22. Chase
CHASE
In my mind, I’m holding a paintbrush to a colossal, razor-thin piece of glass, holding my breath with every brushstroke as I watch a spiderweb pattern of cracks appear on the surface.
Every shred of my focus is being spent on one thing and only one thing.
I can’t let the glass break. A heavy brushstroke could splinter it to pieces, but I can’t stop painting, and painting, like there’s a pack of hungry, wild dogs pawing at the inside of me and I have no chance of taming them.
That’s how it feels, inside, as I slowly walk up the steps with Logan.
Is that how everyone feels when they realize they’re falling in love?
Or that they’ve already fallen in love, long ago, and it only came to land on their head like a brick out of nowhere?
When Logan put his hand on my back, I thought it, clear and bright in my mind.
I love you.
I almost said it.
Offhandedly, like it was nothing.
And then when he kissed me in public, it shot through my mind in more vivid color, screaming out of me, in every cell of my body.
I’m so, so fucking in love with you.
I shoved the words back in my mouth because I felt crazy, but everything with Logan feels a little bit like that.
“It’s too dark in here,” I say as we head up to the third-floor. Oh, and also, I love you. “My landlord George is a very sweet, kind old comic book nerd who lives on the top-floor apartment, but he never remembers to replace the lightbulb for the landing.”
I’m saying more words about my landlord now than I’ve spoken to Logan in the past half an hour, practically.
But there’s that glass, between us, in my mind.
This time, it’s one that I put up, instead of him. The one that’s already threatening to break.
Because I love him, and I have no idea if it’s okay to, yet.
We take the wooden stairs to the third-floor landing. There's at least a little wall sconce hanging beside each of the doors up here, and I no longer feel like I’m taking Logan up into a dark, dilapidated shack.
“This building is amazing,” Logan says. “So much original wood. They didn’t get rid of all of it when they did the remodel.”
I grab my keys and get us in, swinging open the door.
“This place is going to make you crazy. My brother is the only person who’s sometimes neat and organized like you, but my roommates and I are… well. You know how I am.”
I turn on the lamp on the entryway table and cast the room in its glow.
“Holy shit, the art,” Logan says.
He’s gawking at the massive mural I painted along the far wall of the living room. Two of the walls are red brick, but on one of the inner walls, I painted a giant raven perched on the edge of a cherry tree, with a sweeping view of hills below it.
“Oh. Right. I forget that’s there,” I tell him. “That’s another reason I’m lucky my landlord is a comic book nerd. He loves shit like this. He told me I have to paint it white again whenever we move out, but he appreciated the art.”
“It’s incredible.”
Logan’s looking everywhere now, and through his eyes, I see our apartment in a completely different light.
It couldn’t be more different from Logan’s pristine, organized hotel room. It occurs to me that I’ve never seen what Logan’s actual house in LA looks like, and something rattles in my heart, like I’m behind that glass in my mind again.
He looks at the tall bookshelves on the other wall, which are full of art books and my roommates’ huge collection of fantasy novels.
He stares at the couch, which my friend and I made a colorful slipcover for last year, and then gazes for a while at the massive collection of Polaroids that we’ve tacked up onto the wall for the past few years.
“Don’t look too closely at any of those pictures,” I tell him. “They’re from my past life, to say the least.”
He points to one where I’m wearing a lacy pink dress with combat boots. “Explain?”
“Halloween,” I tell him. “I looked pretty, didn’t I?”
The corner of his mouth comes up in a smile, and he points at another, where I’m on the balcony with a cigarette in my hand, opening my mouth to show a tiny green pill and blue pill on my tongue. “And this one?”
I take a slow breath. “I don’t remember that night. One of my roommates took that picture, I think.”
Logan’s expression drops. “Why do you keep it up, then?”
“I don’t spend a lot of time looking at those pictures, to be honest.”
I reach over and unpin it from the wall, tossing that one into the trash.
“I do like this one, though,” Logan says, looking at a picture of me laughing while pulling my shirt up to expose my chest, where I wrote ‘I bite’ with my friend’s lipstick. “I didn’t know you used to have your nipples pierced.”
“I did. Took them out once and I lost one of the barbells, so I just never bothered finding new ones.”
“God, sometimes I feel like you’ve done more in the last few years than I’ve done in my whole life,” Logan murmurs.
“But I’ve done a lot more stupid things. I promise you. The kitchen’s over there, by the way. You want anything to drink? I don’t keep alcohol anymore, but I’m sure one of my roommates has some.”
“I don’t need anything,” he says. “Can I see your room?”
I stare at him, suddenly feeling something crest inside me that I can’t hold back.
“Why did you do that earlier tonight, Logan? Kissing me. In public.”
Splinter.
Fracture.
Crack.
Logan’s eyes meet mine immediately. Suddenly he doesn’t seem to care about the apartment at all anymore, only looking over at me.
“You want to talk about it now, rather than ignoring it like you’ve done all night?” He asks the question gently. “Thought you were going to give me an exhaustive tour before I ever got a word out of you about that.”
“Why did you do it so easily?” I ask again, firmly this time.
“You know why. You’ve been different ever since we did that photoshoot yesterday, and I wanted you to feel better.”
He frowns. “So you just felt bad for me?”
“Don’t put it that way. I don’t feel bad for you. I really like you, Chase.”
Well, I’m glad you really like me, because…
“But you’re not mine,” I say forcefully. “You’re not mine, but when I’m close with you, I feel like you’re mine. And I’m fucking tired of it.”
His eyes hold mine in a burning gaze. “Why would you be tired of that?”
I let out a frustrated growl, turning away. “It’s exhausting to hold myself back. I’m not the kind of person who holds back from anything. But you’re you, and I respect you too much. So I know I need to hold back.”
I start to walk down the short hall toward my room.
He catches my hand behind me, tugging at my arm.
“It’s okay that you feel like I’m yours, Chase.”
Something tightens in my throat. “Stop.”
A rush goes through me as I watch Logan drop down.
It happens in an instant, but it only takes a moment for me to realize what he’s doing.
He kneels.
On one knee, first, and then the other, sitting in front of me like he did that night on the roof.
“You know it’s true,” he says in a low tone.
“Then say it,” I whisper.
He’s still holding my hand, even now while he’s on the floor in front of me. I bring a hand to his hair, threading my fingers through it automatically, and I feel like I’ll die if I don’t.
I’m shot through with a wicked, pulsing feeling that's almost close to anger. Not a white-hot rage at him, fuck no, nothing close to it. But rage at every fucked-up thing that’s ever held me back from him.
“I want you to say it,” he tells me. “I want to hear it so badly.”
It’s like there’s a controlled explosion in my chest, because he’s so aware of what he’s doing to me.
He’s giving me control.
“You want it?” I whisper.
“So badly, Chase.”
And there’s no longer anything between us anymore.
I step forward, feeling my heart pulse inside me.
“You’re mine, Logan,” I tell him plainly. “You’re mine. You have been since the first time you saw me, because you couldn’t look away, and I couldn’t, either.”
“I’m yours,” he says, moving his hand lower to squeeze my thigh.
“I felt it on that rooftop. I thought I was just losing my mind. You would have been so fucking afraid, if I ever said it.”
He exhales, and when he shakes his head, I move my hand to the side of his beautiful throat.
“I was never afraid of you,” he says.
I cock my head to one side. “No?”
“Not even a little.”
I bend over and capture his lips in a kiss, squeezing the side of his neck. I kiss him so hard that I stumble, collapsing over him, but nothing is going to stop me from keeping my mouth on his right now.
I drop to my knees over him now as he leans backward, both of us on the ground as I feel myself giving everything to him.
Everything.
I can’t say it yet, because I’m starting to realize I’ve never loved someone the way I love Logan.
I don’t know when I’ll be able to make those words come out of my mouth, but I can show him. All I want to do is show him that I’m falling in love with him.
“I can’t stop being fucking obsessed with you,” I murmur against his lips. “I tried. I tried…”
I’m too impatient not to slide my tongue onto his before I’ve even finished the sentence.
“I thought you were finished with me,” he breathes when I move to kiss his jaw. “Thought I might be losing you.”
“I couldn’t ever be finished with you.”
I stand up, reach out my hand, and help him up. I drag him down the hall toward my bedroom door, pushing it open and then shutting it behind us.
I don’t give him any space to move, shoving my body up against his on the wall of my room, pinning him with my body.
“Why did you seem so far away from me all night?” he protests as I lean in, sucking a kiss against the side of his neck.
“It doesn’t matter.”
“It’s not you, Chase. I know you better than that.”
“Maybe I was mad,” I tell him, leaning back and giving him a burning glare. My hand twists into his hair, giving his head a little tug that makes him moan. “Mad at myself. Maybe I was getting fucking greedy, like I always do, and I had to make myself stop.”
His lashes flick lower toward my lips. He answers by leaning in and capturing me in a deep, slow kiss, sliding his tongue along mine.