Chase

25. Logan

LOGAN

I know the photoshoot is getting attention before I even see it on the official website.

“Look at that!” my driver says, chuckling afterward from the front of the SUV as we pull through Times Square, looking up at a billboard. It’s a digital news billboard with a giant screen that runs a scrolling ticker at the bottom, with images that flash over the top.

“That is a giant fucking photo of Logan’s cock,” Emily says, gazing out through the windshield.

“A blurred-out cock,” I say, marveling at the image.

The news ticker reads A Whole Lot More Football Player - Logan Stone Bares it All.

The picture is one where I’m doing pull-ups on a bar that Chase had installed on the doorframe of his studio.

“They picked the image where you most look like Damien Vance,” Emily says. “They’re smart. People have wanted full-frontal from your character since episode 1.”

“They’re snapping pictures of it,” the driver says as we’re at a red light, grinning at a few tourists who are holding their cell phones up toward the billboard.

One man is walking by with his son, and as his son looks up at the image for too long, his father pushes his head in the other direction.

“I wonder if Chase has seen that they’re out.”

“The release email went to all of us,” Emily says.

“He’s on his work shift, though,” I tell her. “He’s going to flip.”

It’s around rush hour, and the traffic on the way back to the Bellwood is brutal.

It’s at least half an hour until we pull into the back alley.

Security is about a hundred times better behind the hotel now when they know I’m coming, and there are already six big, burly personnel guarding the perimeter of the alley.

But the fans are still gathered there.

“I will never understand how they know the exact days I’ll be coming back to New York. I wasn’t even in town all week.”

Emily sighs, looking out at them. “It only takes one leak. If one young production assistant in the Catskills tells one friend, it can spread like wildfire online.”

I step out of the car and the crowd shouts at me from their place behind the barricades.

I wave over at them and smile like always.

“Hot pictures!” someone yells.

“Bench press me, Daddy!”

I laugh as I give them a little salute, heading in through the back door of the Bellwood. I’m about to go over to the elevator bay, but I take a turn, going for the restaurant instead.

I peek in and see that it’s the start of the dinner rush.

The restaurant is packed, and there are only a few empty tables.

“Good evening,” the hostess says to me, and I can tell from the look in her eyes that she recognizes me instantly, but she’s being polite not to point it out. “Can I get you a table?”

I shake my head. “No. I’m sure you have plenty of reservations already, and I’m not going to bump anyone. I’m wondering if I could quickly speak to one of your kitchen staff? Chase Cameron.”

“Oh, Chase went on his break. He should be back soon, if you’d like to wait?”

I shake my head. “Thank you. Have a wonderful evening.”

I head back into the lobby and take the elevator fast up to my suite. I beep in and stride through the rooms, not finding him anywhere up here, either.

When I go up to the roof, I know it’s a long shot.

But he’s here.

And seeing him for the first time in a week, my body gets a jolt of electricity. He’s looking down at his phone, his face glowing in the soft blue light as he leans against the wall out here. A breeze moves through his hair, tossing it gently to one side.

When he looks up and sees me, there’s astonishment in his eyes.

“Wow,” he murmurs.

“Are you just seeing all of it?”

He nods. “You actually did it, Logan. The whole world’s talking about you.”

“We did it. Get the fuck over here, Chase.”

I close the space between us and he exhales as I crush my lips to his in a kiss. I draw his body against mine, clutching at the back of his head, smelling my own body wash on him and knowing he was in my hotel.

“Look at this,” Chase says, pulling back from the kiss but keeping one hand on my shoulder, staying there against my body.

He holds his phone up so both of us can see it, and he navigates to his professional email account.

There are dozens of unread emails already.

The subject lines all say variations on the same theme:

Availability for an independent project?

How can I book you for a photoshoot?

Chase Cameron schedule for Q3 and Q4?

Availability Inquiry

Want to work with you

Booking with you

Collaboration Possibility?

He scrolls through them and then brings the phone down, looking back up at me. “I’ve never gotten a single email in my life asking me to make art for money. One of these emails is from one of my favorite photographers in the city, Xander Rousseau. He wants to work with me. This is…”

It’s rare to see Chase lost for words.

But he is, right now.

He’s looking at his phone like he thinks this is all a joke.

I lean over and kiss the side of his head. “You knew this was going to get your name out there for professional things.”

He looks at me again, shoving his phone in his pocket. “Logan, I knew you were mega-famous, but I didn’t know you were famous enough that anyone near you would get a gold star next to their name.”

“I think some people just want to be associated with people who know famous people. In this case, it just happens to be in combination with an incredible talent, because you make great work.”

He puffs out a laugh. “Well, they’re fucking crazy if they think their photoshoots would turn out like yours, because no one is as hot as you.”

A wave of need hits me and I pull him into another deep kiss. “I missed you.”

“I missed you so much,” he whispers. “Your hotel isn’t as fun without you. I still shoved my fave into your pillow every night like I was a scent-huffing fiend, but it wasn’t the same.”

“Can the rest of this night be cancelled and you just come back to my room with me now?” I ask him.

“I have to get back to work. God, Ruby is probably slammed right now in the kitchen. Holy shit. I might not even be working in the kitchen much longer if I’m working with fucking Xander Rousseau instead. What is my life? I already responded, and he said I can come by his studio tomorrow.”

“Can I tell you something you’re going to hate?”

“Please. Tell me anything. Nothing can fuck with me right now.”

“I’m proud of you, Chase.”

He holds my gaze for a moment, shaking his head before he looks out at the city below. “You’re the one who made it all happen.”

“Nope. Any other photographer wouldn’t have captured me like you do. I wouldn’t have been myself in front of that camera for anyone but you.”

A corner of his mouth comes up in a smile. “Is that because you like me, Logan?” he says in a teasing voice.

“It might be.”

He tucks his hand beneath the hem of my shirt, shoving it upward so that he can skate his palm over my spine.

“You like me, and you want my cock inside you after my work shift?”

“I do, and I do.”

He leans in and presses a tiny kiss to each edge of my mouth. “Maybe I’ll be generous enough to give that to you tonight.”

I hum against him, tucking my nose into his hair. “If you want me to beg, I’ll beg.”

“I know you will, baby.”

His head tilts and he catches me in another kiss.

We head through the glossy door hand-in-hand, and I walk him down the hall to the elevators, giving him a kiss before he heads downstairs.

My social media tags are absolutely flooded with censored versions of my photoshoot.

I’ve been lying back on my couch in the living room ever since Chase went back down to work, scrolling through it all.

I’m glued to it in a way I’m not used to.

Typically, the online gossip makes me feel awful, and I don’t spend too much time looking at what millions of strangers are saying about me.

This time, it feels different.

Firstly, I’m desperately relieved to see that all of the gossip about Caitlyn Grener has died down.

I give her a quick call, letting her know that her awful, false story should be old news to the internet soon enough.

The few posts I’ve seen about her lately have actually been supportive, with some of my own fans reposting the statement my team made that Cait never cheated.

But it’s different for a bigger reason, too.

This flood of attention is mostly on me, yes.

It’s also about Chase, though.

Most people don’t delve deep enough to see the name of my photographer, but a small portion of millions of people is still a large number. Some people are really curious about him.

I see a few comments about him, even on the main photos on my profile:

Holy shit, this photographer is sick.

This is, like, actual art. Bravo, Chase Cameron, whoever you are.

Ummmm gonna need this photog to take pics of my bf, ASAP.

How did they manage to make Logan Stone look like a football player, an intellectual, and a Greek statue, all in one photoshoot?

I lose myself in it all night.

And right before Chase comes up after his shift, I see something.

My eyes catch on a new post that was made.

My name was tagged in it…

But the post isn’t like the others.

Someone posted the picture of me and Chase from last week at the art gallery bar, and next to it, they stitched a picture of one of my nudes.

But when I swipe to the left, there’s another picture.

It’s an old one.

A scanned Polaroid of Chase.

He has multicolored pills on his palm, holding his hand out for the photo like he’s offering them on a platter.

There’s a cigarette tucked behind his ear, and he’s shirtless, with his nipples still pierced in the photo and a lot fewer tattoos at that time.

He looks like himself, but… lost. With darker circles under his eyes, and an expression that communicates how much he doesn’t care.

My gut drops as I look at the caption.

Knew this guy back in high school.

Chase Cameron.

He’d do anything for drugs and sex, so I guess he’s probably enjoying his payday from a celeb shoot?

Anyway, beware.

He’s an actual fucking freak. In and out of mandated therapy, hospitals, and almost got expelled.

Nobody liked him in school besides other freaks, or girls who followed him around and said he had a big dick.

@loganstone did you or your team know who you were working with??? Do better. Do research.

Celebs are so fucking brainless.

A chill comes over my body as I read the post.

I want it to get buried.

I need it to.

But when I scroll down, I already see that it’s gaining traction. Someone only put it up ten minutes ago, but it has reposts. It has way too many likes. And the comments show a handful of people commenting in the last few minutes, asking if this is real.

People love a controversy.

They love feeling like they know information that someone else doesn’t know, too.

I tap the little red dot to report the photo. I flag it for misinformation, but the pop-up just gives me a generic response saying they’ll review my request. The post is still going to stay up, and even if they look at my moderation request, it might just get denied.

I hear the sound of the front door of the suite opening.

I lock my phone instantly, dropping it face-down onto the table as Chase walks in.