8. Chase
CHASE
Logan isn’t there when I knock on his door the next night after my shift.
I wait there in the hallway of the top floor for a minute, then two, then five, before I finally accept he’s either not there or not answering the door, feeling something slowly fade inside my chest.
I pull a receipt out of my pocket and grab a pen from my bookbag. I scrawl a sketch of a tiny spadroon sword like the one on my upper hip. Next to it, I write a short note:
Have a good night.
Think of me, if you come?
x
-C
I fold it up and stuff it through the tiny crack at the bottom of the door. I head back to my apartment wondering if I crossed some sort of line… or if he crossed a line last night with me and doesn’t want a repeat.
It’s crazy that I want a repeat.
It’s one thing to try things out with a man, but it’s another to think I can waltz up to his door whenever I please. I wasn’t joking with him when I said that I’m too needy sometimes. I was last night, to be sure, but Logan seemed to enjoy it, so I didn’t think an apology was necessary.
But the next night, I go to his door again.
And he doesn’t answer the knock this time, either.
After that, I don’t go back.
I can swallow my pride. If he wants to see me, he knows where to find me at the bar, but he hasn’t come down at all.
Three days later, as I’m walking from home to the Bellwood, I pass by a bus that has a giant print of Logan on its side.
It’s an ad for Yard Line, and Logan is shirtless on the banner, holding a football on his shoulder and staring out at me.
Below it, the text reads:
America’s Heartthrob, Back for Season 2 Next Spring.
I gaze at it for too long before the bus pulls off down the street, disappearing into the river of traffic. I walk the rest of the way to work feeling like I must have stepped into a dream with him.
An hour later, Julian and I are behind the bar working when he snaps his fingers, reaching into his wallet for something.
“I forgot to tell you,” Julian says. “Scotch Guy told me to give you this the other day.”
He holds out a little envelope.
I frown. “He was here?”
“Stopped in on your day off.”
I grab the envelope from his hand and tear it open, glad to see that at least my brother didn’t attempt to open it.
The note inside is small, like the one I left under his door, days ago.
Doing night shoots for the network for the next three days, so I’m asleep by 9 and up at 4am.
And yes, before you ask. I’ve thought of you each time I…
-L
I glare at Jules like I’m putting him on trial. “How long ago did he give you this?”
He waves a hand. “I don’t know. A few days ago?”
“You kept this from me on purpose, didn’t you?”
He glares at me. “You actually are doing something with him, aren’t you?”
“You don’t get a say in how I explore my sexuality.”
He rolls his eyes. “I don’t care who you hook up with, Chase, but I do give a fuck when it’s a hotel guest who you’re leading on.”
“Leading on how?”
“Does he know you’re a fuckboy?”
“Not all sex has to end up with wedding bells and a picket fence, Julian. Sometimes people just have fun. I’m not a fuckboy just because I’ve had lots of hookups. I’m always kind to every woman I fuck, even if she doesn’t deserve it, honestly.”
“He could get us both fired, and you know that,” Julian says. “You piss him off or break his heart, and we’re toast.”
“Logan wouldn’t do that.”
“Damn. You’re on a first name basis now?”
I sigh. “I don’t see how I can break his heart if we’re not doing anything serious to begin with. Let me live.”
He finally relaxes a little. “Fine. But if we lose this job because of it, I’m not going to pick up the pieces to get us another one. Not like I did last time.”
I set my jaw as I look out the window. “I’m sorry, Jules. I don’t know how many times I have to say it.”
He’s referring to an incident I’d rather forget.
I ended up costing Julian a job last year when he missed the interview to come pick me up from the hospital, instead.
He was interviewing at a fancy bar in Soho, right after sunset.
It was a bad night. A really bad one. I made myself sick on liquor and forgot that I’d taken prescribed painkillers from a dental appointment earlier that day, and the combination hit so hard that the girl I was with took me to the ER.
She told Julian I was fine, but… he showed up anyway.
He always shows up for me.
He puts out fires that I don’t mean to start.
It’s the only reason I don’t hate him when he does shit like this, because I know my brother means well, even if he is trying to cockblock me in the process.
The rest of my shift is packed with customers from a wedding that came in earlier today. I work hard, bouncing back and forth between tables in the lounge and the main bar.
Luckily Julian’s friend picks him up in a cab after our shift.
I hang outside for a minute after saying goodbye to him, getting that zinging feeling that I used to get a lot more often.
Then I go back in through the Bellwood lobby and take the elevator to the top.
I’m so pent up that when Logan opens his front door, I don’t wait for him to even say hello before I shove him up against the wall in the entryway.
The door swings shut behind us.
Logan doesn’t even question my forcefulness.
He looks me in the eye, his gaze almost looking relieved. He seems a little tired, judging by the faint dark circle beneath each eye.
His cheekbones are so fucking beautiful. Even better than I remembered. I keep glancing at his ruddy lips, and his skin shines faintly in the low light of the entryway.
His lashes flick up and down a couple of times before he finally speaks.
“Hi,” he says, his voice low.
I swallow. “Hi.”
I’m shocked by the anger that sparks through me as I keep him pressed up against the wall.
Not anger at him.
Solely at myself.
Logan’s been letting me into his life, bit by bit, and it’s too easy for me to get… fixated.
Even though he’s given me all of the power when we’re together, he had too much power over me while we were apart.
I’m tired of my mind questioning what the hell I’m doing.
I need all the thoughts to stop.
I cup his cock through his pants, giving it a squeeze. He’s in a soft white long-sleeve shirt and grey sweatpants, and somehow he manages to look even better than he does in his designer shit. Breathing in his scent is driving me wild. It’s mixed with something else, tonight. Something fresh.
“Did you just eat something delicious?” I ask.
“I cut up some watermelon,” he says. “Want some?”
“Would you feed it to me?”
He exhales, briefly narrowing his eyes at me before he relents. “Yes. I would. If that’s what you wanted.”
I bite my lower lip, letting it go slowly. “Yeah. Later.”
I pin him with my hips this time, grinding on him a little as the entire front of my body pushes up against his. I pull in a long breath, my eyes dancing over his face, squeezing my palm on his cock until I start to feel him harden under my hand.
He thought of me, when he came.
I feel like someone’s pulling at my mind like it’s taffy. I’m starting to get so turned on when I’m around him it’s like I’m coming down with something.
“Want you to do something for me,” I say in a low tone.
He swallows, nodding for me. “Yes?”
“Turn around.”
I grip his waist and spin his body in front of me, pushing him onto the wall forwards this time instead.
The expanse of his back is my whole field of view now. Even beneath his white cotton shirt, his muscles bend and sculpt the fabric, and it’s clear how good it is underneath.
I grip the waistband of his sweatpants and yank them down, and once his ass is fully exposed, my cock throbs.
Holy fuck, I do not have a “straight” bone in my body when I see that.
He’s so fucking perfect.
I couldn’t paint him.
Not this well.
No amount of acrylic or watercolor or oil could do justice to this man who makes all of my senses light up like a fucking Christmas tree, like he exists already as a work of art.
I squeeze his cheek hard and dig my fingers in. I reach back to undo my own pants, and I shove them away, stripping naked from the waist down.
I have to be closer.
“Just want to try this,” I tell him.
I reposition, widening my legs a little bit to get into the right place. I move forward again a little toward the back of his body, and I slide my cock along the underside of the cleft of his ass.
He takes in a sharp breath of air as he feels the contact there, his whole body tensing.
“Chase,” he utters.
“Don’t worry,” I whisper back at him.
I’m not sure if he thinks I’m stupid enough to just shove my cock inside him raw, but that’s not what I’m doing.
I spit on my hand and slick my cock with it, then let it slide in the crest between the underside of his cheeks again. I’m not trying to get inside him, and instead I’m just using his cheeks to glide my cock along the shape they make.
The sight of it turns me on so much I ache.
I fucking promise you wouldn’t even have to be attracted to men to know that Logan’s ass is fucking incredible, muscled like goddamn carved marble, and begging to be touched.
It’s always unnerving to realize you want someone that badly, almost like I’m not in control of my own body anymore. Like it’s a magnet being pulled toward him, and even if I tried, I’d never be able to stop.
“You are…” I push my palm up under his shirt, feeling the warmth of his skin. “Take this off, too. I know I'm being impatient. I didn’t even ask what you were doing before I got here. You busy? Because I want you naked.”
“Chase, I was eating watermelon and reading a contract about movie royalties,” he says in a low tone. “I’m ready to be interrupted.”
He pulls off his shirt fully and I lean down, resting my forehead just below the back of his neck.
He’s naked in front of me now.
An expanse of tanned skin that makes my mouth water.
“You have freckles here too,” I say, skating my fingertips over the sides of his back like I’m discovering new land. “How did I not notice that yet?”
I grip my cock harder as I start to jerk myself off.
I keep it slow.
Agonizingly slow.