6. Chase #3
I call Jerome and get an appointment set up for later that afternoon. I give him my card number and prepay for whatever repairs he has to make.
If she actually needs a whole new water heater… well, then I guess I’m going to need to really charm some people at the bar for even better tips.
“Jerome is a wizard,” I tell her before I go. “He’ll know what to do.”
She squeezes my shoulder. “You do seem happy today. Is it the new girlfriend?”
I make a face. “Shit. I forgot to tell you. That’s over.”
“You split up with Madison?” Mom asks.
“Old news.”
Mom laughs. “That means you already have a new girl, doesn’t it?”
I bite my lower lip, considering my options. I certainly wouldn’t be ashamed to tell my mom that I hooked up with a dude last night, but the truth seems a little insane to say.
Yeah, I dared him to get on his knees and then I actually ended up getting him off, too.
Oh, and we were on the roof of my workplace.
Probably not the time or place to be divulging that.
“No new girl,” I tell her. “I’m thinking I might start to open up to other possibilities.”
She nods. “About damn time. That is music to my ears.”
I lift an eyebrow. “Meaning?”
“You need to meet a girl who has a good head on her shoulders. One who will treat you kindly. Not like these other girls who rip right through you. You’re worth more.”
I snort. “For fuck’s sake, Mom.”
“What? I know I have a handsome son. Sue me.”
“Alright, alright. I need to leave. I’ll make sure Jerome is here by this afternoon. If he doesn’t show up at four o’clock on the dot, call me and I’ll call him.”
“I love you, Chase.”
“Love you too, Mom.”
The subway trip back into the heart of the city is brutal. It’s even busier than earlier, and afterward I have to run home in the rain to put on my uniform, then run the whole way to the Bellwood from my apartment.
I make it in time for my shift by a minute.
For hours, the bar is swamped with people from a corporate retreat. Even though it’s packed, my eyes keep drifting toward the entrance, looking to see when Logan will show up.
I don’t even realize I’m looking for him, at first.
But with each person who walks through that isn’t him, I find myself draining like a battery losing power.
It was a one-night deal, I remind myself.
I don’t even know what I would want.
Would I expect him to come chat with me at the bar? Toss me his phone number? Beg for my cock again?
By the end of my shift my mood has crashed.
When I pass by the elevator bay after closing up the bar, I act on pure impulse, walking over and pushing the button to go up.
I adjust the strap of my bookbag on my shoulder, nervously, over and over.
A low buzz fills my body as I take the elevator up, up, and up, until the little number on the screen says 20.
I walk down the hall and knock on the big door to his suite, once, and then twice. Finally, it swings open slowly.
Logan’s there in grey sweatpants and a tight, white T-shirt that hugs his muscles in a way that makes him look like an off-duty superhero.
“Didn’t want any Scotch tonight?” I ask.
“I had it up here alone,” he says.
“Oh.” Realization hits me slowly.
He purposely didn’t want to see me again.
For me, last night was a wild, fun shock to my system, but maybe for him, it’s already become a regret. I feel a little bit crazy for expecting anything different.
Not everyone is touch-crazy like me.
Not everyone is… obsessive.
“Are you okay, Chase?” he asks, shifting on his feet. Now suddenly I feel like he’s giving me that concerned look I saw on my mom’s face earlier, the kind I absolutely hate. It’s too close to pity. And I can’t fucking stand being the target of anyone’s pity.
I notice he's holding a thick paper booklet in one of his hands, one of the ones I saw on the table last night, and my hot shame is outshined by raw curiosity.
“You never told me what you do for a living,” I say.
He looks me over, and I see a slight hesitation in his expression.
He opens his mouth, then closes it again.
And then finally, he speaks.
“I’m an actor.”
He says it like he’s admitting some deep, dark secret. He holds up the booklet. Yard Line Season 2 - Pilot Script is written across the front, in big, bold letters.
“Oh.”
He looks at me like he’s waiting for some further response. But I don’t have one.
“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you earlier, Chase.”
I shrug. “That’s fine. So… you’re in a TV show?”
“You really don’t even know the name? Yard Line?”
I shake my head. “Sorry. Haven’t heard of it.”
Logan’s face breaks out in a wide smile. And it feels like the first glimpse of sunshine I’ve had after this unending, confusing, far-too-long day.
He doesn’t hate that I’m here.
Telling him that I haven’t heard of his show seems to delight him.
“Do you want to come in?” Logan asks. “Tell me if I’m being too forward. I know last night wasn’t exactly something you’ve done before.”
“Damn,” I say softly. “It’s okay to just say you’re obsessed with me, Logan.”
Hi, I’m Chase, and I deflect with humor.
He runs a hand through his hair. “You’re the worst.”
“Are you blushing?”
“Hell if I know,” he says. “I don’t know what I’m doing when I’m around you.”
“And I’m kidding, by the way. I wouldn’t mind if you were obsessed, because I was the one who was disappointed I didn’t see you in the bar.”
“It was too crowded. I walked by, took one glance in, and booked it.”
Something shimmers in my chest. “You stopped by?”
He sighs. “And I wasn’t going to tell you that, either. I’m saying too much to you. Every time I see you, I keep doing that—”
“Logan, I really like it.”
I step in through the small opening next to him, because I’m worried that I’d chicken out if I waited any longer. He opens the door a little wider, stepping to one side to let me in, and when I feel the warmth of his palm on the small of my back, I know I’m completely screwed.