Page 48 of Catfish

Rounding the table, she lands a kiss on the top of my head and makes her way out of the kitchen.

My mind immediately goes back to my message with Chase, like a teenage girl who has a crush on the popular boy at school.

Chase: Did you enjoy your cookies from the other day?

Chase: Or did you throw them away.

Damn him.

How did he know?

Me: Are you going to get mad?

Chase: No. You’d be smart.

Me: Then I threw them away. I’m sorry!

Chase: Don’t be.

Me: I’d make it up to you, but…you won’t let me.

Chase: Please don’t.

Chase: It was just a pick-me-up. And you won the bet.

Me: So you think my pick-me-up is cookies?

Chase: Not sure. But I don’t think it would’ve been the pick-me-up I would’ve had in mind if we had already met.

Curious as all hell on what his definition of a pick-me-up would be is an understatement.

Chase is a mystery, one I’m having fun slowly unraveling piece by piece. But my defenses are up around my heart and soul.

I’ve never let anyone take them besides Jed, and in turn, I ripped his right out of his chest.

Dating and sleeping with his brother/my ex-fiancé because I’m classy like that. Ever since then, they’ve been under lock and key buried under six feet of concrete.

Thing is, I don’t know what I want Chase’s answer to be. What would even satisfy me as a good one?

Chase: A beer to start. You in a chair so that I could massage your tense shoulders. Your neck would cock to the side, feeling my fingertips gently knead away all those knots.

Chase: Once you start feeling relaxed from my amazingly talented fingers, I’d help you to bed. But not before stopping you halfway down the hall to kiss the crook of your neck just to know what your skin tastes like.

Me: How do you think I taste?

Chase: Like sin.

Chase: Kissing your neck would be the safest option for me and even then…

Me: Even then…

Chase: I’d still tuck you into bed. I’m a gentleman, Sox.

I glare at the phone while the rest of my body floats off into a sex-craved daze of want and pondering.

I’d like to know what his lips feel like, how big his hands would feel under my ass. If he’d fuck me like a fragile doll or like he wanted to own me.

He was nice to look at, but Chase wasn’t my normal type. His sandy blonde hair reminds me of a sexy, witty Beach Boy.

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