Page 21 of Accidentally Joining His Cult (Chicago Awakenings #1)
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
Beck
I ’m so fucking hungry by the time we get to the restaurant.
Only when we arrive, it becomes abundantly clear that the “Old Mill” is not a cutesy name for a normal restaurant. Instead, it’s a gigantic open-concept building that looks like it can fit at least a thousand people, all seated at long picnic-style tables beneath a large stage. Along one wall, there are windows into what must be the kitchen, with lines of people forming before each one, presumably to pick up food.
This is… not what I was expecting.
The building doesn’t even look old. Despite the spinning mill wheel outside in the river, it’s clearly as new as the rest of the campus. There’s no way this was ever a functioning mill. This is really weird.
But, like I said, starving. So I shove the judgment down and follow Cody into one of the lines. As we wait, I try to keep my tone neutral while asking him about what the fuck this place is.
“So, this is unique?” I say, like it’s a question.
“Yeah, isn’t it cool?” Cody says, excited as ever. “Everyone eats here at least once a week, but because I’m in upper management, Viktor likes me to eat here more often,” he says like it’s a special perk. “He likes to encourage community bonding and allow opportunities for everyone to interact outside of work. He also likes it when management is here to show how we’re just regular people, too. He thinks it helps us remain approachable.
“The stage is where Viktor, senior management, or people with positions in the community make announcements,” he points out. “Viktor also likes to close out the night with a guided meditation, and throughout dinner, he makes his rounds around the room so that even people who don’t work directly with him can still spend time with him.”
“So, everyone is required to eat here?” I clarify, still trying to wrap my head around its logistics. How can they possibly require that? What would happen if they didn’t?
“Yeah, just once a week unless Viktor asks you to come more. There’s a schedule since not everyone can fit at the same time.” He explains matter-of-factly.
I can’t imagine enforcing anything like that at my company.
When we finally reach the front of the line, we’re handed plates of chicken casserole packed with lots of veggies. The portion is way smaller than I’d like, but at this point I’ll take whatever I can get.
We snag a spot next to each other near the stage, sitting shoulder-to-shoulder at one of the long tables.
“Viktor noted that in most societies today, people spend most of their time outside of work isolated. They go home and only interact with the people they live with. Or, if they go out, it’s usually with the same people,” he tells me.
He says it as if spending time with your family is a bad thing. I know Cody doesn’t actually believe that because he’s always asking about my family and telling me how amazing he thinks it is that we spend so much time together. I think he’s just repeating what Viktor told them.
“These habits perpetuate feelings of isolation and depression. They prevent any sense of community and the support that comes with it,” he goes on. “Then, the isolated people are more susceptible to harmful consumerism habits—shopping on their phone, only caring about social media views. Viktor says these behaviors prevent people from thinking for themselves and hold them back from reaching their full potential. So, his solution was the Old Mill to increase community interactions over dinner.”
I make a noncommittal hmm sound in reaction, digging into my dinner, hoping that Cody can’t tell how fucked up I think this all is by the look on my face.
He introduces me to everyone around us, adding, “I wish it were Nick’s night to be here, but I’m glad we’re doing the hike tomorrow.” I do want to meet his best friend, so I nod in agreement.
The rest of the meal is full of polite small talk as I answer questions from everyone around us. I can’t help but feel a little bummed when Cody introduces me as “his friend.” We clearly need to have a conversation about labels sooner rather than later.
They don’t all work for Kyla, the woman across from us is a police officer, and her husband works for the post office. One of the men owns a store in the downtown area, and says his family has been in Linna for generations.
Everyone seems so fucking happy, and not in the adorable way that Cody is where you believe he actually cares and is excited. With these people, it’s like any answer I give is met with a “That’s so amazing” response that sounds scripted and forced. I’m tempted to fuck with them and say something really awful, just to see how they’ll spin it to find a positive way to respond, but I don’t want Cody to be worried about whatever I’d come up with.
As pleasant as it all is, I can’t help but feel a little cheated out of my time with Cody. I wish we were alone instead of surrounded by people. I try to focus on the fact that I’m staying with him and we’ll have plenty of time together, but without a solution to our distance, our time feels so limited.
I can see Viktor walking around the space, being his usual overly touchy self. He does the weird mountain handhold thing with everyone he greets, kissing some of the people right on the mouth and standing way too close.
What’s even weirder is how much everyone seems thrilled by his attention. I know that everyone around here is obsessed with the guy, but I still don’t understand why.
I notice other people throughout the large space interacting in similar, overly familiar ways. At first, I’d have assumed they’re couples since they’re all touching so freely, but then I realized they act like that with everyone.
“What’s with all the touching and kissing?” I murmur to Cody, keeping my voice low, hoping the people around us won’t hear me. I lift my chin toward a group of people at the next table who are all kissing the person who just walked up like it’s a completely normal thing to do.
“Oh, a lot of people here greet each other like that,” he laughs. “It’s all about reinforcing community bonds and the endorphins that come from casual physical touch.”
“Random people won’t come up and kiss me, will they?” I ask with obvious terror in my tone.
Cody laughs. “No, don’t worry, no one should greet you like that if they don’t know you. It’s all very consensual. They all already know each other and have established that as a greeting they’re comfortable with. If someone wanted to, they’d ask you first, and you can tell them that isn’t something you’re comfortable with. They won’t be offended, it’s never been something I’ve done. It’s not like required or anything.”
“Oh, thank god. You’re the only person I want to kiss,” I say, letting out a big exhale before laughing, and he flashes me a dazzling smile.
I finish my food too quickly. The size of the portion was way smaller than I’m used to. I really hope Cody has some snacks at his place, even if they’re the healthy crap he likes.
It feels like an eternity waiting for everyone to finish their meals, though I suppose serving a thousand people takes a while. Then, Viktor gets up on the stage, and the room immediately falls into a hushed silence without him having to say anything.
To my absolute horror, he makes eye contact with me before speaking.
“Good evening, everyone. I hope that you’ve all had a successful day full of happiness. We have a very special guest staying with us here in Linna for a few weeks. I would like everyone to give a very warm welcome to Beckett Caldwell,” he announces into a microphone, opening his arm out toward me, and people start to clap.
“Beckett is a member of the prestigious Caldwell family in Chicago. You may know them as the owners of the Chicago Werewolves ice hockey team, the Caldwell Hotel chain, or from one of their many other companies that are part of the Caldwell Corporation,” he brags.
I hate when people lead with all of my family’s info, like that’s the only reason I have any value.
“Beckett began his Kyla journey a few months ago, and some of you might also recognize him from the retreat we had in Florida,” he adds, and I see a few nods of recognition near the front of the room. “He’ll be staying with Cody Richardson, so make sure that you embrace him as a new member of our village and help him to see how amazing our little city of Linna is!”
He finally finishes my introduction, and I’m very glad to have the attention off of me when he transitions to other community announcements.
I tune him out almost immediately. It’s nearly 10 p.m., and I’m way more interested in how adorable Cody is. Here in his element, he's so excited about everything, and watching his reactions to Viktor is way more entertaining than anything Viktor could possibly be saying. I know that we need to have a serious conversation about the feelings I have for him. Ideally, before we take things further physically, but all day, I’ve had to stop my mind from picturing all the things I want to do with him while I’m here.
My cock probably has a zipper-shaped indent on it from being half-hard for so long.
Cody gives me a playful nudge with his elbow and nods toward the stage to focus my attention. Apparently, Viktor has moved on to the guided meditation portion of the evening. Not wanting to disappoint Cody, I mimic the others, clasping my hands together in the “mountain” prayer pose everyone else is already in.
Of course, my thoughts immediately drift back to Cody. We’ve had a lot of fun during our naked video calls and in the dirty texting conversations when one of us couldn’t call over the last month. Cody has remained vocal about wanting to bottom for me, and whenever I tell him to play with his rim, he finishes quickly. I don’t think he’s actually lasted long enough to explore his prostate, and I’m very eager to introduce him.
The sound of shuffling fills the room, pulling me out of my thoughts. I open my eyes to see Cody standing, smiling down at me.
“Really into that meditation?” he teases, raising a brow.
“You know me, very dedicated,” I agree with a serious expression that makes him laugh.
“Let’s go home,” he says, pulling me up.
I know he means his house, but the idea of our home being the same place makes me smile.