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)
But sex is sex.
It makes people do wild things. Get obsessive. Addictive.
I open up my phone and there are dozens of notifications, as always.
I scroll through my messages and see that none of them are from Chase, and my chest falls a little.
I open our messages, tapping one out.
I try a few different drafts, never pressing send:
Logan
I still can’t believe we did that.
Fuck me again the night I get back?
I miss you already. Is that too much to say?
I miss you.
Do you even like exclusive relationships? Do you do commitment, or just rough, possessive sex? Are you willing to actually date someone who is bombarded by cameras in crowds every time you leave your front door? Do you *want* this life, Chase? Is any of it fucking worth it? Am I an idiot for bringing you into it at all?
…Did “mine” mean for a long time, or just for now?
I never send a single one of them.
I hit the delete button, erasing the letters on the screen more rapidly every time. I slide my phone back into my pocket, sending nothing.
CHAPTER 24
CHASE
“Chase,” Julian says as he strides into my room. “You going to fucking talk to me about this?”
I glance up from my laptop, where I’m editing Logan’s photos I’ve scanned in, to see Julian holding out his cell phone up to my face.
The picture at the center of the screen is of me and Logan.
I shut my laptop, reaching out to grab Julian’s phone.
“Holy shit. How many fucking comments and likes does this have?”
“Millions of people have seen it already, Chase. Now talk.”
Julian is pissed and I instantly know why. It’s a photo from last night at the gallery show, and it shows me and Logan sitting at the bar, posing for the camera. But on the bar between us, there are multiple beer bottles, wine glasses, and shot glasses. Someone even had their pack of cigarettes out on the bar, too.
I scroll through some of the comments and most of them are pretty innocuous, just talking about how hot Logan is. But some of them seem very curious about me, too.
“Jules,” I tell him. “I know how this sounds, but none of that shit on the bar was mine.”
He gives me a cold stare. “You just happened to be sitting in front of it all? Who the fuck leaves half-full glasses like that?”
“People at gallery openings do, all of the time.”
He exhales. “Can I trust you?”
My heart twists in my chest. “You know what? I’m tired of this. Trust me or don’t, Julian. I don’t care anymore.”
He grabs his phone from my hand, more pissed now. “Honestly, I do believe you. I believe that the drinks aren’t yours, and I know people sometimes leave their empty packs of cigarettes on bar tops. I trust that you’re not going to relapse, and that you’re telling me the truth about last night. But I don’t trust you with him.”
I stand up, moving toward the door to leave.
But he blocks my way, holding out his arm like a bar.
“Get off of me,” I mutter, shoving him.
He shoves me back, the same way we used to fight as kids. “No. You need to talk to me. What are you doing with him?”
“Why do you care so much?”
“Because I’m going to be the one picking up the pieces when you go off the deep end,” Julian says. “Because I always am. When Logan inevitably goes back to Los Angeles, am I going to get a call that you’re in the hospital?”
“So you do think I’m going to relapse, huh?”
“Maybe not with substances. Maybe just with hurting yourself. Hating yourself, when this fucking implodes.”
“Damn. You’re already betting against me and this thing with Logan has barely even begun.”
Julian puffs out a bitter laugh. “See? You’re referring to it as a thing. It’s not even serious, is it, Chase?”
“Maybe it fucking will be,” I tell him firmly. “You’d rather cut me off before I even get a chance to try?”
He pauses for a moment, silence hanging in the air in a way that feels like it’s suffocating me.
“After Logan left last year, I thought you were going to self-destruct—”
“Of course you did.”
“Let me talk. I thought you were going to self-destruct but instead, I saw you become the strongest, most stable version of yourself I’ve ever seen. Your art is incredible. You’re dedicated. Hell, even in the fucking gym, you’ve been unstoppable. And it’s sure been a while since I had to rescue you from a hospital bed, too.”
“You’re trying to say I’m better when I’m not around Logan?”
“I’m trying to say I don’t want you to lose yourself again,” he tells me. “I couldn’t take it. Mom couldn’t take it.”
“Don’t use Mom to try to guilt-trip me. Mom would fucking love Logan, and you know I’m right. She’s practically Yard Line’s number one fan.”