Ever so slightly, I shake my head, trying to rid myself of these stupid thoughts as I open the fridge. No, I was just kind of spiraling yesterday, so when he walked back in and looked at me with those bright-green eyes and the most sincere smile, he wasn’t just having a moment, hewasthe moment.
That’s it. I used him to numb myself.
My hand closes around a bottle of water, pulling it out before I open it, lost to more of my thoughts.
But if that’s true, then why does it feel more like I fell into him because I needed to? Like it was the only way I could heal.
Dammit. Either way, I shouldn’t have done it. I knew better, and now I wonder if I fucked us both with last night’s little escapade. He doesn’t deserve that ...Oh my god, why am I caring about his feelings?
This is Chase.
Silly, goofy, ridiculous . . .
I pause, my brows drawing together as my feelings begin to piece themselves together like a puzzle. Still, I try and hold on to my indignance.
No . . . This is Chase the . . .
My heart interferes with my head again, cutting off the thought. Holy shit. I think I might have a crush on Chase.
Ormaybe I’m hitting rock bottom mentally. Frankly, liking him and a full breakdown aren’t mutually exclusive, so ...
No. This can’t be happening to me.
I’m supposed to have an epic love story. That’s the plan. In my twenties, I keep a roster. I live life to the fullest. In my thirties, I get serious, start looking for the one. And when I meet a man who I know possesses the qualities to be my equal, he will yearn for me.
Yearn.
And then like a scene out ofPride & Prejudice, he’ll walk over a hill in a cashmere coat and fucking kiss me until I whimper.
Chase twerks in the kitchen while singing Shakira songs, doing the accent. He fucking asked a total stranger the other day if they could tell his Crocs were fake.
The fact that he wears Crocs in public automatically disqualifies him as my soulmate. Jane Austen would roll over in her grave.
And yet ... I do. I have a deeply problematic crush on Chase.
How have I not seen this?I’m so sorry, Janie ... What have I done?
Princess meows from where she’s perched on the couch, so I walk to her, petting under her chin, wishing there was someone to pet me instead.
This is too much emotional turmoil. But what did I expect? To not fall for the person who’s the human equivalent of a blankie for me.
Sometimes I’m the smartest person in the room, and other times I wonder how I make it through my day without dying.
And not seeing this coming is one of those moments. Because RIP my dignity.
On cue, Princess rubs her head on me, so I smile, thankful for a distraction. “Are you hungry, little tyrant? Let Auntie hook you up, because one of us should be happy.”
Princess digs her claws into the furniture, so I pick her up and carry her with me toward my room before I hear a phone buzz. I shift my head to see it’s Chase’s, lying face up on the kitchen island.
Is it polite to look at someone’s phone? ...No.Did he leave it up for me to see?Yes.
Peach squirms, so I let her go, before she runs into my room and I let curiosity get the best of me, having a little peek.
Except all I can see is who’s texting him but none of the message.
My brows raise as I look at the name.Hookers... If that STD gives me an STD, I will tell everyone I caught it at his restaurant. Ewww.
How is this the guy making me change my favorite color from green to red? How? I want answers from someone in this universe. Stat.
