Page 136 of Catfish

My cell rings in my hand again, and I glance down, stifling a sigh at the conflicted thoughts always piercing through my brain.

Henry Lockwood.

Good ‘old Dad heard about Holden already. Or the asshole decided he was going to go tattle tail on me. The dummy should’ve figured out by now that I don’t listen to anyone when it comes to this dream—especially him.

The man was supposed to have my back always, and he had a back alright—his own.

I hit the ignore button since I’m on a roll today with neglecting all of my problems. Nothing that a stiff drink won’t fix temporarily.

? Nice For What — Drake ?

“Three hundred gift boxes,” I yell out.

"Check!" Sadie bellows from the other room. "Along with the pink-colored candy and glow-in-the-dark bracelets."

“Did the glow-in-the-dark cake toppers come in yet?” Yep—I just rolled my eyes.

“Tomorrow.”

“How about the cupcake order, we should be able to pick that up first thing on Saturday, right?”

“Susie said it’ll be ready at ten.”

“Awesome, I’m meeting up with Martha later to go over the menu one more time,” I voice.

“I’m checking on the flowers with the florist later this afternoon.”

I poke my head outside the bathroom door. “Wasn’t that on my list?”

“Nope!” Sadie shouts. “You have the DJ and the last meeting with the mom at—crap, I don’t remember. It’s on your list.”

I finish applying my mascara and peer down at my notepad sitting on the top of the toilet. “Shit, that’s at six.”

“You need me to do it?”

I rub my temple. “No, I got it.”

My phone buzzes on top of the counter, and I reach for it, already praying to God that it's not Emmy asking me to help her with something.

I like her, I really do. She’s sassy, mellow, and really easy to talk to. She thinks Wade is a bigger pain in the ass than I do, if that’s even possible. But in the midst of all that, she tries to get me more “involved.”

More “part of the team.”

It wasn’t that I didn’t want to be. It’d be good to have another friend that would probably go to the bar after a hard day’s work. Or be the girlfriend that would take a bat to an ex-boyfriend’s car for you because he cheated—that’d be Emmy.

Only with Emmy, comes Wade. And with Wade, comes a whole lot of sexual tension, and me wanting to pull my hair out of my head.

Drama.

I don’t do drama anymore.

Almost married it and ran far away. Well, unless you count hanging out with Jed the other night, I’m putting miles between us and my past.

Patricia: Hey, Reagan! Hope everything is going well with the party!!! Ruby just sent me a text saying she'd like to see if you could get Harry Styles to her event on Saturday.

What the fuck? Who the hell is—

“Sadie!” Striding out of my bedroom, I walk into the kitchen to find her constructing little party favor boxes. “Who the fuck is Harry Styles?”

---