us, the sky explodes into kaleidoscopic shards, but it does not rival how broken I feel. The explosions thunder so hard I can feel them reverberate through the ground into my palms, but they aren't enough to drown out my hammering heartbeat.

I look away from Chase, blinking back tears with a colourful beauty I don't deserve.

He did this for me. He set up a firework display for me.

"Gorgeous," I hear him mumble. A cold finger touches the top of my hand, and I finally dare to look back at him. His eyebrows are furrowed into a faint frown, and it almost triggers more tears. My teeth are digging into my lip hard enough to hurt, hard enough to bleed, but it's the only thing holding back the floodgates.

"Now, now," I say weakly, moving my hand away. "No funny business."

"Erika. I really am sorry for leaving you alone in that place."

"I forgave you long before the fireworks," I reply softly. The murmur is quiet enough that he probably can't hear. I turn back to the explosions of luminescence in the sky. In every deafening crack, where it seems as though the heavens themselves are fighting an attack, colour rains down. Sparks dance in the air.

From the devastation, the anger, the pain; something beautiful is born.

I slip my phone out from my pocket, slide it unlocked. My finger lingers over the red delete button. Behind me, Chase drops from his elbows and lies fully in the grass.

I hear him ask. "Are you cold, gorgeous?"

And that's it.

Enough to break my resolve. Enough to finish this, forever. Any resolve I had about trying to kick this idiotic, arrogant, reckless, smart, brilliant, gorgeous wonder of a boy out of school explodes like a firework into vibrant rain. My thumb presses down on the button with startling ferocity, and the video disappears. The evidence disappears.

And for the first time since the fireworks started, I smile.

Ayy things are spicing up, are they not? ;)

THOROUGHLY recommend listening to 'My songs know what you did in the dark' by Fall Out Boy after reading this chapter. Put it on full volume, and close your eyes, you can literally feEL Chase and Erika (I know I know I'm dramatic)

Next update is going to be in two weeks time, because I am going to France! I hope this one was a nice one to leave you with in the meantime though <3

See you later alligators,

Lauren x