16-REAGAN
My phone binged with a new order. In the middle of my kitchen, I dusted the flour off my hands, set a timer, and pulled the order up.
*New Customer*: Vincent Hawthorne
Note: Excited to see you. In a cool way, though.
I took a screenshot and, without a second thought, sent it to Miles.
Reagan: He tipped me fifty dollars?!
Miles: Okay, but he’s excited to see you? See you when?
Reagan: We have a date on Saturday.
Miles: Tate needs to sign those papers!
Reagan: I tried, ended up sending the text to Vincent.
Miles: You’re so dumb.
Exiting his message, I sent one to Vincent.
Reagan: You shouldn’t have tipped me.
Setting the dirty bowls and spoons in the sink, my phone chimed.
Masked Midnight Daddy: You deserved it. Buy something for Saturday if you want.
I closed his message without replying, starting to think that not texting him was making him think about me more than not. I needed to change his name, but I would get around to it after these dishes.
Rinsing the last cup, my phone chimed again. Thinking I would be getting a second text from Vincent, I leaned over to glance at the screen. I rolled my eyes when I read the complete opposite.
Tate: Can we meet up? I saw your car outside and would stop by, but you apparently don’t like that anymore.
Yes. Once upon a time, I loved it when Tate stopped by unannounced, surprising me. That was back when he wanted my attention, wanted to hear my thoughts, and wanted to spend time with me. Now I get “You talk too much” and “You never go out anymore”.
I dried my hands and picked up my phone.
Reagan: Why? Did you sign the papers?
Tate: You know I didn’t. And you know I want to work this out.
Reagan: And you know I don’t, so what is this about Tate?
He didn’t respond and has been making a lot of comments about hooking up since we separated, especially since I lost weight.
I had spent less than twenty-four hours with one man who had put more effort into our relationship than Tate had in the last five years.
And that’s not saying much, because literally all we did was fuck.
He did it how I wanted. He didn’t just have me lie there and accept what little he had to offer.
But it screamed at me that I deserve better, and I did.
After Miles insulted me for being dumb. He sent another text.
Miles: So what are you doing Saturday?
Reagan: I’m not sure. I think we’re just going to dinner.
Miles: dinner and then your place.
Reagan: No more like dinner, and we’ll see what happens.
Did I dare say that I craved to be under his touch again?
And consumed by his gaze? In reality, all I thought about was the way Vincent treated me mentally and physically, and I wanted that again.
I didn’t know much about him, so I couldn’t really say I had a crush, but God, I wanted to be fucked by him again.
Damnnit, I was getting in deep. It’s almost as if his dick had some weird spell on me. Is this my mother’s doing? I wouldn’t put it past me if Mom and all her “not witch friends” had something to do with some love spell before the event.
But then again, my mother was not really interested in me falling back in love when things with Tate had ended so poorly. If anything, she probably would have tried to recruit me to join their “not coven”.
I suppressed the feeling of Vincent and added cream cheese to my shopping list.
?
Masked Midnight Daddy: She made me think of you. Because you’re pretty.
Attached was a picture of a blonde horse. I tried to take the compliment that a horse made Vincent think of me.
Reagan: Thank you.
Masked Midnight Daddy: Where am I picking you up tomorrow?
Reagan: You can pick me up from my house, but I was also gonna ask if you wanted me to bring the danishes you ordered, or if you wanted to participate in the full Wild Flour experience and pick them up at my storefront.
Masked Midnight Daddy: Whatever is easier for you. I also want you to pick the place we’re going to. So I hope you have one in mind.
And boy, did I. Tate did not have an expanded palette because if it wasn’t his usual three restaurants, he was not interested.
So this would be nice for me to try something new.
There was a cozy rustic bar and grille, just east of town.
I have always wanted to try it since they opened two years ago, and Miles wasn’t one who liked that scene.
I thought about going by myself a few times when Tate pissed me off, and I stormed out of the house, but it never conspired.
Miles: What are you doing tomorrow?
Reagan: I have that date, remember?
Miles: I know. Do you know what you’re doing? Can I come over?
Reagan: No, you don’t need to come over while I’m gone.
Miles: No duh, I want to see what he looks like in person. I want to see how he moves. How he acts. Does he hold the door open for you?
Reagan: I can assure you, he does most of those things.
Miles: I just think you’re scared he’s gonna see me and forget you.
Reagan: Like I said, seconds.
Miles: Oh, by the way, I was chronically scrolling online again and saw that your balaclava boyfriend made some headlines about taking his mask off. But nobody knows who he is. Some information was leaked, and I thought you would want to check it out.
He had attached the link. I immediately tapped it to see exactly what was said.
The video showed a woman talking over a green screen, with a group chat attached. “It’s been leaked that one of the masked men at the last Forewarning event took his mask off. Pause to read.”
The numbers were blurred out, and from what I could tell, Vincent wasn’t any of them.
Unknown A: So we think it’s Fang?
Unknown B: Yeah.
Unknown C: I didn’t think he would be one to take his mask off.
Unknown B: I heard the girl wanted him to do it.
Unknown A: And they didn’t say exactly who it was. But Fang did say he broke rules. So…
Unknown D: In the end, it’s not about getting your dick wet. Was he really that dumb to risk losing twenty grand?
I tapped the screen, and she continued, “Rumor is that it was Fang. The balaclava mask.” Content from The Forewarning’s page featuring him filled the screen.
“Who is this man? More importantly, who was the woman worth losing twenty grand for?” The video looped back to the beginning, and I hit my home button.
I really didn’t know how to take this. I didn’t know that Vincent had lost twenty grand just because he’d taken his mask off. If I knew that was the case, I wouldn’t have asked him.
I wanted to text him about it, but I figured, with our date tomorrow, it might be better to ask him in person. Maybe I could get more information that he was holding back.