Page 165 of Catfish

And I'm quickly going to be a casualty in this scenario. I just hopes she mauls me to death with her lips and pussy if this is the way I’m going to go out.

—

I was thinking when I agreed to this that Reagan would take me to some hole-in-the-wall. Maybe do some research of where to go when she decided on a whim to leave the hotel and go out.

Because right now, I'm standing in a bar filled with college kids who can't hold their liquor and are stumbling all over the place like a bunch of lightweights. I've been bumped into more times than a ping pong machine already, and I'm about to elbow the next asshole who touches me again.

Reagan finds us a section at the bar in the corner, ordering me a whiskey and herself a Tequila Sunrise as we take a seat. A faint detection of weed fills the air, and the music is so loud that I'm surprised the bartender can hear us as she scatters away to make our drinks.

“Couldn’t find a better place?” I bellow into her ear over the bass of the song currently playing.

She pulls on the rim of my baseball cap, but I see the quirk of her lips before she does. "Live a little, G. When's the last time you've been somewhere crazy?"

“The debate today,” I deadpan while adjusting my hat back so I can at least enjoy my view of her next to me.

She hits me with an exasperated glint of her eyes. “Let me rephrase—when is the last time you’ve been somewhere with people around your age?”

“College.”

“And that was, like, over a decade ago?”

"Really, Miss Shelton?" I knit my brows. "How much older do you think I am?" She laughs, not bothering to hide it from me, which is exactly the way I prefer it anyway. Too bad I can't hear much of it, though.

I gesture to the crowded bar. “Do you do this often?”

“Go to bars?” I nod. “Not as often as I used to.” My fingers drum the sticky bar top, now imagining how many guys would hit on her in one night. If she talks or fucks with any of them like she happens to do with me all the time.

Honestly, from talking to her through my alter-ego Chase, she rides pretty accurate to who she is with him and myself. So, I think it's a little bit of both, which hits me in the gut and twists it. Not that I have any say in what she does with her life.

Zero.

I’m nothing but her boss and the asshole that signs her checks.

The bartender comes back with our drinks and, to my surprise, puts them on drink napkins before marching to another customer.

Yeah, it’s been a while since I’ve been out.

"To living on the edge sometimes," Reagan states, lifting her pinkish-orange beverage and tucking a piece of her hair behind her ear. "And to you, G—" She hikes her gaze to me. "And all your success."

She doesn't wait for me to add to it, clinks our glasses together and takes a sip. I follow, watching her face to see if her drink is any good. Licking her bottom lip, that does nothing for my self-control, she bobs her head in approval.

“How did the dinner go tonight?” she asks me while taking another swig. “Emmy said she forced you.”

“Em forces me to do everything,” I reply. “I wouldn’t do half the crap I do if she wasn’t pushing me to be more social.”

Reagan looks at me from over the rim of her glass. “Use that charm, G.” I shake my head, hiding my smirk with my glass.

She isn't wrong. When I was in college, I could talk the panties off a woman with a cocky smirk and a good once-over. One good, smooth line, and you could have her batting her eyelids with the famous question, 'wanna go back to my place?'.

That’s when times weren’t like they are now.

Yale seems like a lifetime ago. Too many responsibilities added up within my career path, and I haven't been around people without a view on climate change and gun control in forever.

“I’ll have to dig deep,” I finally convey, taking a large gulp of my whiskey because tonight, I’m going to need courage and a clear head.

“Do what you have to do, G. Night’s young.”

I glance down at my watch. "It's midnight and—" I stop myself before I finish because I've become that lame-ass who now follows the rules and guidelines to set myself up for success.

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