The Chase

Hey Guys! After taking a little break after my last story, I decided to revisit one that I somewhat abandoned back in 2013. Here's the continuation of "The Chase"- six years later. I'd suggest going back reading the first two chapters to get the basics of the characters and their dynamic. Thanks to everyone who commented on those submissions. Let me know what you guys think.

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Chapter 3: The two constants in Griffin's life

GRIFFIN

I left Derek's room and slumped back to my dorm- doing the worst impression of a "walk of shame" that this college had ever seen. Once I opened the doors of his building, the fading sunlight hit me like an x-ray, examining everything about me right down to the faint smell of sex that oozed off my skin.

I felt dirty- knowing full well that I was rolling around with some dude I barely knew just a few minutes ago. God, I could picture Chase's face right now- criticizing my actions like he always did. He really was a nagging parent at times. Yet something about this time felt different than it did before. Yesterday, it was like the two of us were trying to shed our old selves in the name of growth- and yet here I was, crawling back to that shell of a guy I promised him I'd grow out of. For both of our sakes, I'll keep this incident to myself.

My body practically unraveled once I hit the bed. In miles of sheets and two large pillows, I felt my tiredness creep in as if staying up 'til 2am and fucking the brains out of some dude this afternoon was my equivalent of running a triathlon. I tried desperately to fall asleep, but the eyes wouldn't have it. And so, I lay there, waiting for that creeping feeling to reenter my body as it always did.

Loneliness.

That's the one constant in my life, other than Chase of course. And it's been here for as long as I can remember. It's a twisted little fucker- taking the shape of every guy I've been physical with and filling that void for a temporary amount of time. Every hook up is like getting a dose of intimacy that lasts me for a good bit of time before my old friend comes back to see what else it can ruin. It's been like this for a while- even before I came to college- except here I didn't have to worry about my mom walking in or trying to find another remotely curious guy in my backwards small town. In the age of college experimentation and the subtle art of not giving a fuck, my old habits intensified. And so did the loneliness.

I eventually do fall asleep but only for about an hour or so until I get woken up by a call from home.

"Hello?" I say, trying to mask my grogginess.

"Don't tell me you were asleep. Jesus, Griffin, it's nearly seven."

I roll my eyes hard, wondering if she can tell on the other end. "Hello to you too, mom."

"Mhmm" she replies, in that classic southern sass that drove my grandparents up the walls. And yet she wonders where I get it from. "Please tell me you left your room at least once today." She asked as I hear her fiddling with some dishes in the background.

I lie. "Yeah it was just a busy shift this afternoon so I'm pretty beat."

There's a pause and I can hear her loading up the dishwasher- presumably with dishes she already washed and are leaving there to dry. I hear her grab the phone, "You better not be working too hard. Look hun, if you need some money, all you have to do is ask."

"Nah ma, I'm good- trust me. I just like keeping busy, you know?" That one is the truth.

"Alright, well you take care of yourself now. And Griffin, the next time we talk, it better be you picking up the phone and dialing here."

"Yes ma'am" I say, instinctively before catching myself.

Mom lets out a pleased sound before yelling out, "Adam!" so loud that I'm pretty sure my upstairs neighbors could hear. I can just picture my little brother sighing, the same way I do as he rushes out of his room and heads downstairs to face our mom.

"Yeah mom?"

"Come here and say hello to your brother while I set the table."

They fiddle with the phone for a bit before I hear his voice on the other end. It's deeper than I remember, and it makes me think that maybe she's right and I haven't phoned home in a while.

"Hey Griff."

"How's it going little bro?" I ask, standing up from my bed and heading over to the dresser to get changed.

"Doing ok. Mom's been riding me about school, but I'm sure you know what that's like."

I chuckle as I pull out a fresh shirt from the closet and a pair of jeans that I used once a few days ago. "Think of it this way- before you came along, I was the one she focused all her nagging on. And so now, you get only half of what I used to get."

"I'm not gonna thank you, if that's what you're after."

"Well, you're welcome anyway." That elicits a laugh from him- which for a teenager is a success on my end.

"So you're coming home for Thanksgiving, yeah?"

I slip into the jeans while balancing the phone on my shoulder. Buttoning them up, I reply, "Yup. I don't have class on Wednesdays this semester so I'll be up Tuesday night at the latest. Why, do you miss me already?"

"Well yeah" he says, without any ounce of his usual sarcasm. Adam pauses for a sec, as if trying to get out of earshot from our mom. "Mom also threw out the idea of having her new boyfriend spend Thanksgiving with us. Apparently he's divorced and his kids usually spend Thanksgiving with their mom."

I sigh- hopefully not loud enough for Adam to notice.

This is the fourth guy she's brought around since I left last year and each of them have been total duds from what I gather. Adam's pretty good at keeping me in the loop for the long months I go without seeing them. And after the eventual fall out, it usually only takes a simple phone call (and a few glasses of wine) to get my mom to spill on how the latest guy was a complete dick and waste of her time. It's a recurring show, really- one of those television programs that's so formulaic- you can pretty much guess the ending right off the bat.

It's been like this since I started high school- the constant revolving door of men that my mom tries out like they're flavors in an ice cream shop. For the most part, she tends to go for the most vanilla guy there is- which often leads to a bunch of awkward encounters and failed attempts at trying to win us boys over.

A little after Adam was born, our dad up and left- without so much as a goodbye to either of us. Mom almost never brings it up, and out of respect for her and what she went through- neither of us ever ask. In many ways, he's just a sperm donor to us with mom playing both starring roles in a way that deserves every award there is. I guess that's why her slew of mediocre guys is something that doesn't sit well with me- it's because I know that she deserves a lot better than that. Adam's not old enough to know her any other way, and so I take it upon myself to remind him.

"Is this new one any good?" I ask, slipping on my shoes.

"I mean he's not terrible." My brother says, truthfully. "He's nice, but I feel like he's over-doing it, you know? He says he wants to take us out to a Mariners game the next time you're home. And this is after I told him that we don't follow baseball."

"Well if he does make it 'til Thanksgiving, at least we'll both be dealing with him together. I'm not gonna let some random dude ruin my favorite holiday." I hear him chuckle in the background which eases any worry I have.

"No one gets in between you and mom's cornbread stuffing."

I laugh too, hearing my stomach grumble at the thought of food. "Hey, listen, I'm gonna go get some dinner alright? Take care of you and mom."

"Will do, big bro."

I smile at that and hang up. Before I slip my phone into the pocket, I pull up my calendar and set a reminder to give them a call next week. That'll be sure to make mom happy.

CHASE

I tried on nearly every shirt I owned, hoping that one of them would miraculously make me look better than how I saw myself. As far as looks go, I fall more on the "cute" side rather than the "hot" side- I have my baby face, lack of ability to grow facial hair and lean body to thank for that. I'd like to say that I've embraced that fully, but here I am twenty years later, still trying to add some age to my look. I run some fingers through my hair a couple times, messing up the perfect combover that I decided was too preppy. After letting the top button of my favorite maroon oxford shirt undone, I reached for a pair of thick framed glasses that made me look less like a high school nerd and more like a Silicon Valley techie. A couple spritzes of some cologne and I was out the door- running into Griffin just as I got to the hallway. We chatted for a bit- mostly him coaching me on like a father about to see his son play soccer for the first time. I rolled my eyes, knowing that acknowledging his excitement would just psych me out- and I was already doing that on my own just fine. Before we parted, he hugged me- which wasn't too uncommon considering how close we were. But this time, I could tell he held on for a few more seconds longer than he usually does. It made me happy, knowing there was someone who cared about me like he did.

Making my way through the restaurant feels like walking into a lecture that's halfway done and trying to avoid all the judging eyes. Caleb had texted me earlier this morning that we'd be having dinner at Yamamoto's- which is this cool little Japanese spot a few blocks from campus. I was relieved that he'd chosen it- mostly because it's a place that I've been to before, so it means there's some sense of familiarity as I ease into the black booths and take in the aroma of soy sauce that wafts over from the kitchen. This isn't the kind of place I'd consider a date spot- but that fact alone puts me at ease. I don't want to put pressure on anything- right now it's just two guys getting to know each other.

Caleb comes through the door five minutes late, which I brush off immediately as that wide smile takes over my senses. He slides into the booth across from me, masking the soy with his own cologne.

"Sorry I'm a little late, I missed my bus coming back from downtown so I had to rush to get ready."

"No worries at all, man."

"Cool thanks." He says, sipping on the water that was just set down by the waiter. He asks, "Have you been here before?", taking in the paper lanterns that hang from the ceiling and old scrolls pinned to the walls that list out the four seasons in Japanese.

"Yeah, I actually come here a lot with Grif-" I pause, not wanting the first thing I talk about to be another guy. "friends. This is one of our spots."

He nods, looking over the menu like it's written in Japanese. I don't even need to look. Griff and I have eaten our way through the menu to know what's good and what's only slightly okay. I by-pass my two favorite things here: the grilled mackerel and the miso ramen- mostly because smelling like fish or messily slurping down noodles doesn't seem like good first date etiquette. I point Caleb towards some of the safer options on the menu and he eventually decides on karaage, cause according to him, "you can't screw up fried chicken." I laugh because he's right and order the tonkatsu for myself.

The waiter comes to get our orders and I smile to myself at Caleb's mispronunciation of the native words. It's endearing, really, how much he seems like a fish out of water and I akin that to him trying to impress me. Truth is, the fact that a boy this attractive wants to go out with me at all is impressive enough. Still, I set that aside while we go through the obligatory twenty questions of trying to get to know each other.

After we get past hometowns and favorite movies, the conversation seems to die down a bit . I'm not usually this nervous when it comes to meeting new people and yet here I am, desperately grasping for conversation starters all throughout the room

Then I see a sight for sore eyes: Griffin. He walks into the restaurant wearing his favorite university hoodie that he bought the first weekend here. I should have known he'd come here considering how much he loves the spider rolls. He's convinced that the sushi chef always puts in a few extra squid legs for him. He pays for his order and grabs the plastic bag before noticing me. Griffin's entire face lights up when he sees me and he starts to walk over, then stop mid-way. It's like he remembered that I was on a date and didn't want to intrude. I call him over anyway, hoping that a familiar face could break some of this tension.

"Griffin, come over dude." I say, moving my hand in our direction. He notices and continues to walk over with a face that's quite hard to read.

"Caleb, this is my friend Griffin. Griff, this is Caleb." I say, gesturing between the two. They shake hands and for a split second, I get the notion of a power exchange. Griffin releases first and puts the still loaded gun back in its holster.

"So how do you guys know each other?" Caleb asks.

Griffin takes the lead, "I met Chase last year. We were the only two freshmen put into an all Sophomore floor so we clicked. Been friends ever since."

I nod in agreement as Caleb leans back into the booth, as if he no longer sees the handsome brunette in front of him as a threat. Yeah, Griffin's my best friend, but there's no denying that he's attractive. But as far as Caleb- and everyone else is concerned- that's all we are. I squashed any premature thoughts about being with him when I realized that he's arguably the one person here that I care about beyond belief. Just a week into our friendship and I knew that he was a genuine guy that had trouble getting other people to see him that way. And since then, there's been this indelible line drawn between us- like two lanes of traffic moving in different directions but forever next to each other.

Griffin ruffles the plastic bag he's holding onto before excusing himself, "I'll let you guys go before this gets cold." He looks at me, "See you tomorrow"- which is less of a question and more of a demand.

"Yeah, I'll see ya."

He leaves and fortunately for me, the plan worked. Caleb seems to bounce back from our slow start and we get on this roll of conversation as the food arrives. He tells me about his major and what he sees himself doing in a few years. There's this certainty in his voice that I find alluring, He makes no mention of "if's" or "maybe's"- the boy talks like he's certain everything he wants to happen, will, and he's simply speaking it into existence. He takes hold of his miso soup and sips on it as it becomes my turn. Mine is less of a five-year plan and more like a mad-lib with all the major aspects left up to interpretation. Truth is I haven't figured anything out apart from what I'm studying, so everything I say is made up of the most general terms possible. He finishes the soup and seems to be content with my answer, so we leave it there.

The server drops off the check and I'm not quick enough to grab it as Caleb swipes it with one hand and slides his credit card in with the other. I reach for it, insisting.

"Come on, let me take care of it."

He playfully nods his head, "Nope. I insist." He closes the flap and sets it down, "Besides, your company alone was worth it."

I'd normally roll my eyes at a line like that but instead, I hold onto the wood table hoping not to melt into a sappy mess. I cross my arms in feigned protest, "Fine, but I'm getting the next time."

He smiles at that, "Oh, so there is gonna be a next time."

"You'll just have to wait and see."

Minutes later, Caleb and I are lingering by the entrance of Yamamoto's. He's insistent that we set a date for the next time we can see each other which makes me happy beyond belief. After throwing out a few days, we eventually settle on Thursday- the one day I'm not closing the coffee shop. Caleb sets the date in his phone, making it official just as the red hue coming off the street lanterns perfectly coats his face. He slips it back into his pocket before closing the gap between us. I told myself I wouldn't sleep with him on the first date, but kissing- that was never off the table. I meet him halfway as he smirks.

"Can I have a kiss to tie me over 'til Thursday?" He asks, in his boyish charm.

I nod, pressing my lips against his before pulling off a few seconds later. I hope that's just enough to leave him wanting more. The look on his face tells me that it is. And after actually saying goodbye, he turns and walks off in the other direction.

As I start walking away too, I pull my own phone from my pocket and dial the only other person I want to talk to.

GRIFFIN

I'm surprised when I see that Chase is calling me, but I'd be lying if I said I wasn't happy about it. I toss the controller aside, essentially forfeiting my run as I turn off the TV and lie back in bed.

"I take it the date went well."

I hear a chuckle on his end and it instantly makes me smile. "It went really well, actually."

"Let me guess, you two are hooking up right now and you called me cause you needed a third." I joke as a way to hide the discomfort I feel, remembering Chase with that guy.

"That's a negative on both ends, dude. I'm going slow with this one."

I gag- getting a few more laughs out of Chase in the process. He settles down as I lean back into my pillows.

"I really hope this one works out, Griff."

I sigh, but only to myself. "Me too, buddy. You deserve to be happy."

Chase pauses for a second, as if taken aback by my words. I'm picturing that surprised look on his face. "You know, if you were this nice all the time, I'd call you more often." He says, teasing me.

I take a mental note to be nicer just so I can hear his voice more often. We make plans to hang out tomorrow before he lets out a few surprised yawns as he makes his way back to his dorm.

"Goodnight Griffin" is all I hear as he fumbles with his keys and shuts the door behind him.

Chase hangs up and I'm left with this longing feeling that I wanted that conversation to last a lot longer than it did. Without warning, I feel that sensation in my dick as it throbs inside the sweatpants I have on. I sink my hand underneath the fabric, gripping onto it the same way I held onto my phone a few minutes ago. It's excruciatingly hard and I try to tell myself that it's just me being young and overly horny.

But it's a lie. It's hard- I'm hard because of Chase.

I think back to how good he looked tonight- a lighthouse of blue standing in the middle of a sea of red and white. I reach into my mind, remembering the way he said my name and that cute laugh he does when he's not forcibly holding back how funny he thinks I am.

And I stroke.

I rub my cock in my palm, pulling on my shaft as my head cranks back, supported only by the pillows that rest on the concrete wall behind me. I don't even bother to take off my shirt or get rid of these sweatpants entirely- there's no time for that. Instead, I dip my bare toes into the sheets, curling them at the loose fabric as I pleasure myself. I grab onto my balls with my free hand, kneading them in my fingers as my fist works through my cock in firm, steady grips. I pull a hand to my mouth and gather spit at my forefinger before bringing it to my head. With my cock in one hand, I tease the tip, tracing a wet finger along that mushroom head, coaxing out even more precum.

I hate how easily I come undone. It's only been a few minutes since Chase hung up and I'm close- so unbearably close. I continue to stroke until I know that it's only a matter of seconds. My cock feels way too good in my hand and my toes are curled so much, I worry that they'll stay like that. Just before I feel that load rising, I pull a hand off and cover my mouth.

I cum, spraying all over my sheets and undoubtedly getting a few drops on my clothes. I lay back into the mattress, catching my breath for a few minutes before the cum goes cold and feels weird on my skin. I reach for a pair of used boxers and clean myself up before tossing it, and my sheets in the hamper- knowing I'll need to get them washed before Chase comes over tomorrow. Once all is cleaned up enough, I lie back in bed, thinking about how deep all of this is getting.