Chapter 45
T he fuck is happening to me?
As I walked out of the bar, I had to acknowledge something that I had refused to do so for some time but had to say.
I was beginning to have feelings for Layla again.
If I didn’t, I could have just kissed her, fucked her, and not felt anything when it all went down.
Instead, I was having feelings just by having her look at me.
What did that say about me? What did it say that this girl had screwed me over so bad, and yet as she came back around…
Except she didn’t screw you over, she had no choice but to by her evil uncle. Maybe she wants to see if there’s something there given that you and her can actually try something outside the context of business. Maybe you should give it a shot.
But with everything going on? No way.
Around me, the chaos of New York City seemed to reflect the chaos of my mind.
Some sort of traffic delay had led to an incessant honking of cars and taxis, and the swirling wind and ominous thunder off in the distance that had only started in the last little bit seemed to double down on the potential problems that would soon emerge.
That didn’t even say anything about anyone who might potentially be watching me, not that I cared any longer about that possibility.
I pulled up my phone and realized I’d forgotten that Sarah had sent me a message. Pulling the phone close to my chest so that rain wouldn’t ruin it, I started to read as I began the trek back to my apartment.
“Hey handsome, how have things been this past week? You ready for me to come to NYC? :-)”
So the flirting had picked up some, it seemed. But what was also interesting was not only had Sarah written that, I could also see that she was in the process of writing more—I swore it almost felt like she knew I’d be leaving the bar at that exact moment and timed it perfectly.
“Don’t make me wait now! I’ve been waiting for almost a decade and you’re going to make me wait to hear from you? Geez, Chance!”
I laughed a bit uneasily, but didn’t see any harm in flirting back. After all, what were we but two people messaging each other on social media? This wasn’t in person yet and wouldn’t be for some time.
Plus, I was a bit more drunk than I’d meant to get. Consequences didn’t mean much to me at the moment; the only consequences I really cared about was making sure I didn’t fall flat on my face or get run over by a taxi between now and getting home.
“Aww, do you not like having to wait for your favorite man to come back around? Maybe I’ll just wait till tomorrow to tell you how I feel. :-)”
The fuck Chance, you using emojis now? Man, what happened to you?
Of course, I wasn’t really upset with myself for using emojis. It happened frequently when I was drunk. Especially with girls.
Especially with girls as attractive and beautiful as Sarah Hill.
Almost immediately, she began writing back. It was now clear to me that whatever she was doing in New Zealand—and God knew what time it was over there—I had her full, undivided attention. I could say and do just about anything I wanted.
“Fine then. I guess I won’t tell you now what I’m doing thinking about you.”
Woah.
This was… this was getting intense. Far more intense than I had certainly anticipated, and not at all what I had remembered Sarah Hill as.
But then again, what did I remember Sarah as other than the pretty girl in middle school? People changed so easily, it was ridiculous to think that the girl I knew in middle school was the same girl talking to me right now.
“And what might that be, Sarah?”
I could feel me getting hard just envisioning all of the things Sarah was doing.
I bet she was looking at my photos the way I would look at photos of her.
I bet her hands were moving over her body, caressing and massaging herself as she started out slow and then made her way down.
I bet she would be pleasuring herself in no time.
And I bet that in just a few short weeks, I’d be the one pleasuring her with all the time in the world made for her.
“Hmm, I think that might be a bit too scandalous for you, Chance. I don’t even know if you’re single. ;-)”
Well, the winky face definitely told me she was not asking her questions innocuously.
The flirtation had definitely become sexual.
When I saw here, I had my doubts that I would even make it out in public.
I might just make Morgan go on a food run, bring her back to my place, and then tear her clothes off in the middle of my living room.
To have waited a decade for that moment… to have made it through so many frustrations, heartbreaks, and disappointments… to have gone through hell because of things out of my control… only to finally have a chance…
I had to glance up to realize I’d become so engrossed in my thoughts I’d lost track of where I was.
I looked back down at the phone. There was only one answer to her statement, and it was a technically true answer, although it was clearly not a black-and-white, cut-and-dry answer.
Even if in some ways it is. You’re just making it have more shades of gray.
“Luckily for you, I am,” I wrote back with a mischievous grin on my face. “And luckily for me, that means you have to tell me now what you’re doing while you’re thinking about me.”
Again, immediately, Sarah was writing back to me. It made me wonder what time it was in New Zealand, actually—a quick glance at my phone showed they were eighteen hours ahead, which would have put her in the early evening. Perhaps she was waiting on dinner, or perhaps she was bored at her house.
No matter what, though, I was the center of her attention.
“Oh, Chance, you’re so inquisitive,” she said with a laughing emoji. “Plus, I refuse to believe you’re single. A man like you? There’s no way!”
I just laughed but the question put me a little off balance.
I checked through my Facebook profile—nothing on there suggested anything with Layla and Claire.
In fact, I hadn’t posted anything since before I’d met Layla, let alone anything during everything that had gone down.
I wasn’t even Facebook friends with Layla or Claire.
Granted, I had several photos of partying at Columbia with various women, but nothing would have suggested anything other than a college kid having a good time.
“Believe it or not, tis true,” I wrote back. “I suppose that when you know you might get to enjoy the company of one Sarah Hill, you take advantage.”
Before she could respond, I wrote, “But now you have to tell me what it is you’re doing.”
“I suppose you would like to know, wouldn’t you?”
My grin nearly strained my muscles. Again, I looked up and realized I’d missed a turn, and when I pivoted, how drunk I was hit me. I knew when I looked back at this conversation tomorrow I would probably see a dozen or so typos.
“OK, you asked for it, you got it,” she said.
Then, for what seemed like an eternity, the app showed her typing but not actually sending anything.
To say this drove me mad was an understatement—the childhood girl of my dreams, the one I’d silently spent ten years thinking about to various extents, was now all but sexting me.
Depending on how hot this got, I’d have to just call her and hear her moans.
Would she have an accent? Would she still sound like Sarah Hill from middle school? How different would she be?
I couldn’t contain myself watching. And then the screen went black.
“Fuck, what, ugh!”
But then I saw why it had gone black. I was getting a phone call, and it was not a phone call that I wanted to take drunk.
Andrew Patel.
Oh fuck me. What now? Is Edwin ruining this business too? Is war about to break out between us? Do I need to save Virtual Realty? I’m too drunk for this. I can’t be… goddamnit. Layla, you got me drunk.
And I liked it.
Ah, fuck. OK, fine.
“Hey, Andrew!”
I knew that my greeting was more exuberant than normal. Part of that was the alcohol, but part of that was a sense of nerves at what this call might mean. It almost might tell me if Andrew had some bad news by the way he would respond or his tone.
“Hey, Chance,” he said, just sounding more confused than anything else. That wasn’t the worst response; in fact, it was a pretty good one. If he was calling with bad news, he would have set the stage right there with a somber tone. “Is this a good time to call?”
Well, let me see. I just got drunk and realized I had feelings for a former lover I don’t want to have—or I don’t even know if I want to have.
My middle school fling is about one dirty message away from blowing open a can of worms. And at any moment, I half-expect my magnanimous adoptive father to pull some shit on me.
“Of course, it’s always, always a good time to call.”
Fuck, except for when I’m drunk and repeating myself. Get it together, Chance. This is a professional call, not some bullshit flirtatious sex call.
“OK, gotcha,” Andrew said, though I could hear the doubt in his voice, and why wouldn’t he have it? I didn’t sound sober, I couldn’t even pretend that I did. “I was actually calling to see if we could go ahead and get one of those consultations scheduled.”
“Consultations?”
It hit me a half-second after I had said that what he meant. I tried to save face, but I could hear the disappointment in his reply over my own voice.
“Oh, right, right, yeah, what was in our contracts, haha,” I said, followed by a hiccup. Dude! “Yeah, sorry, momentary forgetfulness. Of course, when do you want to do it?”
“Umm, as soon as we can,” Andrew said. “We have a major distributor we want to speak to soon and I want to make sure I have your insights.”
“Of, of course,” I said, pausing to take a deep breath to better gather myself. I needed to stay sober like hell, but it seemed like the more I fought, the worse I became.
Granted, if I didn’t try, it would somehow become the worst case scenario of all.
“Tomorrow, may… maybe?” I said.
“Yes, please, can I call you first thing in the AM? So like 11 a.m. your time?”
“Perfect,” I said, biting my lips shut so that my burp wouldn’t make it out loud. “Yes, let’s, let’s talk then.”
“Alright,” Andrew said with a laugh. It wasn’t hard to imagine what he was laughing at, and it wasn’t hard for me even in my state to realize this couldn’t happen again. “I’ll talk to you then.”
I hung up as quickly as I could and glared at my phone for what seemed like a dozen minutes.
I had just made a fool of myself for our biggest procured client.
Only by the graces of Andrew not being a hardass and not being aggressive had I avoided a stern lecture, but in some ways, that might have been even worse.
If Andrew was now making plans to cancel our deal…
OK, I knew he wouldn’t go that far. But this was not a great step to take between the two of us. The thought of losing him felt awfully real in that moment, even if I knew sober I’d realize one mistake and one phone call wouldn’t end it.
I had to get in a spot where I wouldn’t lose anything or anyone I cared about. I had to figure out this Edwin situation.
And to fight dirty, I knew exactly what it would take.
I became so enraptured with my idea as I walked into my apartment, finding Morgan awake and sober, that I completely forgot to check what Sarah’s final message had been.