Olivia
Thank God there are catfish in the world.
That’s a strange statement, I know. But considering my lack of substance for the current Unmatched series, I am grateful that we have had plenty of people calling and writing in wanting to talk about their own catfish experiences, most of which are more typical and transparent and less confusing.
After this past weekend, I am pretty sure every relationship is less confusing than what Luca and I have.
Which is why while I am at work, I am focused on everyone but us.
That, and if we are talking about all of our hijinks-filled listeners' lives, we aren’t talking about my life. Which is very preferable for me.
“So in conclusion, Madison, if he says someone else’s name during sex, he is most likely either seeing someone else or thinking of someone else and either way, his mind is not in bed with you,” I say into the microphone to a sobbing listener.
“Why do I always fall for the bad ones?” she blubbers.
“Because dating apps are cess pools,” Kiersten says with little to no empathy.
“We’ve all fallen victim,” I add. “And that’s all the time we have today. Tune in next time for another devastating yet relatable episode of Unmatched: Right Swipe, Wrong Person.”
We shut everything off, and I set my headphones down with a contented sigh.
“I think that went well,” I say with a smile.
“It did go well,” Kiersten agrees. “Especially for someone who has also fallen victim to catfishing.”
“Well, I have,” I admit, scrolling through my notes tablet. “We all have.”
“Some of us more than others…” Henry says, and I stop, looking up at them.
“If you’re looking for details about my trip with Luca, you’re not going to get them,” I tell them. “But there are details,” Henry presses.
“Of course there are details,” Kiersten answers for me. “It’s not like they could go to Miami, which is sexy enough on its own, and then get rained in for an extra day and there be no details.”
“Right,” Henry nods. “So, spill.”
But I just laugh lightly. “There is nothing to spill,” I insist and they both just give me a look. “He wasn’t a jerk. I didn’t have to play any games. We stayed at a nice hotel. I lounged by the pool while he worked; we networked and that was it.”
“You networked?” Henry asks with criticizing emphasis on the word.
“Well, he networked,” I wave as I start putting my things in my bag.
“Yeah, I can’t imagine you telling all those online dating advocates you lead a podcast about the evils of online dating and its advocates,” Kiersten says, and Henry smirks. I stop and look at both of them. But for the first time, I’m not letting any of it get to me.
“I had a good time,” I finally say. “It was fun, and I’m back, and we’re continuing with the podcast, and everything is good.”
“Good, because the podcast is going well and we have more listeners than ever, or good because your trip was good?” Henry asks with emphasis on all the obvious areas of the question.
I sigh through the smile that seems to be a permanent part of my current disposition. “Good. Just…good,” I answer, refusing to give them any more than that. Instead, I walk out, iced coffee and bags in hand, knowing full well I am leaving them hanging and not really caring what they think about it.
I drive back to my place and Vivien Lee rushes to me at the door.
She’s not always this enthusiastic to see me.
Half the time, she doesn’t even lift her head.
At the very most, I get an ear perk. But considering she was with my neighbor for multiple days, after our other unplanned night away, Vivien seems to be a little worried I am going to leave one day and not come back.
“I’m here, I’m here,” I insist, walking around her four-legged happy dance and heading over to the jar of dog treats that I keep on the fridge because Airedales can and will get on counters.
“Don’t worry, I’ll always come back.” Vivien believes me, though not until she is chewing happily on a peanut butter crunch bone, and I am able to make a snack for myself.
I smile as I think about the work day, not just the chaotic callers but also my friends, as I edged their curiosity with my lack of information.
“I didn’t lie to them,” I tell Vivien as she looks up at me.
“Things were good this past weekend, even with the rain. In fact, if it weren’t for the rain, we wouldn’t have talked as much as we did.
And honestly, I think it’s good that we talked.
I think we needed to talk. For research purposes, you know? ”
Vivien sits down and continues to stare, her way of asking me to go on. Actually, it’s probably her way of begging for another treat. I cave in and give it to her because I really do need someone to talk to, and it’s obvious that I can’t talk to my friends about this.
“I know what you’re thinking,” I say, unscrewing the jar.
“But it really was for research. If I know who Luca Laurent is on the inside, I know what his intentions are. Then I can take that information and apply it to my podcast notes. Make sense?” I ask, and Vivien grumbles indifferently before heading over to the couch to lie down.
I follow her, plopping down with a sigh.
“Yeah, you’re right. None of this makes sense,” I say as I pet her.
“Especially the whole intentions part. It just…I feel like Sadie might be wrong about him. I know he led her on and hurt her. And he’s known for being a player who will never commit to love or even really believe in it for that matter, but when I’m with him, he’s… I don’t know. Different.”
I wait for Vivien to answer, like she’s not just a dog with a belly full of peanut butter.
When she doesn’t, I go on reasoning with myself.
“He’s charming, and not in a schemey way, not in a means to an end catfish sort of way.
He’s actually sweet. Under the guarded, spiky, grumpy surface, of course.
Like a pufferfish,” I say with a giggle, and Vivien heaves out a sigh.
“Alright, I’ll stop talking about him,” I say.
Then my phone buzzes with a text.
I grin.
“Well, speak of the devil…” I say, and Vivien’s eyes dart up to meet mine. “What? I said I’d stop talking about him, not that I wouldn’t talk to him.”
She blinks.
“You know what? I’m just going to take this in the other room,” I say, padding across the floor and down the hall. In reality, I just want to change into something more comfy but I know Viv enjoys our bickering conversations.
Luca: Hey. You hungry?
Olivia: Who wants to know?
Luca: Someone who just spent the day dealing with incompetent interns.
Olivia: Uh oh. This someone sounds a little hangry…
Luca: I could go for a drink too. So what’s the verdict?
Olivia: That depends…is it a date?
Luca: Maybe…
Olivia: Hmm…alright. But under one condition.
Luca: Let me guess. You want sushi.
I smile, pacing my room as I stare at my phone screen. I am about to type yes (because let’s be honest, when do I not want sushi?) but then I stop.
Olivia: I have another idea…
Luca: Oh?
Olivia: Come over and you’ll see.
My heart skips around in my chest as I wait for his response. Then…
Luca: I’ll be there in twenty.
“I gotta admit,” Luca says as he takes a bottle of wine out of a paper grocery bag and sets it on the counter. “Your text was allusive enough to be questionable. But what isn’t questionable is how fucking amazing this kitchen smells.”
I smile over my shoulder as I flip a corn tortilla in the bubbling olive oil. “I hope you’re hungry,”
“I am. Hangry, as you put it. I assumed the requested wine was for nightcap purposes. But it looks like we aren’t going out,” he says.
“I hope that’s okay,” I say. “I’ve just been going a thousand miles an hour since we got back, and I thought a home-cooked meal sounded nice. That and I think Vivien Leigh is starting to have abandonment issues.”
“We wouldn’t want Miss Leigh getting upset,” he says, suddenly standing behind me, his hands snaking around my hips.
“Definitely not,” I say as a fluttering builds in my chest.
“Maybe we should plan on staying all night…” he says, planting a kiss on my neck.
“We can do that…” I say, and I don’t know if it’s the hot oil or his mouth against my skin, but beads of sweat are forming on my temples. “It would be a shame for all these tacos I’m making to go to waste.”
“It would,” he agrees, spinning me around to face him. “It would be a shame for a lot of things to go to waste.”
He leans in to kiss me, and my hip bumps the handle of the frying pan, and I pull back with a giggle.
“Luca,” I say, and he steps back.
“Yeah, you’re right. This is getting a little dangerous,” he says. And as I flip the last tortilla and set it on the plate, he grabs a sprinkle of shredded cheese and pops it into his mouth with a smirk.
And he’s right. Things are absolutely getting a little dangerous.
As we sit at the table eating tacos and sipping wine, the tension is thicker than the guacamole. Also, that sounded sexier in my head. Bottom line is the sexual tension is thick.
“This is really good,” he says, taking a sip of wine.
“Thank you,” I say in return. “I love tacos.”
“I do, too. And I was really hungry. Tacos hit the spot…”
I nearly choke on my wine.
“What?” he asks, his mouth open in a smirk and his eyes warm with the heat that seems to be physically radiating between us.
“Are you really making a joke right now?” I ask.
“I’m not joking,” Luca answers. “I love tacos. And I am hungry.”
“You mean you were hungry,” I say, my eyes pointing at his empty plate.
“No. I mean, I am hungry,” he says and I get up from the table, grabbing both of our plates and taking them to the sink. I need to put some space between us. It’s getting kind of spicy in here. And it’s not the peppers in the salsa.
But when I turn around, Luca is standing behind me, and I gasp as my heart slams into my chest.
“Am I being too much?” He asks as he takes my hips in his hands and tugs them against his. I can already feel his cock, hard and pointed north, in his slacks and the friction against me makes my knees shake.
“No. Not at all. I just…” I’m stuttering. Because I want this. I want him. I really, really want him. But I also feel like this journey that started with a clearly marked path got off on a side road and has come to a sort of crossroads. I am going to have to make a decision. One that scares me.
“I have an idea…” he says. There is something in his tone that tells me he senses my concern and apprehension. “What if we just do this?”
Luca’s voice is low and gritty, yet arousing and gentle as he kisses me.
“You think we can just kiss and it not lead to anything else?” I ask with a giggle. “Because I’m not even entirely sure that I only want to kiss. I’m just not sure if we should do more than kiss because–”
“I am perfectly content to kiss you all night until you fall asleep in my arms if that’s what makes you happy,” Luca says.
And as his lips cover mine again, I am thoroughly convinced that Sadie and everyone else are gravely wrong about Luca Laurent.