Chapter 5 John #3
He says it almost dreamily and it looks like there’s a flicker of sadness in his eyes now that doesn’t belong there.
For an irrational moment, I want to get rid of it, to do anything it takes to destroy whatever is making his joy waver, but that isn’t my place, and before I can respond, Chad starts again.
“I want that… Do you think… Is he happy because he’s married to a man? Blake never wanted to date a man before. It was my idea for him to go on the show, and now he’s soooo happy. I miss him. We did everything together before, and now he has Liam.” He sighs, then looks at me. “I want my own Liam.”
I blink a few times because the flicker of hope in my chest at his words absolutely doesn’t belong there. “You’re straight,” I remind us both. He’s not seriously thinking about being with a man, and even if he is, it wouldn’t be me. I don’t do commitment.
He’s just drunk and lonely, and I don’t actually want to be Chad’s anything. I’m perfectly content with my life the way it is. I might’ve once wanted what he’s implying, but that was with Luke, and Luke’s gone.
“I am straight,” he agrees with confidence, pulling my thoughts out of the past. Then he shrugs. “Probably.”
“Probably?” I can’t stop myself from repeating because what the hell is happening right now?
“Well, I don’t know, John,” he says, exasperated. “Apparently none of us know anything until we meet a hot farmer and have a bi-awakening!” Did he just say Liam was hot? He squeezes my hand again, then murmurs, “I love you.”
My entire body goes rigid at the words he just so casually said. No one has told me they’ve loved me in so long. I don’t know what exactly he’s implying, but he obviously doesn’t mean like that, so there’s no reason for me to have such a visceral reaction.
“No. You don’t,” I dismiss, because he’s just drunk. That explains it all.
“Yes, I dooo,” he insists, swaying forward and pressing his forehead lightly to my shoulder.
“I love Blake, and I love Liam, and I love Jace, and I love Kieran and Ash. Honestly, I love everyone, but right now you’re my veryyyy favorite because you’re here, taking care of meeee, and feeding meeee, and you saved me from the bad man and didn’t leave me. You’re the best bestie-in-law.”
“That’s not—”
“Stop denying what we have, John,” Chad says seriously as he smirks up at me from where his head rests on my shoulder.
The couple in front of us turns around; they probably couldn’t help themselves after everything they just heard from Chad.
“We’re sooo cute, aren’t we?” Chad shamelessly asks them, and they smile at us awkwardly before turning back around to order.
Thank fuck they didn’t say anything, I’m so out of my depth here I would have no idea what to say, but I’m glad they didn’t try to fight Chad.
By the time we finally make it to the counter to order, we take our number, walk to a free table and sit down in a booth, I feel like we’ve been here for hours, and I’m questioning every life choice I’ve ever made that led me to this one-on-one meal with Chad.
I scoot in first, and instead of Chad scooting in on the other side like a normal person, he slides in right next to me. “What the fuck are you doing?” I ask, meaning to sound more annoyed and less amused than I do. I am not someone who sits on the same side of the booth, ever.
He blinks at me. “Sitting.”
“On my side?”
“Yes.” He nuzzles his head back onto my shoulder. “Need you.”
It’s been so long since someone’s touched me so casually. Not since… I shut that thought down before it goes anywhere. I need to stop thinking about Luke. Chad is enough to handle, and I don’t need to get lost in the tragic internal monologue of my past tonight.
He sighs contentedly as we wait in the booth. “You’re comfy.”
“I’m not,” I mutter, even though that traitorous part of me doesn’t entirely hate what he’s doing.
He somehow shifts closer, thigh pressed against me, fingers loosely tangled in mine again.
I tell myself that if he were sober, I’d shove him away, establish boundaries.
But he’s not sober, and he’s not doing this to get a rise out of me or to flirt.
I think he’s just lonely and missing someone he cares about… and I guess I can relate to that.
A waitress brings our burgers and fries over, and sets them on the table, taking our number.
“Thank youuuu,” he sings, and then immediately grabs the ketchup bottle.
“Jesus, Chad,” I say as he continues squeezing the ketchup on the plate until it’s practically a mini mountain.
He stops, looks at the plate, and nods at it. “Perfect.” Then he dips a fry into the ketchup pile, takes a massive bite, and moans dramatically. “Oh my god. This is the best thing I’ve ever had in my mouth.”
“It’s a fry,” I deadpan. Seriously, how does he not realize how sexual half of the things he says sound?
“No, you have to try it, it’s so good,” he insists, picking up a fry that’s dipped in ketchup and holding it in front of my face. “John, try it.” I smack the fry away from his hand and he gasps. “John, that’s no fun!”
Then he picks up another one that’s not dipped in ketchup and holds it in his mouth between his lips. “Come on,” he mumbles the best he can around the fry. “Tryyyy it.” He leans forward, aiming his mouth at my face like this is the fucking Lady and The Tramp. “Hafe fun wif me.”
I stare at him as he leans closer. And closer.
“Chad,” I warn firmly.
His eyes go wide. They’re still a bit bloodshot but somehow still so full of hope that I’ll go along with this stunt.
“Chad,” I repeat, lower.
He freezes an inch from my face, and we stare at each other for a long moment, the fry brushing my bottom lip. He’s so close… and for an insane second, I wonder what it would be like if that fry wasn’t there.
Then he laughs through clenched teeth, breaking me out of whatever the fuck that was. His laugh is more of a wheeze, like he thinks this is the most hilarious thing in the world, and despite how chaotic this night has been, the pure unfiltered joy in his expression has me smirking back at him.
And because he’s drunk and ridiculous and leaning into me, and it’s been so long since I did anything “fun,” I think “fuck it” and bite the fry.
He squeals. Literally squeals at the fact I participated when he clearly wasn’t expecting it.
“Oh my god!” he shouts so loudly that I’m immediately aware of a few heads turning our way. I ignore them, hoping my face tells them to fuck off and turn around. “We did it! We shared a fry!”
I don’t know which of us is more surprised that I actually did that. There’s just something about him that makes it so fucking hard for me to refuse him.
It’s not because I wanted to see him smile like that again, obviously.
“We did. Now eat your food so we can go back to the hotel,” I order, and shockingly, he does what I say, finally eating some of his burger.
We both finish quickly, thankfully without any more attempted sharing, and toss our trash on the way out.
I have to steer him out the door, and I book us a car to go back to the hotel.
The ride back is mostly uneventful. Chad sits next to me in the backseat, and once again, reaches for my hand to interlock our fingers. At this point I’ve given up on fighting him—not that I even really tried to stop him—it’s easier to give into him than try to reason with him.
When we get back to the penthouse, I unlock the door and nudge him inside. He literally kicks off his shoes and one goes flying across the room, which makes him crack up.
One of the two bedrooms that are supposed to be split between me, him, and Ash is already closed. I knock on the door but there’s no reply, so I try the handle but it’s locked. Ash must’ve come back before us and claimed the room so Chad couldn’t possibly join him.
That leaves one bedroom and the couch.
I’m not thrilled about either option. As much as I’d love to plop him on the couch and say I’ve done enough, making sure he avoided a fight, ate, and made it back here alive, I also feel like a complete asshole not giving him the bed when he’s the one paying for the suite.
“Alright,” I say, turning back to Chad. “You’re in here.”
I half-guide, half-push him into the bedroom, and as he walks inside, I go to shut the door so I can sleep on the couch. After all that, there’s no way I’m going out again. The thought of trying to forget about Chad tonight seems impossible, and now that I’m here, I just want to sleep.
“Wait, John.” He reaches out, stopping me from shutting the door.
“What now?” I sigh.
“Don’t leave me. Please,” he begs, quieter than he’s been in hours. I have no idea what he’s doing to make his eyes look so big, but it’s tugging at something in my chest. What the fuck is he doing to me?
“You’re just going to sleep,” I remind him. “You won’t even notice I’m gone.”
“Yes, I will,” he says quietly. “I’ll wake up and it’ll be dark and quiet and I’ll be all alone with nothing to think about except that you left me, just like Blake did. I’ll be so sad.”
I exhale slowly. “Chad—”
“Jusss, please.” He steps closer and grabs the front of my shirt, fingers fisted in the fabric as he tries to pull me closer to him, as if the idea of me leaving is truly awful. “Jus lie down for a minute.”
I want to say no, I really do, but despite my better judgment, there’s an innocence to him that’s so damn endearing it makes it so fucking hard to refuse him. So I sigh and reluctantly sit on the edge of the bed. “Fine. A few minutes.”
He lights up instantly, then strips down to his boxer briefs and pulls back the covers. I knew he was a fit guy, but fuck. His abs are flexed as he holds up the blanket, and I can’t look away.
“Come on, get in here! You can’t sleep like that,” he insists, waiving a hand at the clothes I’m wearing.
I hesitate at the suggestion, but Chad claims to be straight, and I know he doesn’t mean anything by it.
I also know there’s no way I’m going to comfortably get into this bed with my leather jacket and pants.
Sighing, I turn off the light and strip out of my pants, then jacket and shirt, placing them on the back of the armchair in the corner of the room.
“There you go!” he encourages happily as I walk back to the bed, joining him, now only in my black boxer briefs.
“I’m only staying for a minute, so go to sleep,” I remind him.
“Sure, sure,” he says dismissively as I climb into the king-sized bed.
But instead of him staying on his half of the bed, he rolls in close, tucking himself against my side.
One leg hooks over mine, and his arm drapes across my chest. He exhales, and all his weight settles into me.
“There,” he says quietly. “Now I can sleep.”
I should move him, peel him off me. Complain at the very least.
But I don’t. I… can’t? I feel like I’ve lost all control of my actions as I let him snuggle into me. Chad isn’t small by any means, only an inch or two shorter than I am, and he definitely spends a lot of time in the gym, but I’m sure I could push him off easily.
It’s only a minute before his breathing evens out, and after another long minute, I finally start to peel away from him to go sleep on the couch like I know I should. I didn’t even bother to close the door because I’m not staying.
But he groans when I try to move, pulling me closer to him.
“Don’t go,” he whispers, his eyes still closed.
Fuck.