Page 1 of Chase
CHAPTER 1
LOGAN
I knew it would be a bad idea to come to the bar in broad daylight. Thinking with my dick is never the best choice, but it doesn’t ever seem to stop me.
The bartender has been staring at me. The Bellwood Hotel lounge is luxurious and private, and IthoughtI could escape fans and paparazzi and stay on the down low, but for the last ten minutes the young bartender’s eyes have been following me like he’s the goddamn Mona Lisa.
I know he recognizes me from TV.
A flash of sunlight reflects off a glass on the bar top and I wince a little, a jolt of adrenaline hitting my spine.
Chill out.
Act normal.
It wasn’t a camera flash, and it wasn't paparazzi.
I’m so on guard now that any flash will make me flinch worse than actual pain, apparently. I shift on the buttery-soft leather booth seat and swirl the Scotch I’ve been nursing for a while now, watching the golden liquid glint in the sun.
I’m halfway through this neat pour of liquor and it’s only 2 o’clock, which was another questionable decision. But it’smy first day off all month, and I got greedy when I thought I might be able to find a casual quickie in a place like this.
Then the bartender started focusing on me.
Intently.
And I realized it’s stupid to think I can be anonymous anymore.
I open my phone and see the punishing notification circle above my messages.
341 unread texts, and my email is tenfold worse.
I tap into my messages with Emily, ignoring the angry red dots.
Logan
Is it still considered thinking with your dick if you aren’t acting on your thoughts?
Emily
If you end up fucking someone, yes. If you’re just looking… still yes, I think.
I’m just looking. Probably.
I grin at the message and lock my phone again.
My manager Emily has been the brightest spot through all this. She’s been my friend for much longer than I’ve been famous, and I’d trust Emily with anything. She’s one of the only people who hasn’t started treating me differently now that my career exploded.
I gaze back up at the bartender.
I’ve been waiting for him to come ask for a selfie.
He pushes his dark hair to one side and his cheekbones stand out in the afternoon sun, like he’s trying to show off how good he looks. He’s young, and my TV show,Yard Line, is massively popular with with men in their early twenties, so he’s probably a fan.
I’ve stopped trying to hide that I’m staring back.
If he’s too proud to come up and ask for my autograph, I’m at least going to enjoy the eye candy.
He knocks over a small stack of paper coasters and a few fall onto the floor.
