Chasing Beautiful (Chasing Series #1)

I felt someone’s pres
ence before I was fully awake. When I managed to slightly part my eyes, I cursed inwardly from the brightness of the sunshine.

Great
, I forgot to close the blinds again last night.

Willing
my sleepy eyes to open a little wider this time, I was stunned to find Blake sitting on my couch, right across from me, wearing a dark scowl.

Why
, oh why! Did I give him a spare key, again? Ah, yes! So, that he could have a place to go to if he was feeling out of sorts. What a genius idea that was!

I rubbed
my eyes and yawned loudly, obviously still jetlagged. When I finally glanced at his quiet form, he was still wearing a deep scowl on his face, and still not voicing a word.

Okay
…

“
Good morning to you too,” I said with a sleepy voice that dripped with sarcasm.

What’s with the attitude?
I thought.

“
What the bloody hell were you thinking, Sienna
?!” Blake’s voice was grating and condescending, his beautiful expressive eyes—midnight blue rimmed with grey and flecks of gold in the middle—flashed with suppressed anger, stormy and formidable.

“Excuse me? What
in the world are you yapping about, Blake?” His tone took me aback, I definitely wasn’t expecting it. Was he drunk, high or something? He didn’t look it. “Care to
enlighten
me?” I asked, exasperated and annoyed.

I
felt like someone ran me over; I probably looked it too.
I’d give anything for coffee right now
, I sighed at the thought.

What kind of mess was I in? I didn’t recall stepping on anyone’s toes before I left London to go home,
I think
.  I just landed yesterday, jet-lagged and a little drained from my conversation with Luce before she left for Turkey with Toby
.

And now this
…

Blake
had barged in here like he owned the place with a demanding and taxing demeanor.

Wait,
hold on. How did he know I arrived already?
Ah, Lucy Connelly probably did the courtesy.

She’s m
y friend, my flatmate, and dating Toby Watson—Blake’s best friend since childhood. I met Lucy at a college party. She was sweet and genuine and we hit it right off. She casually mentioned that the woman who she shared an apartment with, left for New York to follow her boyfriend. So I immediately inquired about the vacant room.

I was living in student housing then, but needed
my own place—away from catfights, drunken noise and drama. She offered excitedly and wanted me to check it out the next day, I accepted. I moved in two days later. Our friendship blossomed and we became each other’s closest confidant. 

She went to school with Toby and Blake
at the London School of Economics. When she started dating Toby, two weeks after I moved in, I became friends with the two men—more so with Blake. We just clicked.

That was a little over eight months ago.

“I ran into Lucy last night in Toby’s flat, and she casually mentioned that you
came
back last night, without telling anyone, might I add. So, OBVIOUSLY, I wanted to visit you—but she stopped me, revealed that you were in a delicate state. So, of course, my curiosity was piqued. I badgered her until she told me what she knew—and learned about your ‘
little interlude
’ with Kyle—
while his girlfriend was in the premise
—the intention of ‘closure’, indeed, was lost on you.” Blake’s furious expression deepened when he said ‘little incident.’
Oh, shit.

I blushed.

Shit-fuck-shit.

He probably thinks I’m a hussy now, giving in to Kyle’s advances.

I glanced away from him quickly. Is he ticked off that I haven’t called him about what happened and instead, learned it from Lucy? He even managed to sound—hurt?

I’m sort of in a tricky situation
; Kyle cheated on his girlfriend—with me. When I told Luce, she was shocked and felt wretched for me. So, it’s no surprise really, that Blake was angry.

“Yeah, about that…
it was merely a moment of madness—I’m shattered about it. I mean, who wouldn’t be in my situation? My emotions got the best of me….” I said lamely. Or maybe I was just plain horny and had made a beeline for it!

I wanted to
erase the whole entire visit back home from my lagging memory.

“How
could you
put yourself in that position? I didn’t understand the bloody need to go and get ‘closure’—
he
already started seeing someone else—before he called to break it off with you.
Have you forgotten about that?
He’s a cheater! But still, you went prancing back to Los Angeles. And to make matters worse, he took advantage of that. You were intoxicated and placed yourself in
danger
!” His scowl deepened. “You could’ve been hurt, Sienna.”

I was, not
in the way he was implying, but my heart and pride were crushed. “Good God. I was in no way or shape in any danger. How you exaggerate and blow things out of proportion! R
eally now
, Blake…it’s Kyle we’re talking about here. He would never hurt me, not like that.” I fidgeted with my lemon chiffon-colored, six hundred count sheets with my fingers, trying to gather ground.

Was it really pathetic to look for closure? No, but if the guy in question cheated—surely closure is out of the question?
My thoughts queried.

Blake
sighed deeply. He got up from the couch and stood in front of me, holding out his hand. His frame dominated the room. It’s a pretty decent size, but put Blake’s presence anywhere and the result would be the same, size be damned. He has that pulling power around him and his dark good looks just enhance it.

He was d
ressed in nude chino shorts, a blue dress shirt pushed back to his elbows and tan soft-leather loafers. He looked like he had just stepped out of a Dolce & Gabbana summer photo shoot.

Sometimes I wish he was average lookin
g, then it would be easier to look at him without melting.

A few strands of his wavy locks fell onto his forehead
. Looking down on me, his beautiful face was complacent. “I made the courtesy of brewing some coffee. Come, you look like you need some.”
Oh, don’t I just.

I took his outstretched
hand and he pulled me out of bed. “I was worried, Sienna. I care for your well being. Don’t be cross.” I looked down, not meeting his gaze.

Th
e man towered over my five foot two stature. Blake inhaled deeply, smelling my forehead before kissing it. Then he grabbed my hand and we walked towards the kitchen where the smell of freshly brewed coffee emanated, drawing me closer.

He didn’t utter a word until I had my first sip
of caffeine. “How are you really feeling? Okay? Not okay?” Blake was studying my reaction, pensive.

“Yes
—no—
I don’t know?
Can one ever be okay after a broken heart?” I shrugged. “I’m sure I’ll move on, but I doubt I’ll put my heart out there like that—it’s traumatizing enough. Being vulnerable is something I don’t take lightly—with my background and all.” I sipped my scalding coffee without batting an eyelash.

It’s true
; vulnerability reminds me of my demoralizing childhood and Hell would freeze over before I let myself in that compromising position again.

Blake
’s handsome head nodded in agreement, with evident understanding. He had an idea of my rotten years of misery, but never really pushed me to talk about it. I appreciated it and respected him for it.

Both of our parents died when we were young
and it’s something we have in common. It gives us a platform of understanding—that we don’t have to explain, but we simply understand the pain—the loss—the daunting uncertainty of loneliness and the frightening feeling of what looms on the horizon.

Blake and I immediately
became close after Lucy started dated Toby. We liked the same books, shows, board games—amongst other things. We hit it right off the bat and hang out once a week or so—when he’s not busy with his women, and there’d been a lot.

In the beginning,
both Luce and Toby thought we would start dating too, but after a few months of insinuating, they finally let-up—accepting the fact that we clearly
are
just friends, platonic friends. I must admit that—at times—my mind drifts off and I imagine—envisage what it would be like to date someone like Blake. Six foot three, all muscles and the most arresting face—full lips, straight nose, chiseled jaw—his unique eyes hypnotizing.

Sometimes I get caught staring into those eyes and forget where I
am. Blake is the sexiest man—sinful and beautiful—my eyes have ever graced. I always snap myself back to reality when I remind myself that he’s a good friend and he dates tall, beautiful, leggy, statuesque women—preferably lingerie models. My Coca-Cola-bottle-shaped form did not stand a chance.

Sure, most red-blooded male
s find me desirable and gorgeous, but
with
Blake, I simply felt Plain Jane.

“…so
it should be okay, right?” I wasn’t paying attention to what he was saying and my dumbfounded look seemed to annoy him.

Glaring at me and combing his hair with his right hand
, he looked frustrated. Something was bugging him.

“Sienna
… I was asking you if you wanted to eat breakfast.”

“You haven’t had breakfast yet? How come? You never leave anywhere
without eating first thing in the morning…” I trailed off. “Hold on, how long have you been here, sitting and scowling at me like a bear with a sore head?!” My accusing green/gold eyes to his midnight silver blue.

“Awhile…”

I glared at him some more, not budging.

“Okay—okay—I think
…quite possibly around four in the morning, I suppose?” he looked sheepish admitting this and he started to run his fingers through his dark locks, again. This habit comes out when he’s anxious. He doesn’t know that I know this, but I’ve noticed it enough. I notice everything about him.