A/N: Hurray! A new chapter. Last week was like the week of no sleep for me and this one is midterms, so we're all luckly i got this chapter done... But I did it for you guys, all my fantasitic reviewers :o) I love you all! Keep reviewing - Sorry, not much Christian in this chapter but the next one should be mostly Christian/Becka. What fun!

Chapter 23

Chaos Reigns

I'm the first one up in the morning. I finally fell asleep some time around 3 a.m., but even then it was a really restless sleep and I woke up at least every hour. Around 6:30 I finally gave up and got up, got showered, and headed to the kitchen to rummage through around for coffee. I definitely needed it.

At 7:15, as my luck would have it, Elton joins me. "Since when were you an early riser?" he grunts as he shuffles into the kitchen.

I watch him placidly. It would be nice if Elton and I could call a truce for the weekend. Or at least for the day. Because I'm running on about three hours of sleep here, and I've got limited energy.

"Since when were you?" I counter, keeping my tone of voice as light as possible under the current circumstances.

(Which basically are my limited sleep. And I haven't finished my coffee. And what am I going to do for the next three nights? I need more sleep than this. Maybe Christian will switch places with Chase. But how am I going to orchestrate that? And why does everything have to turn out so not the way I'd planed it?)

Elton, who's back was to me until now, turns around and just stares at me for a couple of minutes. Then he says matter-of-factly, "You look terrible."

Obviously a truce is out of the question. But seriously, how does he expect me to look after the night I've had?

"Coffee?" I offer, holding my mug up towards him.

"No thanks," Elton griminces. "I'm going to the shower." He shuffles back out of the room. I'm happy to be alone again.

I call Jeremy, but of course at 7:30 on Thanksgiving he isn't up yet and doesn't have his phone on. I don't leave a voice mail. In another five minutes West comes down to the kitchen. He doesn't notice me at the table, and begins digging through the cabinets. I find I'm glad that West is the next person up. Because at least it isn't Christian.

"I already found your coffee," I say, letting West know of my presence.

He pulls a box of Cinnamon Toast Crunch out of a cabinet and turns around to look at me. "Whoa, Becka. What, did you sleep for two hours?" he asks. But unlike Elton's you-look-terrible, the question is infused with concern.

"Three, actually," I correct, as he gets milk out from his refrigerator, two bowls, and two spoons. Then he walks over to the table and sits down beside me. He fills the first bowl with milk and cereal and slides it to me.

"So you're worrying about Chase and Christian and how all those dynamics are going to work out?" West asks.

I shrug. Not exactly, but let him think that.

"Well don't worry about it," West continues. "Because Christian is totally cool with you and Chase now."

Ugg. I think I'm going to throw up the cereal I just swallowed.

"He is?" I ask miserably.

West mistakes my misery for surprise and says, "Well, yeah. I know he's been pretty bi-polar about the whole thing, but I think he's finally resigned himself to the idea of you liking someone better than him."

West laughs like that's funny. I laugh like that's funny.

It's not funny.

In the midst of all this laughing, a familiar voice says from the doorway, "Hey, we found the party." Speaking of the devil. I turn to find Christian himself walking into the kitchen, with Jen at his side.

"Hello, love," Christian says to me, stepping behind me and rubbing my shoulders.

"Christian," I say dryly. "I am not your love." Believe me. Nobody is more aware of that than I am right now.

"Right," Christian agrees with exaggerated sadness. "You're Chases love." He perks back up again, and continues, "Which is why I have to find a new love." He walks back over to Jen and slings an arm around her shoulder. "Jen is my new love," Christian announces. Jen rolls her eyes at me, but is obviously enjoying the attention. West sends me this smile like he thinks all my problems have just been solved. Little does he know. I generously decide to leave him in his blissful ignorance.

Of course, this whole conversation has been in jest, and Christian's antics have been only for effect. Maybe I'm taking things too seriously. Maybe Christian isn't as resigned as he seems to be.

Or maybe he is.

Or maybe I shouldn't care.

Sophie Walker is the next to join us, which means that Chase is downstairs now by himself. I've begun to feel a bit claustrophobic in the kitchen—you know, the close proximity with Christian and all—so I slip quietly out of the room. I think only Sophie notices me leave.

Chase is just waking up when I step down the stairs. I cross the room and sit down on the bed Christian and I shared last night. I pull my knees to my chest and wrap my arms around them. Chase rolls over on his side to see who's come back into the room.

"Becka?" he says groggily.

"'Morning," I smile. As much as I was worried about it before, right now really I'm glad Chase came along. He's a safe zone. I know how things stand with us.

Chase groans and sits up. "Is everyone else up already?"

"No," I answer. My eyes wander around the room. The place is pretty messy after we all crashed last night. I'm in the mood to do a good deed. "Let's clean up down here," I say, looking back at Chase.

Although I'm sure that cleaning up West's basement isn't high on Chase's priority list first thing in the morning, he knows how to choose his battles. So he shrugs and says, "Okay."

We get to work, making small talk and joking around while we clean. The Chase casually interjects into the conversation, "So. Did you sleep well last night?"

Fortunately my back is to him when he asks that, so he can't see the way my face contorts. As innocent as the question may seem, when it's coming from Chase I'm sure it's loaded with ulterior motive. He's probing me for information. At first I consider lying to him. But since he'd probably see through a lie, I decide not to go with the truth.

"No," I say blankly, my back still to him.

"Can I guess why?" he asks.

Arrogant bastard. "No," I repeat, trying for the same blank intonation as before, but my 'no' comes out a little firmer this time.

"You know," Chase begins and pauses, as if he's formulating what he's about to say. "I think a lot more people would see through you if they didn't think you were with me."

He says that's like he's trying to justify himself, like he's trying to convince himself that he's been doing me a favor and not just screwing me up with Christian. On one hand, that is so not a good justification. But on the other, maybe I do have something to thank him for. Maybe I would've never realized that Christian was the one I really wanted if it wasn't for Chase.

Wait—am I even ready to admit that I want Christian yet? I don't know.

Well, I'm not really to admit it to Chase. I turn around to face him and answer, "I don't know what you're taking about. There's nothing to see through."

I must have managed to say that convincingly enough. Chase just stares at me, opens his mouth and closes it. Opens his mouth again. But when he does, Taylor bounds down the stars and interrupts him.

"Hey you two," she begins. Then she notices the state of the room and says, "Wow." To me: "Christian said you snuck down here to visit your lover, but I didn't think that meant you guys were cleaning." She laughs. Apparently more people than just Sophie Walker noticed me slip downstairs. Then Taylor says to Chase, "Go take a shower, Chase. You're the last one who needs to."

I'm still wondering if Christian actually referred to Chase as my lover, or if Taylor added that particularly descriptive noun.

Chase grumbles a little about taking his own sweet time, but then he heads upstairs. Once he's gone, Taylor asks me, "How you doing, girl? West says you're all stressed out."

"I'm fine," I lie. But again, it's a good lie. At least Taylor seems to be reasonably convinced that I'm okay.

"Good," she says. "'Cause I've got a feeling chaos is going to reign today, and I'll be needing back up in the kitchen. Even if you can't cook, you can still keep order."

"I'm good back up," I offer.

"You're good back up, West's good back up, Christian's good back up, but I'm not so sure about the rest of this crew," Taylor says, half joking and half serious. I'm wouldn't be too sure about this crew myself. Even Jen is letting me down, not doing her assigned job of keeping Chase occupied for the weekend.

"Come on, girl," Taylor laughs, linking arms with me and walking me back up the stairs. "Let's go put on a good show."

Well put. That is precisely what I intend to do.

Chaos does reign. In the afternoon the men begin watching football, and the girls troop into the kitchen to help Mrs. Anderson cook. Christian tags along, insisting that he is really quite useful in the kitchen. But after fifteen minutes of adorable banter with Jen (which I find really quite sickening) he leaves us for the living room.

Amy is also convinced that she's remarkably apt when it comes to cooking. "I wouldn't say myself that I have any talent for it," she says. "I only know that my friends tell me all the time how good of a chief I am."

I restrain my gag reflex and settle for exchanging sarcastic glances with Taylor.

Natalie Banks talks for ten minutes straight while we're getting set up. The remarkable thing about Natalie Banks talking is that she manages to talk about absolutely nothing and to repeat that nothing over and over again. Today she keeps saying how nice it was of me and Christian to invite her. I'm beginning to regret that charity.

Eventually, Sophie and Taylor manage to get rid of Natalie, sending her out to watch football with the guys. Despite her insufferable boastfulness, Amy does prove to be useful, as do Jen and Sophie. The three of them, along with Taylor and Mrs. Anderson, seem to have everything under control. Now I can make pancakes, but that's about the extent of my cooking abilities. Still, I want to help. I ask Taylor what I can do.

"Umm," she says, looking around the busy kitchen. She looks back at me and shrugs. "We don't really need you, Becka. Go have fun."

Feeling rather useless and dejected, I wander out to the living room. I hang around the back of the room until Chase notices me. He pats the spot on the couch beside him and says, "Come sit, babe."

Lately Chase has taken to calling me babe. I found it quite humorous, under the circumstances. But just now I find it extremely annoying. As soon as he says that my eyes shoot directly to Christian, but Christian's eyes are plastered on the TV screen. So I make my way lethargically over to Chase. Once I'm sitting down he whispers, referring to my panicked glance toward Christian, "Easy girl." He looks smug. I ignore all this and ask, "Who's wining?"

"Who cares?" Elton answers.

I don't know. Not me.

After staring at the screen for twenty minutes in a desperate attempt to feign interest and to keep myself from staring at Christian instead, I wander back to the kitchen and beg Taylor to give me something to do. She generously allows me to mash the potatoes.

At six o'clock we are all sitting around the Anderson's big table, holding hands and saying grace. Everything is here—the turkey, the stuffing, the cranberry sauce. Everything Thanksgiving is here.

Chase is sitting on my left, and ironically, Elton is on my right. Christian is halfway across the table. With this group, I doubt he's in shouting distance.

I can't help but open my eyes and look around at everyone while we pray. I don't mean to be sacrilegious, but it's nice to see everyone quiet for once. Christian opens his eyes just when I'm looking at him, shakes his head and then winks at me. I close my eyes quickly, very tight, and then open one to peer across the table at him again. He's still watching me. A grin spreads across his and then he gives me a reprimanding look as if to say, "Be a good girl and close your eyes." I find myself smiling, though I'm strangely saddened by this interaction. I close my eyes and don't open them until Mr. Anderson says Amen.

Well. The prayer is finished now. The food is in front of me. Thanksgiving dinner has officially commenced.

Funny thing though:

I don't know what I'm thankful for.