Page 190 of Catfish

Jed was most of those things, but driven wasn't one of them. We were young when we dated, but he liked to stay in Grant's shadow, it kept him away from his father's pestering.

But he never wanted to grow.

He had no dreams except to be with me and someday help people. Now he’s marrying a woman that he doesn’t know if he wants to be with, and I’ll throw money on it that his father pushed him into it.

If Wade went through some family shit, which he obviously did by Emmy’s reaction and what he just said, he still drove forward. He still kept on with his dream. I can respect the hell out of that.

A fork appears in front of my face, followed by the word, “Eat.”

Opening my mouth, I’m presented with a piece of sweet and sour chicken and Wade back to eating his food like a starved man.

“I love you staring at me,” Wade proclaims. “But after a minute, it starts to creep me out.” An egg roll is thrown in his direction, he catches it in his lap and takes a bite out of it.

Yeah, Wade Lockwood is something else altogether, alright.

? Coffee — Miguel ?

After the debate in Chicago and apologizing to Reagan, I thought I'd feel better.

I actually relied on it because she was the one constant in my life that made me feel like what I was doing was going to be more than what I imagined.

That I could get rid of all the negativity in my life—my family and the looming past that haunts me when I get to in my head. It has to be dealt with because I know I have to bring it back in to get rid of it.

I’m just still trying to rack my brain on how to go about doing it without hurting Reagan in the process. I need to keep everything out of her wheelhouse that, maybe, one day we might have a future.

Because all we have is the present, and I live for it.

I look forward to her every day that I know she's coming in the office, always trying to find a reason to see her outside of it.

Yesterday, she had a meeting with a caterer for the fundraiser, and I showed up because I craved to see her.

It's becoming more of an obsession, something I can't pry from my head. I see red flags waving in front of my face at all times—I ignore them.

I’m stepping into quicksand.

Playing a dangerous game right now where Reagan has a substantial possibility of getting buried in the process.

But I can't keep the selfish tendencies that reside in me at bay. It's too much and too hard to not want to be near her, feel her, or kiss her. It's been so long since I've felt anything for anyone—I don't want to let it go.

I just wish she’d let Chase go.

After everything that has transpired between Reagan and I over the course of a few weeks, she still texts him—first. It grates on every nerve ending that I possess, every feeling that courses through me because I’m that dickhead that wants to be the only one she speaks to from the opposite sex. Not some asshole that she met on a dating website that she teases, talks to, and possibly wants to meet one day.

She's fucking infuriating, sexy, and I want her to be mine. It just can't be today or tomorrow or any other fucking day that's coming up though, unfortunately.

But one day…

A knock rasps at my office door, and I glance over my laptop as I call said person inside. Speaking of the devil who stole every ounce of control in that blue dress the night of Montgomery's anniversary party. Reagan stands in the threshold of my doorway, holding coffee, two black binders, a pen in her mouth, and clothed in a printed dress that goes too far above her knees than I feel comfortable with when there are a bunch of guys with dicks in my office.

“I think you need an assistant just to carry all your shit, Miss Shelton,” I jeer as she closes the door behind her with her black heel.

She smiles, striding towards my desk, and drops everything but her coffee on top of it.

“If I would’ve known the lengths I had to go to for this ball, Governor, I may have kept with turning you down on this job,” she concedes, plopping gracefully and slowly down in one of the leather chairs. “Emmy is worse than you.”

I perk a brow. “My Em?” She nods while sipping her coffee. “She’s still getting used to you, she had to work with a woman that she had to babysit half the time during events.”

"I don't know how many times I have to remind her that I got it. She just made me change the opening dance to something more age-appropriate."

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