Page 63 of Chase
But it’s real.
Logan is back at the Bellwood Hotel after a year.
Rumors about his stay at the Bellwood started a few weeks ago, and I didn’t believe it at first. He wouldn’t come back here. But I came up to the rooftop about ten minutes ago, when he was slated to arrive, and I saw his driver pull up in the back alley.
And I watched his arrival from up here.
The resulting flood of camera flashes looked like a little lightning storm from twenty stories high. The paparazzi thatused to follow him around has practically tripled in size now, it seems.Yard Linewas very popular a year ago, but now it’s a complete global smash hit.
Being with Logan feels like it was an eternity ago.
But it also feels so fresh it’s like an open wound.
I’m still standing up here ten minutes after the paparazzi flashes have stopped.
I don’t know how it’s possible to feel numb and wired at the same time, but my body is managing it right now.
I don’t know what to feel. Like I just took a still-wet canvas and mixed all the paints together into a murky mess, and I can’t tell what’s what inside me.
You’re really there.
Just down there, twenty stories away.
Maybe even closer, if you’re already upstairs.
The thought gives me goosebumps.
The easy part, after Logan left, was confirming that I’m not straight.
The difficult part was testing the theory. Ornotbeing able to. I hit up gay bars and clubs and I appreciated the way other men looked. They certainly seemed into me, too, and my ego was disgustingly inflated.
I met a young redheaded guy who said I was so hot that he wanted me to put a collar on him and keep him as a pet. On another night, I met a wealthy Portuguese businessman who offered to fly me out to Europe for a week of no-strings sex, which I politely declined. I even saw a guy who used to be a Bellwood bar regular, who asked me if I wanted to take a ride on his handlebar mustache.
All of it was flattering.
And I’m sure I could have even enjoyed hooking up with some of those men, but every time I got close, I went cold and backed out.
Not because they were men.
Because they weren’thim.
My brother told me I’d get over Logan within a few weeks. Well, it’s been over 52 weeks now, and I still have dreams about his cock, or his tight hole I never fucked, or the way his back muscles flexed when I was behind him, watching him come.
Or his eyes. Those are the worst dreams.
I got a taste of him and it reared up a stubborn feeling inside me, and now I’m apparently the greediest bisexual on planet fucking Earth because Ionlywant to fuck a man I can’t have.
And I don’t want to feel anything about that.
I pace back and forth on the rooftop. I pull out my phone, shooting off a text to my brother.
Chase
Any customers come in while I’m on my break?
Julian
A few.
