Page 12 of Fitch

A lot of frustration though.

So, exhausted, unsatisfied, and confused, I rolled my stupid arse over and went to sleep.

I was still kindamad at myself when I woke up. So I did some laundry, sent a few texts to Benji, and just hung around waiting for Ky to wake up.

He rolled out of bed around eleven, came out to the kitchen wearing nothing but underwear, and took his juice from the fridge.

“Morning,” I said with a smile. “Late night?”

“Hm,” he said, taking a swig straight from the bottle. “Weird night. There was a big fight down past Joe’s. Just some drunk dickheads,” he added before I could ask. “Cops came pretty quick, but the crowd kinda dispersed after that.”

“You said it was a weird vibe,” I said. “Shoulda listened to yourself.”

He nodded as he took another swig. “Some guy was asking for you,” he said.

What?

“Who? Not those arseholes after Benji?”

He shrugged and shook his head. “Nah. Don’t think so. Older guy. Kinda hot. Pretty sure he goes to 180.”

Oh.

Could it be . . . ?

My heart knocked and my dick twinged with the first sign of life in almost twenty-four hours.

Oh, now you’re interested . . .

“Did he say his name?”

Ky gave me a side-eye. Because of course he didn’t. No one gave us their real name.

“Was he tall, greyish hair? Blue eyes?”

Ky put his juice on the counter and stared at me. “Fitch,” he said quietly. “Are you... Is that the guy from the other night?”

I felt far too scrutinised. “I dunno. You didn’t ask his name.” I got defensive for whatever reason. “You took a photo of him, didn’t you? The other night? Did you delete it yet?”

He frowned and went back to his room, returning a second later with his phone. He was scrolling. “I think I have it.” He turned his screen around to show me. “That’s him.”

My heart kicked up another notch.

It was him.

It was Dom.

“Did he say what he wanted?”

Ky was looking at me. “You like him,” he said, smiling genuinely. “Shit, dude. No, he just asked for you. I told him I didn’t know who he was talking about.”

That was also pretty standard for us.

“I wasn’t telling him shit,” Ky added. “But if I hadda known you were gonna get all flushed when you saw his photo, I would have given him your number. I mean, he knew your first name.”

I pretended to be mad. “Oh fuck off. I’m not flushed. What even is that? Am I a toilet?”

He rolled his eyes. “Whatever. But tell me honestly, if he comes looking again and asking for you—by your first name—what am I telling him?”

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