It feels like I’ve lived three lifetimes in the span of the year that I’ve been away from Chase. When I won a couple of Emmys, the tenor of my fame changed, and the media veered away from calling me a “heartthrob” and started calling me “the most sought-after actor of the new era.”
I started therapy shortly after going back to LA, too, specifically focused on a sort of gentle exposure therapy, where a lovely woman named Leslie helped me grapple with my rapid fame. I learned how to make better small talk. I spoke to other actors, heard their stories, andslowlyfelt less alone.
My co-star Charlie has become a good friend to me, and the press is less inclined to rumor-monger about us now.
The mediahasmistakenly been spreading rumors about me dating an actress, lately, but…
All of that floats away when I’m near Chase.
Last year, it felt like I was ignoring the rest of my world when we were together. But right now it just feels like it’s going into soft focus behind him. He’s always commanded my attention. It would be impossible for him not to.
The thing about Chase is that he doesn’t just wear his heart on his sleeve, though.
He wears it all over his whole fuckingbeing.
He’s leaning there against the shelves now, trying to act casual as he grabs a little sugar packet from behind him and taps at it over and over.
He’s probably dying to touch me. I know him well enough to know that.
“You can talk to me,” I offer. “I know you want to say something.”
He shrugs. “I’m good. Just wanted you to have my card.”
“You’re still looking at me like you’re staring off that fucking rooftop, Chase.”
“Nope. I’m fine.”
I look down, trying to bite back a smile. “Right.”
"Look, we both got it out of our systems, okay?” Chase finally blurts out. “I’m not so desperate for cock that I’m going to throw myself at you just because you’re in the penthouse again.”
“But you told me you were considering coming up to my room last night.”
“Because I just wanted to give you my card.”
“I see.”
“You don’t believe me?”
“Not even a little bit.”
He lets out a frustrated groan, pacing down the hall a littleand then looping back around toward me. “Yeah, this is going to be easier than I thought. I forgot how irritating you can be.”
“I forgot how fired up you get when I call you on your shit.”
He holds up a middle finger to me, but behind it, I can see him hiding a smile.
“Just tell me you’ll check out my art?”
“Of course I will.”
I glance down the hall and at the very end, I can see a group of people that asked for my autograph earlier waiting near the elevator bay. I stand up a little straighter, remembering the rest of my life all at once.
“Who’s that?” Chase asks.
“Fans.”
They’re waiting for the elevator right now, facing the other direction, but if they turned around, they’d see us.
