Page 57 of Catfish

I don’t want to belong to a man right now.

Me: How’s it going, Yank? We play against each other next week, ya know?

Chase: I do, different stakes?

Me: Me in red lingerie doesn’t sound appealing to you anymore?

Chase: I have something better in mind.

Me: And what would that be?

Chase: A phone call.

Me: Really?

Chase: Really.

“Drink up, Rea,” Sadie prods. “You’ll need more alcohol to go sing.”

I can’t wipe the smile off my face when I say, “I’m buying you a hearing aid for your birthday.”

Rereading Chase's message, a small thrill shoots through my body.

A phone call I could do.

I take another sip of my margarita, letting the taste of the tequila burn the pit of my stomach. The sound of a man’s voice can open up so many more fantasies, but now that the idea is in my head, I’m all for it.

Me: You’re on.

Chase: Always, Sox. You just do that to me.

Me: LOL. You’re full of shit.

Chase: Guess you’ll find out.

Me: Is it bad that I might want the Sox to lose?

Chase: LOL. You’re not very loyal.

Me: Just want to hear your voice is all.

Chase: Why so you can see if I sound like a mouse?

Me: Exactly.

Chase: I love how you don’t lie to me.

Me: No point. Plus, it keeps you in check.

Chase: My clients do that, don’t worry.

Me: Another rough day?

Chase: Rough year.

Chase: But let’s keep talking about how much you think about me.

Me: Never said that.

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