Jeremiah #2
Chase doesn’t listen to me. Instead, he brushes past me and beelines it down past the living room and down the hallway.
“Chase, I’m going.” I call out as a whisper.
Silence.
I wait a few seconds. Still nothing.
Whatever, there’s no reason why I’m still here anyway. He’s home. He’s safe. My conscience is clear.
Yet, right before I turn to leave, I hear a loud bang and a muffled groan.
What the actual hell?
Before I think better of it, I rush down the hallway, following the direction of the noise. Soon I’m at what I can only assume is his bedroom.
The first thing I see is the mess that Chase has himself in. There he is, halfway off the bed in a clear attempt of taking off his shirt and failing miserably.
“Aaargh.”
His muffled groan comes from somewhere beneath the fabric prison of his shirt, currently stuck halfway over his head like a makeshift blindfold. Chase had apparently decided to wrestle it off—drunkenly—and lost.
Why he decided to take his button-up off like this, I’ll never know.
I lean against the doorframe, arms crossed, watching the show as he twists and turns, trying to free himself.
I try to bite back a smile, but fail miserably. “You okay there?”
He groans again, flopping limp on his bed, clearly exasperated. “I had a system,” he pants, breathlessly.
“Oh, yeah? And how’s that system going for you?”
“Not well,” he whimpers.
Admitting defeat, I stride over to him and pick him up from under his arms. Setting him back properly on the bed, I help him slide off his shirt the rest of the way.
Of course, trying to ignore the way his abs clench and tighten as he stretches. I toss his shirt to the side, standing up straight as I look at the hard curves of his body.
Shit! I’ve been staring down at his body this entire time. Chase doesn’t seem bothered at all by this. I look down at him as he stares up at me with something fairly close to admiration in his eyes.
I swallow thickly, looking away.
Seriously, pick up my feet and walk towards the door.
But, it’s like he has this pull on me. What’s the harm in looking, anyways? I’m not doing anything.
No. I’m his boss. I really should leave.
But, he’s still staring at me and I’d like to find out why before I leave. I guess, for science? I don’t fucking know. It’s like everything in my body is telling me to stay just a moment longer.
My eyes drag back to his body. His brown hair is a mess, flopped all around his head. Truthfully, he looks adorable as his eyes wander over my face.
A smile tugs at my lips. “What do you keep staring at?”
“You look pretty like this,” he says, low and quiet.
My brows furrow. “Pretty?” I huff out a laugh. Strange way to put it. “Why? What am I doing?”
He blinks slowly. “Looking at me like you actually like me back.”
My breath hitches.
Shit. This is too much.
It’s only then when I realize I’m standing in between his legs. “I really shouldn’t be here. I should go.”
“No,” Chase sits up, wrapping his arms around me, burying his face into my lap.
I gasp, grasping his forearms.
“Oh shit, Chase. You can’t do that. Chase, you’ve got to stop,” I ramble, struggling to back up out of his grip. But, his arms tighten around my waist like it’s the most comfortable place he’s ever been.
“Please don’t go,” he begs softly. “I like you being here,” he mutters. I feel his cheek on the edge of my dick in my pants, and I swear to God, if he moves another inch, we’ll both get a very uncomfortable surprise.
I grip his arms, but I’m careful not to push him too hard. Damn, I know I should push him off. But, if I’m being honest with myself, hearing him beg me to stay is making me want to do the exact opposite of what I should do.
I close my eyes tightly and try to replay the many reasons I should walk out this door.
He’s drunk.
I’m his boss.
I hate him.
I look down at his brown, silky hair. My fingers tingle. I’d give anything right now to run my hands through his hair. It’s right there. No one would know if I simply just…ran my fingers through his hair.
Dammit, I’d know and that’d be fucked up.
Fuck! I’m making it sound like I’m doing something seriously wrong here. I’m not. I’m just…contemplating running my hands through his hair.
I roll my eyes, yet again. This is so damn stupid.
“Please, just stay until I fall asleep.” His warm breath seeps into the cloth of my pants. My whole body feels like it’s on fire.
“Let go, Chase,” I order him again. He listens to me this time, flopping back softly on the bed.
His hand drifts in front of him though as he lands and it takes me a second to realize that our fingers are now tangling with each other.
As though he’s reaching out to me and my body has no choice but to reach back.
I squeeze my eyes shut and attempt to pull my hand away, but he grips hard so I can’t.
“Stay,” he whispers. There’s something sad in his eyes. It makes my heart ache. I want to squeeze him, hold him and tell him everything’s alright. And those thoughts shock me to my core.
Because this is Chase Rutherford. And while my feelings about that fact are starting to mess with my head, he’s still and always will be the man that made my life a living hell in school.
“Why were you so mean to me back then?” I blurt. The need to know is almost as powerful as the want to stay.
Chase’s brows pinch, his fingers tightening around mine.
“Why Theo?” he sneers.
I stare blankly at him as my thoughts tangle.
“Theo? Theo Hart? What about him?”
“He was the only one you’d talk to.” Chase shakes his head, dropping my hand.
I scoff. “He was the only one nice to me.” He can’t be serious. And yet, I see the pain on his face which makes me confused. Why would me being friends with Theo matter?
“I wanted to be nice to you, Jeremiah,” he bites back. Turning his face into the bed, the rest comes out in a garbled mess. But I hear faintly, “I would’ve been so nice to you.”
I glare at him, frustration rippling through me as so many unanswered questions pile up inside.
What’d he mean by ‘wanted’ and ‘would’ve’? Was something or someone stopping him from being nice to me?
“Wait, talk to me.” I crowd over him, shaking his shoulders. I pull at his arm to try to get him to turn onto his back but the soft putters coming from his lips tells me that he has fallen asleep.
“Are you fucking serious?” I huff, running my hand through my hair.
I shouldn’t have even come up here. I look at his sleeping limp body as he’s twisted and contorted on top of his sheets.
“Jesus fucking Christ,” I exhale.
Cupping my hands under his arms, I drag Chase up further onto his bed, until his head hits his pillows. I slip his blanket out from under him and tuck him in gently. I will not be undressing him anymore than he already is. That’s where I draw the line.
Turning him on his side to be safe, I make sure his small trash can that I find in the corner of the room is beside his bed so if he needs to be sick, there’s not a far distance he has to go.
Inhaling a long breath, I take a second to look at his room. Sadness flutters over me as I realize his room is as bare as the rest of his apartment. His forest green duvet is the liveliest thing in here. He really needs to decorate. It’s important to take pride in what you own.
I open his bedroom door and I’m careful to shut it behind me. I don’t want to wake him or his roommate.
“Oh shit.” A voice sounds from behind me. My heart skips a beat as panic rushes through me.
“Holy shit, you scared me,” I say, breathless, holding my chest.
“Whoa, Chase sleeps with guys now? Who would’ve thought.” The mysterious figure laughs into what looks like a bowl of cereal.
“We’re not sleeping together, I’m his boss. I was just getting him home safely after our work party.” I state, fixing my shirt.
“Huh. Boring.” The guy shrugs. “Well, I’ll lock the door on your way out,” he sighs, following me into the hallway.
“Thanks,” I mutter.
“What’d you say your name was? Just in case Chase is in his room butchered into a million pieces and the cops ask me who did it.”
Fair enough. “Jeremiah Blackwood.”
The guy stops in his tracks. “No fucking way.” He immediately flicks the light on the wall beside us. “Jeremiah? It’s me. Ryan Lockwood.”
My face drops. Ryan fucking Lockwood is Chase’s roommate?
Figures he’d still be friends with another person that tormented me.
“Huh.” Is the only thing that escapes my mouth.
Ryan laughs. Honestly, he looks the exact same. Hasn’t changed at all.
“Dude, this is so funny. Small world. And you’re Chase’s new boss?” Ryan stuffs his mouth with another spoonful of cereal. Milk dips down his chin. “This is too good.” He shakes his head, chewing obnoxiously.
“Yeah, well. I’m going to head out so—”
“Hey, give him a hard time at work for me, would you? He’s a pain in my ass.” Ryan laughs, waving me off.
My lips press together as I give him a sharp nod. I leave the apartment feeling more frustrated than ever.