Page 37 of Chase
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 thatisn’thim, 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 says20.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 Scriptis 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?”
