Total pages in book: 111
Estimated words: 109038 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 545(@200wpm)___ 436(@250wpm)___ 363(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 109038 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 545(@200wpm)___ 436(@250wpm)___ 363(@300wpm)
“I would tell you if I needed help. I’m good, Mom. Surprisingly enough.”
She nods and gestures me in through the living room and into the hall closet with the water heater inside.
For the next half hour, I try to troubleshoot the issue. The pilot light is still on underneath the heater, and there’s no error displaying on it, either. After double-checking instructions online, I know I can’t do anything to fix it.
“Going to have to call Jerome,” I tell her.
She sighs. “I was afraid of that. I don’t get paid again until next Friday.”
“Don’t even think about it. I’ll take care of this.”
“Honey, you can’t afford it either—”
“Hey, I get plenty of good tips. I’m a hot commodity at the bar, you know.”
The truth is that money is always tight for me, but I can’t stand to see Mom worry about money. Since my dad died, she’s lived off of her own income only, and it’s hard to pay everything on just an hourly salary working at the grocery store.
I call Jerome and get an appointment set up for later that afternoon. I give him my card number and prepay for whatever repairs he has to make.
If she actually needs a whole new water heater… well, then I guess I’m going to need to really charm some people at the bar for even better tips.
“Jerome is a wizard,” I tell her before I go. “He’ll know what to do.”
She squeezes my shoulder. “You do seem happy today. Is it the new girlfriend?”
I make a face. “Shit. I forgot to tell you. That’s over.”
“You split up with Madison?” Mom asks.
“Old news.”
Mom laughs. “That means you already have a new girl, doesn’t it?”
I bite my lower lip, considering my options. I certainly wouldn’t be ashamed to tell my mom that I hooked up with a dude last night, but the truth seems a little insane to say.
Yeah, I dared him to get on his knees and then I actually ended up getting him off, too.
Oh, and we were on the roof of my workplace.
Probably not the time or place to be divulging that.
“No new girl,” I tell her. “I’m thinking I might start to open up to other possibilities.”
She nods. “About damn time. That is music to my ears.”
I lift an eyebrow. “Meaning?”
“You need to meet a girl who has a good head on her shoulders. One who will treat you kindly. Not like these other girls who rip right through you. You’re worth more.”
I snort. “For fuck’s sake, Mom.”
“What? I know I have a handsome son. Sue me.”
“Alright, alright. I need to leave. I’ll make sure Jerome is here by this afternoon. If he doesn’t show up at four o’clock on the dot, call me and I’ll call him.”
“I love you, Chase.”
“Love you too, Mom.”
The subway trip back into the heart of the city is brutal. It’s even busier than earlier, and afterward I have to run home in the rain to put on my uniform, then run the whole way to the Bellwood from my apartment.
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 that isn’t him, 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 says 20. 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.