A/N: I know, I know, that took forever. A million apologies. Fortunately I had to stay home today and clean the house in a last ditch effort to convince my parent that I really do deserve to go to Philly tomorrow with some v. specific and important friends… So I decided I'd finish this chapter in between the kitchen and the bathrooms. Gaaah, I really want to go to Philly…

Review, make me feel better. This was a hard chapter.

I'd do more reviewer responding, but I really need to get back to scrubbing. So just a few quickies:

ohshocking: as a really random thing, I think your penname is cool.

Jill: this chapter is officially for you. Sophie and Chase, here they come… imagining dramatic Western showdown music playing in the backround

Chapter 29
Several Surprises

Taylor calls my cell just as I'm walking out of Creative Writing, and she's sounding anxious. "Where are you?" she asks.

"Just getting out of class."

"Good. You'd better come over to West's."

"Why?" I ask, becoming both curious and worried. "What's wrong? You sound all nervous and panicked and weird and stuff."

"Just come," Taylor says, and that's the end of that conversation. I get over there as quickly as I can.

"So what the deal?" I ask, as I march through West's door. No reason to knock here, especially when these two have called me over here so specifically. The whole way here I've been trying to think of what could possibly be going on. Worst case scenario, they've got me here to tell me Christian is gay. That would seriously suck. For me, I mean. There are probably some very lucky men in the world who would benefit from it.

"Sit down," West says, which is how people always start when they've got really bad news. Oh God. I follow his command and plop down on the chair across from him and Taylor.

"So, uh," West continues. West doesn't stutter like this much, which is also a bad sign. After an awkward pause he says, "So Chase's aunt died."

That's it? I mean, that's sad, but I was expecting something a little closer to home. I probably didn't need to sit down for that one. "What, the inheritance aunt?" I ask.

Taylor nods.

"So I guess that means Chase has got his money."

West nods. These two sure are looking solemn.

"And I guess that means he can marry whoever he wants," I say jokingly, trying to lighten the mood here a little.

West and Taylor exchange a look and then they both focus back on me. "Yeah," West begins carefully. "Well, the thing is… he's already kind of decided who he's going to marry."

Oh my God.

What!

Well I hope Chase Everhart hasn't rented his tux yet because he's going to be taking that thing back. I sure don't remember saying yes.

West is still talking. "He's been secretly engaged. For a long time. To…" He pauses and bites his lip and then he drops the bomb. "Sophie Walker."

I just stare at him for a bit while that sinks in. Oh Lord. Chase and Sophie. Chase and Sophie. Christian saw it. I didn't believe him. But it's true. Chase and Sophie.

Bastard! He kissed me!

And then I'm barreling out the door.

"Wait! Becka, where are you going!" West is running after me.

"Oh you know where I'm going. Me and Everhart need to have a little conversation," slipping into Christian's habit of referring to Chase by his last name.

"Everhart and I," West corrects tiredly. "Don't do anything stupid, Becka."

What? Stupid? Me?

Never.

I don't knock on Chase's door either. Bastards are not entitled to privacy. Oh, and look who's inside sucking his lips off. You guessed it. Sophie Walker.

"Well aren't you two quite the team," I growl, slamming the door behind me. I have to say myself, it's quite an entrance. Chase and Sophie jump away from each other, looking a tad bit startled.

"Becka," Chase says warily.

"Oh don't bother, Chase," I cut in. "I already know. You're engaged, you bastard." I look around for something to throw at him, but there isn't anything nearby, so I have to make do with glaring.

Sophie is also glaring. But surprisingly, not at me. She's been staring at Chase ever since I came in with that quite-the-team line, and by this point she's obviously pretty angry.

"Becka, look, can we talk about this later?" Chase is panicking. Sophie face is hardening into a demon-scowl. And then she explodes.

"You didn't tell her?" she screams at Chase.

And that quickly I find my issues taking a backseat to a much bigger problem. Thus I am referred to throughout the remainder of this conversation as 'her.'

The answer to 'you didn't tell her' is so obviously no, that Chase doesn't even try to talk his way out of that one. Sophie uses this opportunity of rare silence from Chase to attack again.

"You said you told her," she hisses.

"Woa, wait," Chase comes back on the defensive, almost pleading. "I never said I told her. I said I was going to tell her. And I was going to tell. But there never was a right time, and—"

"Never a right time!" I interrupt. Sorry, I know this isn't about me anymore (well it is, but indirectly). But a girl has to have her say now and then. "How about when you had your tongue down my throat, that might have been a good time. Or when—"

"YOU KISSED HER!" Sophie again, louder and angrier. I realize this a good time for me to shut up. In fact, this is probably a good time for me to leave. But for some reason, my legs aren't working. So I'm stuck here, rooted in Chase's doorway, watching the beginnings of World War III.

Chase's face has drained of all color. Obviously he can't just deny the accusation. Not when I, the only witness to his crime, am here.

"Sophie," he rasps. "She was drunk and—"

"You weren't?" Sophie snaps. The mighty Miss Walker is a force to be reckoned with. She's not cutting our boy Chase any slack.

"It was just once," Chase tries.

For the record, it was twice. And the first time both parties were completely sober. But I'm not about to divulge this information, not with the look Chase just shot me.

"I don't care if it was just once," Sophie says. She pauses to look at me and continues. "I don't even believe that it was just once. Look, I'm out." She stands angrily, grabs her purse, and stomps to the door. She opens it, and pauses before slamming it shut to look back at us and offer this parting shot:

"You two deserve each other."

Slam.

Now Chase has the opportunity to direct all of his pent-up anger at me. "Well thank you for that, Becka," he begins, in true bastard form.

"Don't even try to pin this one on me, Everhart," I retort. And I'm out too.

Slam.

I can see why Christian's always referred to the guy as Everhart. He doesn't deserve any first-name-basis relationships.

- - - - - - - -

Several hours later the righteous anger is staring to wear off and the reality of this all is sinking in.

Oh God. What have I done? I think I just broke up an engagement.

Speed dial number 2.

"Hello?"

"Jeremy," I gasp. "You will never believe what I just did."

He sighs through his cell phone. "Actually, by this point, I'll believe anything."

- - - - - - - - -

10:00 that night, I've managed to seize one of the big fluffy chairs at Barns & Noble, where I'm diligently prepping myself for my study session with Luke Emerson tomorrow. Of course this moment of study solitude would not be complete without an interruption from the gruesome twosome. Chase and Sophie, looking nervous, walk over to my fluffy chair section. This is either one very huge coincidence, or they are stalking me.

"Can we, uh, sit here?" Chase asks.

Now this is something. Their relationship is apparently more resilient than I thought. Maybe I should have mentioned the sober kiss. After look at them blankly for several painfully-awkward-for-them moments, I say, "If you're going to keep it quiet," and return to my chem book.

Sophie is whispering something about how she'll be right back to Chase, and leaves him alone with me. I look back up to watch her retreat and then observe, "So I guess you worked things out."

Chase sits down in the seat beside me. "Yes, work is definitely the right word. Thanks for that, Becka."

"You didn't deserve it to be easy," I shrug. Excuse me if I'm fresh out of sympathy. "You're just lucky I wasn't in love with you, you know. You're benefiting from a very fortunate coincidence."

"Oh please. I knew you weren't in love with me," Chase counters, rolling his eyes.

"I was in the beginning."

He shrugs. I have him there.

"You may have very well destroyed my relationship with Christian. I have every right to hate you forever," I continue matter-of-factly.

"But you don't," Chase points out, rather annoyingly.

I narrow my eyes. Then I sigh and give in. No I don't. "Okay, but speaking of Christian, I think I've earned the right to know what he said to you the other day."

"What, by attempting to sabotage my engagement?"

"No, by serving as your decoy for the past three months."

Again, I have him. But Chase looks very loath to tell me about this conversation.

"Why won't you tell me?" I ask, all the more curious.

"Look, let's just say he's going to kill me when he gets back. Unless you do a very good job of convincing him before hand that you're not at all broken hearted or even severely damaged." Chase looks at me hopefully.

Hmmm. Interesting.

"How many favors do I have to do you?" I say, laughing a little.

"I swear," Chase says earnestly, "this is the last one."

Somehow I highly doubt that.