Page 173 of Catfish

“I’ll explain later,” I quip, keeping my calm demeanor at the forefront of my brain. “I’m calling the cops to shut this party down.”

“Wait, what?" She puts down her bag of ice and reaches out to touch me, but I jolt away.

“Later.” Pointing at the guys behind her, I tell them to just drop the ice and leave.

"Rea, are you okay?" I can already see the worry draped over her face, and I refuse to look at it. I'll think about what happened when I get home but not here. Not in front of these ass clowns and not when I'm susceptible enough to cry.

I nod. "Yeah, some kid almost fell, half-drunk, and ripped it, but that's not why I'm calling the cops," I lie. "This party is out of control, and I don't want us to be responsible for any damages.”

Her brows are furrowed, not looking convinced, but thank God she doesn't press it further. "Do you want me to call?"

“I got it. Just start kicking them all out.” She goes off and does what I ask as I power on my phone to call the cops to get them all out.

My body starts to shake as I step deeper into the party so that Elijah doesn’t start his shit with me again.

Silently, I start berating myself for acting like a pussy when I should go back and shank him and his buddy a few times.

Then I feel a wave of comfort when I see Chase’s text.

Chase: What time do you get out of those things anyway?

Chase: Don’t they have bedtimes?

Me: Leaving soon.

Chase: Baller boss perks.

I quickly call the police while half of the party staggers out of the building. Sadie called Mila anyway, and I'm grateful because I just want to get the fuck out of here.

Making my exit quick, I get home in twenty minutes, blaring the angriest rock music that I have on my Spotify hotlist.

I don't like the way I'm feeling right now, the vulnerability and panic that still infiltrates my body. I want a beer, my PJs, and a fucking moment away from this day. The mayor will be getting a meeting with me about his son's behavior, and normally, I'm not a rat, but this motherfucker is going to be put in jail if he tries it with someone else. And I doubt the mayor wants that added on under his names of "cheater" and "man-whore" that have been affiliated with him already.

Inside my house, I toss my keys on the foyer table to hear them slide off and hit the hardwood floor. I beeline to the fridge, wanting to get lost in a Corona and thoughts of chopping Elijah’s cock off with a butter knife.

Oh, but moments, how many of those do I get by myself without interruption? Which rings true when there is a knock that suddenly raps on my door.

The mayor—he's my immediate thought. Must have heard about the party ending sooner than planned and decided to come bitch me out for sending everyone away.

And I’m so fucking ready to give him quite a few pieces of my mind.

Twisting off the cap of my beer, I take a swig before making my way to the door. My heels click purposely, and I'm hot. So fucking offended that I might just take the mayor’s head off with my words.

I yank the door open, my mouth already ready to spew off a few profanities, but they halt, freeze, and flee out of my mind the moment my gaze hits Wade Lockwood standing on my doorstep.

His expression is hard, eyes studying me up and down while his chest heaves hard pulls of air.

"What's wrong with you?" I blurt, my anxiety ping-ponging everywhere. His scrutiny stops on my face as he tries to soften his.

“I had some changes I wanted done to the fundraiser.”

My brows knit together. “What?”

“I forgot what they were already.” Confused, I gape at him because he looks...frazzled.

Noticing headlights off the brick of my house, I lean to look around his body to see his blacked-out SUV still with its lights on.

“Do you have someone waiting for you or…”

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