Chasing Daniel Read online

  CHASING DANIEL

  NIA ARTHURS

  First published in Belize, C.A. 2018

  Copyright © Nia Arthurs

  Cover Design: Oliviaprodesign

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, without the prior written permission of the publisher, nor be circulated in any writing of any publisher, nor be otherwise circulated in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published without a similar condition including this condition, being imposed on the subsequent purchaser.

  Get Another Sweet Love Story Free!

  Hello there! As a special thank you for buying this e-book, I want to send you another one completely free of charge! You can get it by clicking below.

  Direct Link: Click Me!

  When you subscribe, I’ll also send you updates when new books like this are available. Happy Reading!

  CONTENTS

  1. Gwen

  2. Danny

  3. Gwen

  4. Danny

  5. Gwen

  6. Danny

  7. Gwen

  8. Danny

  9. Gwen

  10. Danny

  11. Gwen

  12. Danny

  13. Gwen

  14. Danny

  15. Gwen

  16. Danny

  17. Gwen

  18. Danny

  19. Gwen

  20. Danny

  21. Gwen

  22. Danny

  23. Gwen

  24. Danny

  25. Gwen

  26. Danny

  Epilogue

  A Word From The Author

  Other Books by this Author

  Sneak Peek

  Prologue

  Theo

  Sunni

  1 Gwen

  “Hottie Alert. Three o’clock.” Winnie slaps my arm. Hard. A few more solid karate chops, and the whole thing will just fall right off.

  I’d call my best friend out on the violence if I wasn’t so fascinated by my arm flab blubbering up and down like a belly-dancing whale.

  Geez. I need to get to the gym more.

  “Holy crap.” Britney digs her long, manicured fingernails into the cushioned back of her bar stool. “Gwen, tell me you see him too.”

  “Who?” I scan the crowded club for the Adonis my friends are gushing about. It’s hard to see anyone in the darkness. Strobe lights shoot straight across the room. Sweaty, grinding bodies pack the dance floor. Dancehall music shatters my eardrums.

  “He’s right there!” Winnie raises her palms. Afraid she’ll hit me again I dive backward, waving my arms and slow-moing, The Matrix style. She stares at me like I’m crazy and points toward the entrance.

  “What are you doing?” Britney asks. A perfectly plucked eyebrow jumps to the top of her forehead. “Gwen, are you drunk?”

  “How can she be drunk and all she’s had to drink tonight is root beer?” Winnie raises my glass.

  I sit up and adjust the sleeve of my tight black dress. “My bad.” My neck bends awkwardly as I twist myself into a pretzel to catch a glimpse of Winnie and Britney’s Prince Charming. “Where’s the Hottie now?”

  “He’s gone.” Winnie flattens her plump brown lips. Disappointment zips from her hooded eyes. “You missed him.”

  “It’s not like he’s Michael Jackson back from the dead, right? I’m sure it wasn’t that big a deal.”

  “You would know if you looked when we told you,” Britney says.

  “O…kay.” I rub the back of my neck, struggling to understand why they both look so grim. You’d think I ran over Britney’s limited edition Gucci purse the way they’re scrunching their noses and flapping their thick, fake eyelashes.

  “You know… you’ve changed, Gwen.” Winnie raises her nose. Her voice inches higher in pitch so she sounds squeakier than usual. “I remember you being more fun before you left last year.”

  “Me too.” Literal tears fill Britney’s eyes. “What happened to you?”

  “Nothing.” I squirm because the last thing I want to discuss in a crowded club where we have to scream to be heard is the devastation I witnessed in Haiti. I doubt my friends are that interested anyway.

  “Whatever.” Winnie takes a sip of her drink. I can tell she’s angry, but it’s not my fault. I told her I wasn’t in the mood to go clubbing tonight and she pouted and argued until she got her way.

  Britney glances between the two of us and breaks out into an uncomfortable smile. “Guys, this is my favorite song. Let’s go dance.”

  “Sure.” Winnie slips off the high chair like a mermaid diving flawlessly into the sea. They both spin and stare expectantly at me when I don’t move.

  I raise my mug. “Give me a minute to finish this.”

  Britney nods and leads Winnie away. They disappear into the dance floor. The moment they’re gone, I wilt.

  What is wrong with me?

  Why isn’t the club fun anymore?

  Returning to Belize was supposed to erase everything that happened in Haiti. Instead, I’m more unsettled than ever. I was determined to hide the cracks, but at this rate the entire nation will know I’m a total mess inside.

  I’m about to slam my forehead on the counter when a hand slips under my head. It’s warm. And huge.

  I scramble away, almost tipping my chair over. The legs teeter off balance. My hands flail in the air. A scream tears from my throat, but the music’s so loud it doesn’t make an impact.

  “Whoa,” a male voice says. The stranger hooks one arm around my waist to keep me from sliding off and grabs the back of my chair, setting it on the ground.

  The moment I’m steady, I smack his muscled arm away. This creep is about to be torn up. How dare he put his hands on me without consent?

  I spin and open my mouth to tell him off when I fall into a pair of intense, almond-shaped eyes.

  All the anger seeps out in one push. My jaw drops. “Danny?”

  Daniel Kwan leans into my personal space, bridging the three inches I’m trying to maintain for my own self-preservation.

  He’s my brother’s best friend. A total no-go-zone.

  I have no interest in him.

  Someone please tell that to my spazzing ovaries.

  “When did you get back?” Danny asks, shouting in my ear to be heard above the music. “Aiden said you weren’t due for another few months.”

  Danny was asking my brother about me? I try to wipe the desperate, groupie girl smile that threatens to split my face in half. “I came home early.”

  Danny nods and I combust into a vacuous mist of awe.

  Chiseled cheekbones? Check.

  Abs more glorious than a Hemsworth? Check.

  Piercing, soul-searing eyes? Double check.

  “What are you drinking?” he asks, taking the seat next to me. His knee brushes mine. Awareness skitters up my legs and sends electricity straight to my heart.

  I wince at my mug. “Root beer.”

  He gets the bartender’s attention. The woman, who took three full minutes to hear Winnie and Brit calling earlier, sprints to our side of the counter.

  She’s a beautiful Hispanic girl with thick black hair and enough eyeliner over her eyes to make a rock band jealous. Her low-cut shirt exposes deep cleavage, and a gold cross chain is nestled right in the slit. Something about that picture seems sacrilegious.

  “I’ll have what she’s having,” Danny says.

  The bartender offers a crooked smile. “That’s root beer,” she replies snarkily as if my drink is on the lowest rung of the beverage hierarchy.

  For her information, tons of people love root beer.

  “I know.” Danny’s expression remains the same.


  “Sure…” The woman gives me a dirty look like I am personally responsible for Danny’s disinterest. “Coming right up.”

  I beam in response.

  Since I can remember, Danny’s been kind to me. I was that weird, loner kid who didn’t have any male friends in primary school or high school. Boys just… freaked me out. But not Danny. He has this way of making me feel important. It’s effortless.

  And confusing.

  There’s no way he’s interested in me, but sometimes... sometimes he gets this look in his eyes that makes me wonder if I have a chance with him.

  More than likely, I’m wrong and my untapped yearning is messing with my head.

  The bartender returns with Danny’s drink and gives him a lingering look. One he ignores. He’s still staring at me. I duck my head as his nearness makes it hard for me to think. My fingers tremble when I bring the mug to my lips.

  “Something’s different about you,” Danny says.

  I nearly choke on my root beer. “Something like what?”

  “Don’t know.” He leans closer. He smells like heaven. “You tell me.”

  “How about you guess?”

  He laughs. “I don’t remember you being this cheeky before.”

  “People change.” I glance over his shoulder at the tall tables behind the dance floor. “Is Aiden here?”

  “Nah. Your brother’s with his girlfriend. I haven’t seen him for a week.”

  “Don’t you guys share a house?”

  Danny shrugs. “Looks like he traded me in for Melissa.”

  “His loss,” I mumble. And then I realize what I’ve said and heat flushes my cheek. There’s no taking that back.

  Danny laughs again. His eyes have this way of lighting up when he’s happy. If we were standing in the sun, I’d see pale brown flecks springing to the surface of his irises. Since we’re in a shadowy nightclub, I’ll just have to imagine them there.

  “Hey, Gwen!” Winnie’s voice shatters the little love bubble I’m in. My friends sidle up to the bar, squeezing close to my shoulder. The sweat from Britney’s arm smears all over mine. I tamp down the urge to push her away.

  No! I don’t wanna share.

  “Who’s this?” Britney’s voice is a raspy monstrosity that’s part Darth Vader and part Scarlet Johansen. It sounds ridiculous, but I know better than to laugh.

  “He’s my brother’s—I mean… he’s an old… he’s Danny,” I finish lamely.

  An amused smile grows on Danny’s face as he acknowledges both my friends with a chin-up gesture. “Ladies.”

  Winnie swoons. “Do you go to Balen University too?”

  “I recently graduated from the University of the West Indies. Jamaican campus.”

  “That’s so cool,” Winnie says like Danny just admitted to attending a university in Narnia. “I love Jamaica.”

  “Nice to know.” Danny straightens to his full height, towering over both Winnie and Britney who are tottering around on six-inch heels. He glances behind him. “I should get back before my cousin thinks I ditched his bachelor party. I’ll see you around, Gwen.”

  “Yeah.” I wiggle my fingers, straining to hide the breathlessness in my voice.

  Winnie and Britney stare a hole into Danny’s back as he slips behind the dance floor and strides out of sight. Winnie’s arm slams into mine again. This time I’m not prepared for it, and she almost knocks me off my seat.

  “Gwen,” Winnie hisses, “I had no idea you were friends with Mr. Hottie.”

  “We’re not friends, per say. He’s close with my brother.”

  Britney climbs into the chair and fans her face. She’s got short black hair, and it swishes as she turns her head from side to side. “I didn’t know Asian guys had so much swag.”

  It’s not like she’s wrong. Danny used to get bullied when he was younger. People made fun of him for his ethnicity and his accent. When he grew up, Danny said ‘screw it’ and lived life without caring what anyone else thought of him.

  It shows.

  And it’s hot.

  “Dude,” Winnie runs her fingers through her long, curly weave, “is he into black girls?”

  “That would be epic,” Britney says, pouting slightly. “Interracial relationships are such a trend right now.”

  I frown. Danny’s more than just his race or his swagger, but if I defend him my feelings will be glaringly clear, so I keep quiet.

  “Why didn’t he ask us to join him and his friends?” Britney whines.

  Winnie’s eyes gleam. I’m pretty sure she’s just thought of a terrible idea. Winnie confirms my suspicions when she says, “Why don’t we invite ourselves?”

  “What? No way.”

  “Come on.” Winnie tugs my arm until I’m out of my chair. Britney takes my other hand and together they drag me across the floor. The music is cranked up to ten. The DJ switched to a grating EDM selection that makes me feel like I’m in a torture chamber.

  It’s easy to spot Danny and his friends in the crowded building. They’re the only group of Asian men around. Belize is a multi-ethnic, boiling pot of cultures, but our Asian population is definitely the minority.

  Winnie releases my hand and marches right up to Danny’s table.

  She’s lost her mind.

  I shake my arm to get Britney off so I can zip back to the comfort of the bar, but she holds me down like a pro wrestler.

  Winnie heads straight to Danny and whispers something in his ear. A prickly sensation flows through me when he smiles at her.

  It’s not jealousy. I am above such base emotions.

  Danny pulls out a chair and lifts his head. Our gazes collide. Butterflies take off in my stomach, wreaking havoc on my nerves. The other guys at the table wave us over, but the only one I see is Danny.

  My body floats toward him, pulled by a potent force.

  This is Daniel freaking Kwan. No matter what happens tonight, I’ve got to be cool.

  He’s my brother’s best friend.

  That boy is off limits.

  2 Danny

  “Here, pretty lady. Sit next to me.”

  I shoot my cousin a hard stare. Richie pretends he doesn’t see and drags out a chair for Gwen. We’re stuffed around the table, the seats pulled close so everyone can fit. Gwen is sitting across from me, pressed against the groom-to-be.

  It’s annoying.

  “Give her some room, man.” There’s an edge in my voice. One my cousin’s too drunk to heed.

  Richie laughs. His cheeks boast two pink circles. He drapes his arm over the back of Gwen’s chair. “Chillax, Danny.”

  “Pretty sure that’s not a word.”

  “What are you?” Richie hiccups. “The Word Police?”

  I don’t bother responding. He’s so far gone, anything I say will fly right over his head.

  “It’s fine,” Gwen says. Her voice is soft, but I can hear her over the music because I’m in tune to everything Gwen Ferguson does.

  I call it the Bro Transference—an inescapable reaction to spending so much time with Aiden and his family. Gwen’s like my own little sister.

  I want to protect her.

  Even when she’s not in danger.

  As conversation flows around the table, I keep an eye on Gwen in case Richie does something stupid.

  My cousin is drunk. He’s also dreading the marriage his parents arranged. Tonight, we’re supposed to congratulate him as he prepares to bear a commitment he didn’t ask for.

  I feel for Richie, but if he tries anything with Gwen he’ll be walking down the aisle with a black eye.

  “Hey, it’s Danny, right?” Long, brown fingers slide over my wrist. Gwen’s friend—I forgot her name—caresses my arm. She’s got glossy, dark chocolate skin and curly black hair. Brown eyes glimmer with interest and fix on my lips.

  I read her like a neon sign. She’s the type of girl I could take back to the house, use for one night and never call again. It turns me off. I’ve always preferred a challenge. My gaze returns to Gw
en.

  She’s the best-looking girl in the bar. Hands down.

  My eyes were drawn to her the moment I walked in tonight. Gwen stood out in a tight black dress that hugged every curve and a see-through black top that hinted at more. Her long hair spiraled down in a high ponytail.

  Every guy in the vicinity was stealing looks at her and the moment her friends left her alone, tension thickened the air. It was a race I knew I couldn’t lose. And I didn’t.

  “It’s so big,” Gwen’s friend says.

  My body stiffens. “What?”

  My neighbor gapes at my biceps like she’s never seen an arm before. “Do you work out?”

  I spare her a quick glance. “Yeah.”

  Richie lets out a boisterous cackle that draws the attention of the table. He wipes away a tear. “Sorry. Ignore us.”

  Ignore who?

  My eyes snap to Gwen. Her shy smile sends all kinds of alarm signals clanging through my head. Her lips, full and glossy, turn down when she sees me staring. I continue to glower. She looks away.

  The annoying friend digs her fingernails into my shoulder. “Wanna dance?”

  “No.”

  Richie is whispering something to Gwen, something that makes her giggle. She knows he’s engaged, right? I told her this was my cousin’s bachelor party.

  “Why not?” Annoying Friend bounces in her seat.

  I’m afraid her breasts will fall out of her strapless dress if she moves too much so I try to calm her down. “I’m a horrible dancer.”

  That’s the truth. My mother used to do ballroom, but I inherited my dad’s two left feet.

  Richie peers at me and says something to Gwen. They both burst out laughing. I struggle to remain seated when everything in me demands I barge over there and break them up.

  Annoying Friend leans over and whispers, “I can ask the DJ to play some K-pop.”

  I scoff and swig my root beer, wishing I had something stronger. This isn’t the first time someone’s assumed I should know or dance to K-pop.

  First, I’m Chinese. Not Korean.

  And when did the Asian stereotypes change? In high school, Asians were just nerds. Now they expect us to sing and dance too?