Page 24 of Caught A Vibe

I grin at his choice of words even though he can’t see me. If we keep racking up these date plans, one of them has got to work. Hopefully I can make good on the promise in his voice. In the middle of the night, I can almost pretend we are chatting in bed in the dark. Together. The image snaps into place in my mind and refuses to budge. It’s so normal and natural and…nice. If we were together, he could spend the night, and we might find new ways to enjoy the naughty and the nice. I yawn deeply, imagining the cozy scenario, unable to keep it silent.

“It’s late,” he says. “I should let you go.”

“I wish you didn’t have to, but I do have to be up early.”

“Can I call you tomorrow?”

“I’d like that.”

“Till tomorrow, then. Sleep well, Penny.”

“I will now. Thank you, Dash.”

“For what?”

“For being here when I needed you. Good night.”

The next few days fly by. I am slammed at work for the best reasons. Preorders are through the roof. T-Con issues a formal apology and a reinstatement of my nomination even though the final awards have already been given out. Whatever. It prolongs the news cycle, and we will go back next year with our next toy and win it again.

My three-year plan has survived the pivot and is back on track. And I spend the end of every day video chatting with a handsome, interesting man over dinner.

Life is wonderful, and I can’t wait to head back into the office next week.

Until Monday, when the governor announces a shelter-in-place status for all nonessential businesses. We are sidelined for at least two weeks.

Turns out sex toys are nonessential pandemic items, though I seriously beg to differ. If people are stuck home alone, my product is very essential. I should know. I haven’t left my apartment since I got back, and if I didn’t have my MiO with me, I’d be going insane.

I pay my employees a two-week vacation and send them home, while I try to get any one of the venture capital funds to sign on the dotted line to extend their investment. But everyone has gone to ground to ride the virus out. How am I supposed to be a badass boss if I can’t even keep the lights on? I have spent too much time on this project to let it falter now, but I cannot see a path out of these weeds. Every potential outcome feels shrouded in fog, and I’m just stumbling around in it, hoping I don’t fall off a cliff before it clears.

The plus side of all this is I have more time to spend chatting about anything and everything with Dash. The last week and a half has felt like hyper-dating. Hours-long conversations cover everything from the fun to the fundamental, giving me the feeling I’ve known him much longer than I actually have.

It feels like literal years since I’ve been able to touch him, and with the added pressure of the stay-at-home order and the threat to my business, I really wish he was physically closer to help me relax. I am craving physical touch in a way I didn’t know was possible.

“Why the frown?” Concern is the first thing out of his mouth when I answer his video call.

I lie down on my couch and set my laptop on the coffee table, so I can feel like I’m lying next to him. “Rough day.”

“Me, too. You go first.”

“Nope, I’m not going to let it spoil my evening. Why was your day tough?”

“I didn’t sleep well and forgot to eat breakfast. And then I got distracted by a new game request and didn’t get my article researched. So it’s going to be a late night to catch up, which means I won’t sleep well again.”

“You forgot to eat? I wasn’t aware that was something a person could do,” I tease.

“Yeah, my ADHD fucks with me in a myriad of ways.”

“You’ve got ADHD?” I ask, suddenly feeling shitty that I made it a joke.

“Yep, although my parents would tell you I just need to work harder and apply myself.”

“Your parents would be wrong. Are you on any medication for it?”

“No, my parents wouldn’t even let the school officially diagnose me, much less take me to a doctor for meds. By the time I tried the pills as an adult, I was used to how my brain works and they made me feel weird. So I use strategies and skills to manage. They work better when I sleep and eat regularly. But you don’t want to hear about all of that.”

I don’t know what to say next. I feel like I have a million questions and no way to ask them that doesn’t feel rude or intrusive.

“Thank you for sharing that with me. I do want to hear more about it, whenever you feel like telling me.” I hope he can hear the honest truth in my voice.

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