Page 57 of Check & Chase
Emma:About tonight. Should we talk about PDA expectations? Hand-holding? Arm around waist? What’s the minimum required to be convincing?
I debate flirting, but decide against it. Emma’s still skittish about this whole thing.
Me:Couples who’ve been dating a couple weeks would be comfortable with casual touches. Hand-holding, arm around waist, maybe a kiss on the cheek. Nothing too intense, but not awkward either. We should look like we enjoy touching each other.
Emma:Got it. See you at 8.
Short, to the point, very Emma. And yet I find myself smiling as I tuck my phone away.
By the time I reach home, my knee is throbbing. I stretch out on the couch with an ice pack, following at least one part of Emma’s recovery protocol, and find myself oddly excited for tonight.
It’s an opportunity to see if these growing feelings are worth exploring, or if they’re just a product of forced proximity and forbidden-fruit appeal.
Either way, tonight should be interesting. And if nothing else, watching Tyler’s face when I walk in with her on my arm will be worth the price of admission.
I check the clock—four hours until the party. Just enough time to nap, shower, and figure out a bare-minimum costume that won’t clash with whatever Emma decides to wear.
I barely manage to get comfortable on the couch before Max appears from wherever he’s been hiding. He jumps up without invitation, circles twice, and drops his full weight across my chest like he owns the place. His purr rumbles against my ribs as he kneads my shirt with his claws.
“Thanks for the input, buddy,” I mutter, scratching behind his ears. He butts his head against my palm, demanding more attention even as my eyelids grow heavy.
The last thing I remember before drifting off is Max’s steady purring and the weight of him keeping me anchored to the couch. Dreams come filled with blonde hair and green eyes and a smile that’s becoming dangerously important to me.
Emma
Chapter Eleven
“Are you sure about this costume?” I tug at the hem of my dress, which barely covers the essentials. “I feel like I’m auditioning for a Halloween porno.”
Maya looks up from applying her cat makeup, her brown eyes critical as they sweep over my outfit. She’s painted whiskers on her dark cheeks and somehow managed to make her natural curls look perfectly feline. “You look hot. Stop fidgeting.”
“Hot wasn’t the goal,” I mutter, turning sideways to examine my reflection. “Believable couple costume was the goal.”
When Maya suggested we coordinate costumes, I’d imagined something cute but modest. But Maya, with her unerring talent for pushing me out of my comfort zone, had other ideas.
Which is how I ended up as a very slutty Little Red Riding Hood to Chase’s Big Bad Wolf. The tattered red dress—if you can call this scrap of fabric a dress—hugs every curve I possess and a few I didn’t know I had. The matching red hood sits askew on my blonde hair, completing the look.
“Stop overthinking it.” She appears behind me, adjusting her cat ears. “It’s Halloween. Everyone dresses slutty.”
“You’re dressed as a cat,” I point out.
“A sexy cat,” she corrects, striking a pose that makes me laugh despite my nerves. “Besides, this is perfect. Tyler will lose his mind seeing you with Chase in matching costumes, and Chase won’t be able to keep his eyes off you.”
“He’s supposed to be acting like my boyfriend, not mentally undressing me all night.”
Maya gives me a knowing look. “You sure that’s not exactly what you want?”
“Positive,” I lie, ignoring the flutter in my stomach.
The truth is, despite all my protesting about professional boundaries, I’m looking forward to tonight more than I care to admit. To seeing Chase outside the constraints of our PT sessions. To playing the role of a couple without constantly looking over our shoulders.
And yes, maybe to making Tyler jealous. Just a little.
My phone buzzes.
Chase:Party is in full swing. Tyler arrived with Carina. Both looking miserable. Perfect timing for our entrance.
Me:On our way. ETA is 15 minutes.
