15. Logan
Logan
Icannot believe I offered this.
What fucking Hulked-out straight dude wants to cuddle, for Christ’s sake? The one that’s currently sprawled out on my couch. That’s who. The one who still can’t manage to find a shirt even though it’s twenty-four degrees outside.
The one who will eventually be the death of my nuts. Because regardless of whether or not I find Chase attractive, the fact that he wants to be the little spoon means he’s grinding his ass against my dick in an effort to get comfortable.
His ass.
My dick.
“Chase,” I say his name through gritted teeth as I grip his hip.
“Yeah?” he replies, seemingly without a care in the world.
“You have to stop moving,” I warn.
“Well, your couch is so damn small, I can’t get comfortable. Do you have a TV in your room? Maybe we could cuddle on your king-sized bed instead?” he suggests, like it’s the most normal thing in the world.
“Chase, you’re not getting in my bed.”
“Afraid you won’t be able to control yourself?” he teases.
“Two years is a long time, man.” It’s the best attempt I can make at a joke, but it’s not a total lie.
I think back to the night Jack had my dick in his mouth and I felt nothing.
Why the fuck does it have to be Chase that makes my dick wake up?
He’s a direct connection to the past I’ve tried so hard to leave behind.
“Shh, the movie is starting,” Chase whispers.
“Did you just shush me in my own home?” I ask, poking Chase in the side. I expect it to give, but of course, his torso is solid muscle, even when he’s relaxed.
“I did,” he confirms unapologetically, shifting again.
Moving behind him, I tap his stomach.
“Sit up for a sec,” I instruct.
I follow suit and prop my feet on the ottoman, finally able to stretch out and get comfortable before pulling Chase’s upper body down into my lap and driving my fingers into his hair.
“Ohhhhhmygod,” he groans, practically purring. “Please do this for the rest of our lives.”
“Sounds an awful lot like a marriage proposal, Dr. Matthews.” The joke comes easier without his ass cheeks strangling my cock.
“Worth it,” he replies, making me laugh.
“Shh, I can’t hear the movie,” I say, mocking him. We both know the movie is just for appearances anyway. There’s no fucking way I can concentrate on a movie, and I’m pretty sure Chase is going to be asleep in thirty seconds.
It ends up taking closer to forty-five, but the opening credits haven’t even finished by the time his breathing evens out. It’s three minutes into the movie when I feel his drool seep through the leg of my sweatpants.
I let him sleep as long as I can, but when I start dozing off myself, I finally call the ball and want to get into bed.
Shaking his shoulder gently, I wake him up.
“Hey, Chase. I think it’s time for bed. We’re both falling asleep out here.”
“Mmm,” he grunts, rolling toward me until his face is pressed against my stomach. His arms are folded across his broad chest as he nuzzles closer. The proximity gives me a chance to really study his features.
When he sleeps, he looks so fucking young.
The freckles on his cheeks are in clusters dotted on his cheekbones and the bridge of his nose, as if they had a conversation about how to be the most attractive freckles the world has ever seen.
His lips are full, but not pouty. And he doesn’t have a trace of facial hair.
“You’re staring,” he murmurs without opening his eyes.
“You’re awake,” I observe.
“Kinda,” Chase says, eyes still closed.
“Kinda,” I echo, admitting to my perusal of his facial features.
He gives me a sleepy smile.
“Like what you see?”
The problem is that I do. And unfortunately, I don’t think Chase is confused about his sexuality like Stone was. I simply think he’s confident and secure in who he is. He’s a giant ball of masculinity wrapped in a sensitive shell who has an affinity for bro cuddling.
Shit.
Chase may not be confused about what’s going on here, but I sure as fuck am.
“So, do you have plans for Christmas?” I ask the following night as Chase stands at my stove, drying out ground beef in a way that makes me think these tacos will break my molars.
He wanted to ‘repay’ me for bringing him lunch and making him dinner last night, even though he’s basically catatonic after another long day.
“Um, yeah, I do,” he says. “I volunteered to work on Christmas Eve and Christmas. Then I have this thing afterward on Christmas Eve because I didn’t think…I mean, when I made them, you and I weren’t…aw, shit. Are you going to be alone?”
I’ve spent every Christmas alone since moving out here, and I’ve really got no reason to think this year would be different. I assumed Chase would spend it in Vermont with his parents or with Kendra down in Florida.
“Yeah, but it’s cool. It’s been that way for a while now.”
“I should probably be home around nine or nine-thirty. Maybe we could do something easy like a frozen Christmas pizza?”
“What the hell is Christmas pizza?” I ask.
“Regular pepperoni pizza, but you arrange the pepperonis into the shape of a Christmas tree,” Chase explains, drawing out the tree with his hands as he talks.
“Sounds perfect,” I say, fighting my smile.
Chase is clearly serious about Christmas pizza, and I don’t want him to think I’m making fun of him.
He’s such a dichotomous person. Saving lives and managing people’s dire health during the day, but eating Christmas pizza while platonically snuggling on the couch like a child at night.
I don’t ask where he’s going on Christmas Eve or who he’s spending it with. Maybe his co-residents have something planned, or one of the attending physicians hosts all the residents, and Chase has to go.
It’s not like I’m upset about it.
Because I’m definitely not.
He’s been here like four nights. I certainly don’t expect him to sit at home with me for Christmas.
“Hey, can I ask you something?” Chase says from the stove, his back to me. I’m certain the ground beef has died three more times since he started cooking it.
“Yeah, sure. You can ask me anything if you come sit down and let me take over dinner,” I say with a grin.
Chase looks at the crispy beef in the pan.
“It’s not supposed to look like that, is it?” he asks.
“Not so much. You didn’t cook a lot growing up, did you?” I ask, taking the spatula from him and turning off the burner.
“More like not at all. Neither did my parents. We had a chef.”
I turn to face him, my brows at my hairline.
“Fancy.”
“Necessary,” Chase corrects. “My parents are both workaholics. If it hadn’t been for Lou, I’d have grown up on cereal.”
“While you’re here, maybe I can teach you a thing or two. I love to cook,” I tell him. “Because of my schedule, I don’t get to do it the way I like to very often, but nothing’s better than pouring a drink and slowly watching a meal come together.”
“Yeah, that sounds nice,” Chase says before silence surrounds us, reminding me he had wanted to ask me something.
“So, what’s on your mind?” I ask, bracing for the worst. It seems I’ve gotten spoiled by him being here. Despite his connection to my past, Chase’s presence makes it bearable in a way it hasn’t been since I ran from it all.
“Well, apparently, Jackson’s girlfriend is pregnant, and when he found out I hadn’t been home because I’ve been staying with you…
” Chase pauses as though he’s gearing up to say something that makes him nervous.
“He sort of asked if I could make this a permanent thing, living here with you, I mean,” he says, just throwing it out there.
“You want to move in with me?” I ask in total shock.
“I mean, I want to keep my apartment, but he’s sort of ruined it for me anyway.
I’ll pay half the rent and utilities and stuff.
And I swear I will never leave my wet towels on the floor.
Hell, we could even look for a bigger place together.
” Chase says. “I guess I just want to know my options. Not having Jackson as a roommate would be seriously awesome, and I don’t know about you, but I feel like the past few days have been pretty easy and comfortable. ”
Chase Matthews, the six-foot-three, jacked, redheaded physician whose daily uniform is a scrub top that strangles his biceps and has a plunging fucking neckline, and who loves bro cuddles, for God’s sake, wants to move in together.
What could go wrong?
“Yeah,” I hear myself say. “Having a roommate could be cool. I could do the house shit while you’re on call, and you could help me out during my on weeks.”
“Yeah?” Chase asks with a grin.
“Yeah, let’s do it.”
At this point, I’ve got nothing to lose… except the only friend I have.