Page 130 of Catfish

I don’t hear a thing he says, just how his deep voice, along with the confident way he addresses his assistant, weaves in the air. He paces back and forth through the room, answering whatever debate question they are practicing, until Wade catches Emmy’s attention on me again and peers over his shoulder at me.

“Thank God, I’m starving,” he raves, striding towards me. His steps are determined and meaningful like he’s about to rip me apart with the glint of hunger in his eyes.

My breath catches, as the hairs on the back of my neck stand on end.

This is one of the ways I’ve always imagined it. His lust finally unbound and working it’s way to his mission—me.

Instead, he grabs the plastic bags out of my hands and makes his way to his desk.

I blow out a silent exhale through my mouth as I steady my heartbeat and my apparent need to get laid.

“Thanks for bringing this by,” Emmy sounds, standing from the couch and throwing her notepad on it.

“Yeah,” Wade mumbles with the rustling of the carryout bags.

“He gets super cranky when he’s hungry,” Emmy whispers when she resides at my side. “He hasn’t eaten all day.”

“It’s not your job to remind him,” I whisper, watching him organize their food on the desktop.

"My job is to get him the presidency, which requires him being alive," she counters with a weak knock into my arm with hers.

“Would it be so bad without a Wade Lockwood in the world?”

Wow, harsh.

“You should listen to his responses to some of the questions, he may surprise you.”

I shift my weight off one of my heels. “I’m gonna try and stay as far away from his testy ass as possible.”

“You might be shocked by what he’s passionate about. He’s different when he speaks about the trail to the presidency.” I save her the scoff that wants to protrude through my lips.

“Did they forget the soy sauce?” Wade gripes, raking his hand through his dark hair.

"We order there enough, there should be some in the kitchen." Wade looks up at her expectedly, and she sighs. "I'll go ahead and get it."

She rounds me, leaving me in the lion’s den alone. The last spot Wade and I had a conversation.

Well, a fight of me stepping into his personal affairs.

Things have also taken a weird tilt for us in the last few weeks. We had an amazing time bowling at Annie’s charity event. Then he wasn’t around much, got moodier when he was, so I just tried to bypass him altogether.

Then there was that argument yesterday that was a mixture of strain, anger, and my wanting to bite down on his lower lip to calm his ass down.

“Was the line long?” I fine-tune my focus to find Wade finally sitting down in his tall chair.

“Extremely.”

“And you didn’t get something for yourself?” He’s already digging into his chicken dish, too busy admiring his food and not giving a crap that I had to wait over forty-five minutes for it.

“Nah, thought I was going to be in and out.”

He holds up his tray. “Want some?” His mouth is full, not giving a shit that some rice fell from his lips.

Our potential president of the United States, ladies and gentlemen.

“I’m good, thanks.”

He lays it back on his desk, back to becoming fixated on it. “Missing out, Miss Shelton.”

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