A/N: GAAAAAAAAAAAH! This chapter drove me crazy! And I still don't like it. Sorry if it sucks too much, though I think I worked the majority of the suck-y-ness out of it. It still sucks some, though. I just couldn't keep re-writing anymore. I want to get on with it. At least it's a little bit longer than usual.
Hurray, the Eagles are 4-0 (football, baby). Just thought I'd add that it there. I'm excited. Superbowl this year. That's right.
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My interest in Sophie Walker's piano wanes by the end of the play, so I don't try extra hard to drag Taylor's theory out of her. She wants to tell me anyway, and she'll find an opportunity. Instead, I'm sticking close to Chase as the seven of us try to decide what to do next.
"Me and Jen vote for something not so cultured," says Christian. For a moment I wonder how Jen's doing—yes, I've been neglecting her, and although Christian brought her along I still feel somewhat responsible to keep her having a good time. But one glance at her and Christian and I know they're doing fine. She's all smiles and he's using her head as an armrest. He's good at making people comfortable with him.
"Got any ideas?" I ask him. The first three words either of us said to the other tonight. We're walking back to our cars now, which means we been giving each other the silent treatment for a very long time.
Christian looks directly at me—another first for the evening. "No," he says. "You're our idea person."
"Yeah Becka," Taylor agrees. "Come up with something good."
"We're leaving it all to me, then?" I ask, rubbing my hands together and grinning evilly. Ah, power.
Everyone shrugs or nods, except for Christian who appears to be paying little attention. He's staring into oblivion, his hands shoved deep into his pockets. I watch him for a few short moments and turn away, inwardly shrugging of the impulse to edge over to him and find out what's going on there.
"Follow me and Chase then," I say gleefully, grabbing the boy's hand and dragging him to his car.
"Chase and me!" West shouts after me. Grammar police.
"So what's your grand scheme?" Chase asks as we pull out of the parking lot.
"Don't have one," I admit. "Just drive...that way," I finish, randomly pointing right.
"Where ever you want to go, I'll follow your lead," he answers, turning the car in that direction.
Why is it that I always feel that everything Chase says to me has a double meaning? Maybe I'm just crazy. But seriously: "Wherever you want to go, I'll follow your lead"? Think about that.
We pass a couple of coffee houses and restaurants, but nothing that looks terrible exciting. Then I see a sign that interests me. "Karaoke?" I read loud, as a suggestion. "We can watch really bad people try to sing and quietly mock them."
"Sounds like a good time," says Chase, pulling into the parking lot.
"What is this?" West yells to me, as we're all climbing out of our respective cars.
"Fun!" I answer. "Anyway, to late to get out of it now. The social director has spoken."
"Okay Becka," Taylor says once we're inside. "You've brought his upon us and now you've got to sing something."
"Oh no," I answer. Not that I mind being the center of attention usually. Tonight I'm interested in more specific attention, however. Chase's attentions. That's all.
"Oh yes," says Chase, joining the opposition. I wrinkle my nose at him and ready another protest, but then I have a better idea.
"Okay Buster," I say to Chase. "You we're part of this. You're singing with me." Actually, I don't even know if the guy can stay on key, but I like pairing us off like this again.
"Uh! What do you mean? I had nothing to do with this," Chase replies dramatically. But by now everybody's on my side, all spurring him on. "Come on Chase, you've got to sing with her." Only Christian and Sophie Walker are quiet, though I'm not surprised by the silence on either part. I'm starting to doubt whether Sophie Walker ever talks, and as for Christian, he's been really weird all night. I decide to ignore his lack of enthusiasm.
I'm tugging on Chase's arm, and finally he gives in and lets me drag him to the front of the room. Our whole group (with the possible exception of the two voiceless ones) applauds.
Then Chase and I are looking through the list of songs. "Can you hold a tune?" I ask playfully.
"Can you?" he returns, eyebrows up and smiling.
I pretend to be insulted. "Of course!"
"We'll see," he replies skeptically, still smiling the same teasing smile.
"I guess we will," I shoot back, like I don't believe him either. He just laughs.
I'm starting to see how Chase and I could be a dangerous combination. We've got such similar personalities that we just goad each other on, and there's no one to slow down the movement. I can imagine the trouble the two of us could get ourselves into. He's nothing like Christian—Christian who keeps me sane. It worries me a little, yes. But I mean, that's great in a friend, the balancing each other out, but shouldn't a boyfriend/girlfriend relationship be a little more than that? Something more dynamic maybe? Sparks flying and all that jazz? That's what I think.
We decide to do Brittany Spears, "Hit Me Baby One More Time," because karaoke is all about having fun, and what better to make fun of that that? I start off and Chase takes over the lead somewhere around halfway through the first verse. When he starts singing, I'm struck. This boy can sing. I mean really sing. Like Howie Day, Gavin DeGraw, Damien Rice sing. Oh my gosh. Like, when I think he can't get any sexier. Me, I've got a decent voice myself, but nothing like this. Nothing that would win me American Idol.
I join him on the chorus. We finish up the song, complete with exaggerated gestures and dance moves. The crowd applauds, especially our group in the back, and we bow theatrically. Then Chase grabs my hand and leads me of stage. We were pretty damn good.
When we get back to our group, they're all in a commotion trying to get Sophie Walker to sing, who've they've discovered has something of a voice. She won't, though. Not by herself at least. The girl's too shy, doesn't like the attention. People like this annoy me. They just ought to do what everyone wants them to in the first place and have it over with. All this lingering over the convincing part just makes people pester them more. It's like passive-aggressive attention seeking. At least I seek my attention outright.
"I'll sing with you," Chase says suddenly. Sophie and I both look at him in surprise. Stupid hero. Always doing the chivalrous thing.
"Okay..." she says, a little unsurely, and he leads her away.
I'm seething. I'm jealous. Over a guy. And a guy who doesn't even like the girl I'm jealous of.
Yes, okay. I am going crazy.
They pick a more serious song than Chase and I did—"And I Will Always Love You." Sophie Walker starts it, and damn she can sing too. Now we've got a Jewell in the house. I'm feeling slightly deflated.
Christian's been edging towards me ever since Sophie got up to sing, and suddenly he's throwing himself into the seat beside me. "You look good tonight, Becka," he says. It comes out like a sigh, a concession, a truce. I'm not even sure why Christian and I are on such rocky terms. But he apparently feels there's a need for reconciliation and he's willing to take the first step.
"Thanks," I reply, not sure what else I can say. Of course Sophie Walker is belting out "And I will always love you" (with Chase, I might add), and this is somewhat distracting. Christian notices me wince when she nails a power note and he starts to smile slightly, as if he's trying to hold a laugh inside of him.
"What?" I glower, though I'm almost laughing too. This is what Christian does—he shows me how ridiculous I'm being and makes me laugh about it.
"Nothing!" he says, looking at me like he can't imagine what I think he's thinking. I roll my eyes. "You were good, too." he adds.
"Right," I scoff.
"Definitely more fun, anyway, and that's what it's all about, right?"
"I know," I say, nodding my agreement. He can be really sweet sometimes, Christian can. We chat for the next few minutes, comfortably if somewhat less animatedly than usually. Then Chase and Sophie are done with their song and headed back towards our group. Christian stands up to relinquish his seat to Chase, but before he goes he says to me, "Take care of yourself, Becka."
"Okay," I say, though I'm profoundly confused. I don't know at all what he means by that.
So that's what I think about the rest of the night. I'm thinking about it so much that I miss other important things.
Here's one: when we're walking back out to the cars I'm lagging behind a little. Taylor takes the opportunity, therefore, to interrogate Chase. About me, I think, if I'm judging her body language right. I don't hear much of the conversation. I do hear my name mentioned. And then I hear this from Chase: "Yeah, but her and Christian?" It's definitely a question. Me and Christian. Me and Christian what?
I observe all this, of course, but I don't take it in. Nothing registers, like that Chase might still think Christian and I have something going on. I'm too busy pondering this take-care-of-yourself business. What could he mean?
And then I get it. Christian sees I'm walking away, and he's letting me go.