Page 72 of Asystole

Logan

Six whole days pass before Chase and I find ourselves at home without one of us needing to rush out the door. Unfortunately, time has done nothing to dull the throb in my cock from the eye-fucking Chase gave me in the stairwell.

It’s starting to get so bad, I swear I can smell him when I climb into bed.

I’ve finally made it to the end of my on-week, and Chase is enjoying his first day off in a long while.

I wake up around noon, trying not to completely sabotage my sleep schedule during my off-week while still wanting to wake up early enough to enjoy some normal hours of daylight.

When I turn the corner into the living room, Chase is on the couch with his laptop open, chewing on the end of a pen as I pass through the living room on my way to the kitchen.

“You know you’re supposed to do fun shit on your days off, right? Not work more,” I tell him.

He looks up at me, and I swear the light in his eyes damn near makes my knees buckle.

“Logan!” he says excitedly. “I was getting ready to come shake you awake.”

The last thing I need is Chase Matthews anywhere near my bed.

“That would not have ended well for you,” I deadpan, moving to the cabinet to grab a mug for the coffee mercifully still in the pot.

I hear Chase chuckle as his fingers brush over his keyboard.

“Oh, please. I weigh twice as much as you. If I went limp noodle on you, you’d be fucked.”

“If you went limp noodle on me, there’s a good chance I’d go stiff noodle on you, and then you’d be fucked,” I grumble, bringing the coffee mug to my lips.

Chase lets out a loud bark of laughter from the living room.

I’m glad to see he’s in a much better mood than he has been, but I approach him cautiously anyway.

“Get in here. I want to show you some stuff,” he says, cheerfully ignoring my comment made out of sexual frustration. “Besides, we’re both supposed to do something fun when we get a day off. Remember?”

“Yeah, we see how well that worked out,” I reply.

I slowly move into the living room, taking a seat in the recliner that came with the rest of his stuff. The living room is so small you can’t actually recline in it, but at least I can’t be as distracted by his pheromones from over here.

Raising his eyes to mine, he says, “Dude. How am I supposed to show you these townhouses Vee sent me when you’re all the way over there?”

Sighing, I decide the time has come.

“Before we talk about moving and buying a place together and whatever-the-hell else, we need to clear the air about that kiss, Chase.”

Chase closes his laptop and focuses all his attention on me.

“Okay, yeah. You’re right,” he says, picking at lint on his sweatpants. “I really like living with you, and I’m sorry I messed things up by pushing it. I don’t know what’s gotten into me lately. I’m doing my best to forget it happened.”

Deciding that holding back won’t be helpful for either of us, I let the truth fly.

“Here’s why that won’t work,” I start. “For starters, your face broadcasts your thoughts like a fucking billboard,” I tell him.

His head jerks back, and his eyebrows knit together, fully displaying his disagreement, confusion, and defensiveness, confirming my statement.

“What does that even mean?” he asks.

“It means when I wear something, say something, or do something you like, your face gives you away.”

He shrugs.