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 notice he's holding a thick paper booklet in one of his hands, one of the ones I saw on the table last night, and my hot shame is outshined by raw curiosity.
“You never told me what you do for a living,” I say.
He looks me over, and I see a slight hesitation in his expression.
He opens his mouth, then closes it again.
And then finally, he speaks.
“I’m an actor.”
He says it like he’s admitting some deep, dark secret. He holds up the booklet. Yard Line Season 2 - Pilot Script is written across the front, in big, bold letters.
“Oh.”
He looks at me like he’s waiting for some further response. But I don’t have one.
“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you earlier, Chase.”
I shrug. “That’s fine. So… you’re in a TV show?”
“You really don’t even know the name? Yard Line?”
I shake my head. “Sorry. Haven’t heard of it.”
Logan’s face breaks out in a wide smile. And it feels like the first glimpse of sunshine I’ve had after this unending, confusing, far-too-long day.
He doesn’t hate that I’m here.
Telling him that I haven’t heard of his show seems to delight him.
“Do you want to come in?” Logan asks. “Tell me if I’m being too forward. I know last night wasn’t exactly something you’ve done before.”
“Damn,” I say softly. “It’s okay to just say you’re obsessed with me, Logan.”
Hi, I’m Chase, and I deflect with humor.
He runs a hand through his hair. “You’re the worst.”
“Are you blushing?”
“Hell if I know,” he says. “I don’t know what I’m doing when I’m around you.”
“And I’m kidding, by the way. I wouldn’t mind if you were obsessed, because I was the one who was disappointed I didn’t see you in the bar.”
“It was too crowded. I walked by, took one glance in, and booked it.”
Something shimmers in my chest. “You stopped by?”
He sighs. “And I wasn’t going to tell you that, either. I’m saying too much to you. Every time I see you, I keep doing that—”
“Logan, I really like it.”
I step in through the small opening next to him, because I’m worried that I’d chicken out if I waited any longer. He opens the door a little wider, stepping to one side to let me in, and when I feel the warmth of his palm on the small of my back, I know I’m completely screwed.
CHAPTER 7
LOGAN
Chase strides in, sets his bookbag down on the table, and plops down on the couch like he’s already made himself at home, and something about seeing him enter my hotel that comfortably makes me feel like I’m more at home here, too.
He leafs through a couple of my scripts, now that he knows the truth.
I like seeing him do it.
It’s like a weight lifts from me, like I’m shedding a cloak, letting him see my life.
Eventually he gets up and grabs the bottle of silver tequila from the bar. He pours himself a shot, tossing it back.
“Okay. Turn on another documentary, because I already know you want to,” he says.
When he comes back to the couch, instead of sitting away from me, he practically drapes his body on top of mine on the long part of the couch. His back presses up against my chest and he lays one of his legs over mine. He leans back against the pillow so his head is beside mine, too.
“Trying to smother me?”
“Is that what it feels like? You’re being smothered?”
I shift underneath him, moving so my arm isn’t pinned under his back. “No. I’m fine with it.”
“What did you do today?” he asks, and as he takes a sip of tequila I watch the way his Adam’s apple moves as he swallows.
“Had some meetings.”
He shifts so that he can glance over at me, raising an eyebrow. “Damn. Good talk, Logan.”
“You want to know about my meetings?”
He shrugs. “I know what you do for a living now. So it’s not like you have to keep a bunch of deep, dark secrets from me, right?”
I hum. “The first meeting was about a potential brand deal with a health food company. They’re making these seltzer drinks that have supplements in them, I think? They wanted to know if I’ll accept the deal.”
“Fancy.”
I snort. “It wasn’t very interesting. But it’s probably worth what they’re paying.”
“How much?”
I glance over at him. Chase doesn’t seem to think it’s at all too personal to ask a virtual stranger about money, and I kind of appreciate how different he is from the actors I know in LA.
“Four hundred thousand for three commercials.”
“Fuck, man,” Chase says. “Yeah. Um. Maybe you should do that.”
“We’ll see.”
He’s silent for a while. I look at the two little tattoos on his finger as brings a hand to my leg, trailing his fingertips up the inside of my thigh. “You had other meetings too?”
“The next one was with a playwright. He wanted to cast me in a small show they’re doing here in the city, but we had to decline. Then the last one was with some actors who were visiting from LA.”