Jeremiah
Chase
Insomnia by The Moss
Focusing at work, for the rest of the day, wasn’t happening. If I'm being completely honest with myself, I was tossing and turning all night, completely restless.
This is not who I am. I am not the kind of dude who sits around waiting for a text— especially not from another dude. Maybe from my boss, sure. But this? This feels different.
Why the hell does it feel so different?
Fuck, if I know. I need to clear my head.
It’s early morning, the sun hasn’t even fully come up yet, and Ryan is still sleeping so the house is perfectly quiet.
I finish scooping out Honey’s litter box and giving her morning cuddles.
I can’t spend all day inside waiting for his message so I might as well just stick to my normal Saturday routine.
The only thing that would make this morning even better would be to go for a run.
So, I slip on my sneakers, and my AirPods, pop on my black Blue Jays baseball hat, omitting a shirt because of the scorching hot weather, and make my way down to the sidewalk.
Making my way passing by the park, farmers markets, and busy waterfronts, I end up running for a little longer than I was planning to.
But I can’t help it. All I can think about is the way he looked the other day, commanding the room in his office.
Leaning back, nonchalant, like the world is just… background noise.
Tapping his little black pen on the desk, like he doesn’t have enough time but somehow slows it down simultaneously. The way his index finger rests gently on his bottom lip—not enough to pull, just enough to… soothe himself.
I can’t shake it. Everything about him is perfect—so perfect it drives me mad. And I can’t figure out if I want to be on him, under him, or both. It’s infuriating. It’s intoxicating.
It’s gotta be just lust. I’m hornier than I’ve ever been and what’s even weirder is that I haven’t even done anything about it. No dating apps. No late night bar runs. Nothing.
The sun is slowly coming up and the heat is only getting hotter.
I round another corner, lungs burning, chest slick with sweat as music blares in my ears.
I’m trying to zone into this song by The Moss.
But even the lyrics about not being able to eat or sleep is itching under my skin and bringing me right back to what I’m running away from.
It’s his face, his hands, his damn posture that I can’t escape. Why does he have me so far in my head?
Oh great. Just when I thought I couldn't get anymore crazy, I swear I can see a man who looks just like him walking on the other side of the street.
I slow my pace and squint my eyes. It’s hard to make out whether or not between all the passersby but I swear, that’s his sharp jawline and black hair dripping into his face underneath a gray hoodie.
Jeremiah’s doppelganger is wearing black shorts and carrying a black duffel bag strapped over his arm.
I watch the oncoming cars and carefully make my way across the street towards him. It has to be him. For some reason, I can just feel it. Like there’s this…invisible string telling me he’s close.
He hasn’t seen me yet, and I’m careful to keep it that way. Walking far enough behind, I focus on keeping my eye on his rigid back so I keep unseen.
Rounding the corner, he takes a turn down an alley and this is where I’m questioning all my life decisions. Who just follows someone down a dark alley? What the hell am I even doing? This is 10/10 stalker behavior. But my curiosity of why Jeremiah would be down here burns more.
There are a few doors down this alleyway leading to the backdoor to other shops. We pass the backdoor to a tattoo parlor and a motor repair store and finally, Jeremiah turns at an unmarked door and tugs on the handle, swinging it open.
I push myself closer against the brick wall so he can’t see me and once he makes his way inside, I creep closer. My heart is pounding out of my chest. What could it be in there?
I need to know. What if he’s a secret mobster? What if he’s involved in some pretty dark shit. That explains all the bruising and cuts he always comes into work with. Oh, shit. What if he’s in trouble? My heart plummets. Now I really want to know.
Tugging on the handle, I swing open the heavy metal door, revealing a room I never thought I’d see when thinking of Jeremiah Blackwood.
I can immediately tell by the scent of sweat and leather quickly filling my nostrils what this is.
It’s spacious but small. The black floors feel cold beneath my sneakers, and the walls—lined with mirrors from floor to ceiling.
This is unlike any gym that I’ve ever been in.
It’s different with its industrial ceiling and exposed pipes.
My eyes focus on the center of the gym. That’s when my heart skips a beat.
Four boxing rings stand, their ropes tight and ready for action, while beautiful white graffiti snakes across the sides with sharp lines and bold designs.
I zone into the punching bags swaying along the sides of the gym and boxing dummies that stand stiff.
Holy shit. This is really fucking cool.
By the time my eyes look for Jeremiah, I see he’s already across the room. Off to the left, a familiar looking older muscular man comes out of a nearby office. Seriously!? This just turned into the best day ever.
“Jeremiah! My boy—” He smiles, coming to meet him with a pat on his back. Before they can finish their greeting, the man’s eyes flicker over to me.
I only realize now that I’ve been standing in the middle of this gym, awestruck, sweaty and topless. I must look like a mad man.
The man’s mouth tilts into a smile. “Looks like you brought a friend.”
My brows raise but before I can answer, Jeremiah turns suddenly to see me. Confusion is written all over his face as he looks me up and down. I feel embarrassed that I followed him but before that feeling settles, a slow smile that spreads on his face quickly calms me down.
“Looks like I did,” he answers simply, shifting his duffle bag off his shoulder and onto the ground.
“Coach Reggie.” The man says walking over to me. We shake hands and I give him a small laugh.
“Chase Rutherford and I know who you are. Reggie “The Hammer” Dalton. I’ve seen you in the ring. Brutal ground work, man. You really killed the game.” I love watching MMA and Reggie here was a powerhouse before his retirement.
He lets out a deep belly laugh, giving me a tight hold on my shoulder. “Killed it until it killed my knee.”
“All or nothing, am I right?” I shake my head, smiling. Reggie’s laugh booms through me as he gives me another slap on the back.
“Jeremiah, I like this kid. Where have you been hiding this one?” He chuckles, tapping me on the chest.
Jeremiah’s mouth opens to answer but nothing comes out. Right, this may be really weird for him. What am I doing here?
“I was just running through the city and I saw Jeremiah slip in here. Had to find out what my boss was up to.” I don’t know what comes over me but I add in a wink.
Jeremiah’s eyes widen at the gesture, making my cheeks burn.
“Well, don’t just stand there.” Coach Reggie nods to Jeremiah. “Get him ready and get in there,” he says, clapping his hands together.
“What?” Jeremiah and I both say in unison.
“I was going to have you spar anyways with one of the youngins. Might as well show Chase here what you’re made out of.” Coach Reggie says, walking away. “Show him who’s boss.” he calls out.
Can my cheeks get any redder? I turn back to look at Jeremiah who’s eyes shift from his coaches back to me.
Finally, his back straightens and his jaw clenches. “You heard the man,” he says, tilting his chin. “Get your ass in the ring, Rutherford.”