Page 106 of Catfish

Me: Why?

Reagan: You go from wanting me in red lingerie to wanting to ask me twenty questions?

Me: You’re insane. You’re upset that I want to respect you?

Reagan: Yeah...a little.

Reagan: But if that’s what you want, then you’ll get it. I wouldn’t spend too much time thinking about the questions though because you’re not going to win.

Me: I have two days to think about it, and I will.

Reagan: I want food.

Me: *devil emoji*

Reagan: What’s that for?

Me: You opened my picture, didn’t you?

Reagan: No, I haven’t actually.

Reagan: Keeping the mystery alive.

Me: That’s great for my self-esteem.

Reagan: You’re handsome prick, does that help?

Me: No.

Fuck no, it actually doesn’t, because she’s talking about Chase, not me. Fucking asshole.

Reagan: Grab a tissue, Yank. You’ll need them when you lose anyways.

Reagan: And you’re still not out of the dog house yet.

Me: Figured it wouldn’t be that easy.

Me: But that’s alright. It’ll be fun breaking you down.

Reagan: May the force be with you.

Me: What do you want if you win?

“Hey, we wanted to talk to you about the lunch with the attorney general,” Emmy calls from my door.

I jilt a little, forgetting I had it open but drop my phone in my lap. Reagan rounds the foyer with Em two seconds later with her cell phone in her hands, and I fight back every urge to smirk.

“Take a seat,” I murmur as Em makes her way inside with Reagan trailing behind, her nose still in her phone.

“There were a few topics that I know she wanted to discuss at the dinner, I got them from her assistant,” Em advises. “I just wanted you to be able to get a jump on it.”

My phone buzzes on my thigh.

“What kind of topics?” I ask as my eyes follow Reagan taking a seat in front of my desk, still having a love relationship with her phone.

I’m a mix of irritated and amused that she’s waiting on my response but with Chase’s face attached to it.

"Gun control, the poverty rate, and your take on school reform."

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