Page 65 of Hot for Teacher
Whatever Killian was looking for, he didn’t seem to find it on Chase’s face. He uncrossed his arms, running a frustrated hand through his hair. “Let’s try this: What do youwantus to be?”
Now it was Chase’s turn to blanch. That hot feeling was replaced with a sudden wave of chill, like a bucket of ice-cold water had been poured over his head. “I don’t know.” He tried for a laugh, and it sounded all wrong. “Aren’tyouin charge? You tell me what to do and I follow? Isn’t that how this works?”
Killian shook his head. “No, sweet boy. Not for things like this.”
Chase couldn’t look him in the eye anymore. His gaze dropped to his feet, and Killian seemed to take pity on him.
“Ican tell you that I want us to be partners or boyfriends or whichever you prefer to call it,” Killian said. “I can tell you I want to be even more than that someday. But is that whatyouwant?”
This was somehow worse than the angry phone call. Worse than that soul-killing dinner with his parents. Worse than anything. Because there were things Chase thought he wanted to say—things that maybe he wanted to ask for—but it was like he physically couldn’t. It all got stuck in his throat, no room for it with all that hot panic, and he didn’t see any of it making its way out anytime soon.
What waswrongwith him?
“Chase,” Killian said again, in that soft, kind way.
And it was too much. His attention, his kindness, the things he wanted Chase to know and talk about and ask for.
“I should probably go,” Chase said, wiping at his eyes. They were dry, though, so he didn’t know why he bothered.
Killian didn’t look angry. He looked kind of sad, which was somehow worse.
“I can— Let me think,” Chase told him, turning back to face the sink. He should rinse out his mug, shouldn’t he? It was rude tojust leave it there. “For a while. And then I can …” He trailed off. He didn’t know what the end of that sentence was.
Killian’s silence lasted an unbearably long time before he asked, “Are your roommates home?”
There. That was a question Chase could find an answer to, wasn’t it? He dug his phone out of his pocket and checked his texts. “Yeah. They’re home.”
“Then go straight there,” Killian commanded, his voice thick. “Let the baby alphas comfort you.”
Something loosened in Chase’s chest. Yeah. He could do that. That was straightforward. Easy.
He turned back around, and there was Killian, looking kind of devastated, and suddenly it wasn’t easy anymore.
When Chase froze, Killian stepped forward, cupping Chase’s face in his broad hands. He spoke clearly. Firmly. “I’m going to give you space because you asked for it, and I want to give you all the things you ask for. But I’ll be waiting. Do you understand?”
Chase nodded, although he wasn’t sure he did. He didn’t think he understood anything right now. He wasn’t sure what had just happened. He wanted to turn back time, and go back to when they were just waking up from Killian’s rut. He wanted to say no to dinner and order takeout instead. He wanted to be on the couch right now, curled up in Killian’s arms, watching something neither of them cared about.
He didn’t know how to say any of that.
Killian gave him a hard look. “Text me when you’re home safe. Immediately, or I’ll be coming to check on you. The space starts after.”
And somehow that was that.
Chase left.
20
Killian
Killian was well on his way to being very, very drunk.
Past that, probably, if he was being honest. Prince and Devon had already confiscated his phone and keys some time ago, declaring him a flight risk, but they had yet to confiscate the whiskey. Perhaps they’d realized he needed some … mellowing.
Killian had called them shortly after Chase had left. He’d known he couldn’t be alone. Had known that, left to his own devices, he would have done something ill-advised. Smashed something irreplaceable. Followed Chase home. Flown to whatever Midwestern town his beta’s parents were hiding in and set their expensive house on fire.
Just as an example.
But instead Killian was drunk and chaperoned and full of frustration and regret.
