Page 147 of Catfish

Mr. I-Want-It-My-Way-When-I-Want-It.

He reminds me of that little bratty girl in the Willy Wonka & the Chocolate Factory movie. Didn’t she blow up or something?

I acknowledge him with a weak grin at the far end of the table in which he raises his wine glass slightly. He looks tired but stylish in his gray suit with a white underlay. His Audemars Piguet watch hits the candlelight, and he is too sexy to even bare right now.

You kissed that man, Rea.

I inwardly groan for the millionth time this week. Not my proudest moment, but it sure as hell was amazing. I felt that kiss all the way to my toes with the way he owned it. His soft lips slowly breaking down my defenses, the way his tongue teased and sampled me—epic.

Also irresponsible, stupid, and reckless.

"So you work with Emmy?" one of the girls sitting across from me asks. She's cute with a button nose and light brown hair, her eyes glinting that life is incredible and this dinner is, like, totally magical right now.

"Yeah," I reply. "I'm Governor Lockwood's party planner, and I help with—" Her neck snaps to Wade.

“I wish I would’ve known,” she coos. “My sister is a party planner.” Wade responds by nodding his head and taking another sip of his wine.

“She hasn’t started yet, Olivia,” Emmy states. “And we needed someone ASAP. Reagan does beautiful work.”

Olivia holds up her hand in defense. "I am so sorry; I didn't mean that you didn't. I wasn't trying—"

“Don’t worry about it. I don’t get offended easily,” I convey.

"How rich do you have to be to get you to plan a party?" the gentleman next to her inquires. "I'm a banker at West Branch, but I'm not rolling in dough yet.”

He winks at me, like his bank account means shit to me.

"Well, we're not discriminatory towards any income," I voice. "We can budget, and I find deals all the time that could help save money."

He smiles at me, exposing perfect teeth. “Do you have a business card?”

Fuck dude, I haven't even ordered my drink yet, chill.

I flip open my clutch in my lap and pull one out, holding back on chucking it at him from across the table.

He looks it over and peers up at me. “Do you have business hours?”

“No.” I shrug. “Just call...whenever.”

Olivia leans in closer to him, taking a look at my business card. “What kind of party are you planning, Nathan?”

He smirks. “I’m sure I’ll think of something.” He doesn’t take his eyes off me, alluding his little fuck-boy tendencies right out the gate.

“Make sure you schedule in advance,” I digress, fixing him with a bitch stare. “I get busy quickly.”

"Enough about work," Emmy states, waving her hands in the air. "It's the weekend, and I'm ready to relax."

“Oh my God,” exclaims the girl next to me. “I can’t believe you’re twenty-seven.”

I inhale a breath so as not to say anything and peer around the room at the numerous candles on empty tables surrounding us and on shelves off the walls.

"I know," another feminine voice states. "It was like we just turned eighteen, and we could finally hit the clubs."

My eyes land on Wade again, hiding his smirk behind his wine glass as he looks at me. He’s not oblivious, he has to know that I’m in the middle of a triangle with three girls, one I can stand, but the other two sorority-sister type chicks, nah, I’m ready to move my chair.

“What kind of services do you offer?” Nathan asks me over the girls speaking amongst each other.

“Anything I can get my hands on,” I answer. “Which is a lot.”

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