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I close the door to the bedroom, only to have Benji wake up and bark at me for the insult. The two of us are glue, and he’s not willing to take the separation very kindly. I don’t blame him since the whole basis of his training is keeping me alive, which is a pretty big job for a dog already and doing it at a distance makes it even harder.
I open the door again and apologize as Benji trots through the opening to jump up on the bed. “Sorry, Benj. I wasn’t thinking.”
He woofs his agreement, and I roll my eyes. He doesn’t have to rub it in.
All bedroom parties now accounted for, I close the door, jump up on the bed with him, and grab my phone from the nightstand. Part of me feels weird to reach out to Chase in this case, but the other rational part of me knows he’s not the kind of guy to get testy about my asking for his whereabouts when I have a good reason.
Me: Hey, Chase. Sorry to bother you, but I was just wondering where you went. Ha. You know, like, I mean…are you coming back soon? I was thinking about going to bed and I didn’t want to leave the door open but I didn’t want to lock you out if you didn’t have the key and
Yikes. Somehow, I’ve managed to be both awkward and formal and grammatically incorrect all in one text. Delete.
Let’s try that again.
Me: Hey, buddy, do you have the key to the motor home?
Right. Vague as hell meets confusing as hell. Delete.
Me: Heyaaa. Mind telling me where you went and when you’ll be back?
Great, now I’m the newest member of OutKast, and they haven’t even released an album in I don’t know how many years.
Delete.
Come on, Brooke. Just be normal.
Me: Hey, I’m getting ready to turn in for the night and want to lock the door for safety and shit. Do you have the key to get in when you get back?
Not stellar exactly, but the best of the bunch by a mile. I hit send before I can overthink it and flop back onto the pillows at the top of the bed. Benji picks up his head at the jolt of the mattress.
“Sorry, Benj, but you know who you’re dealing with. And seeing as we’re traveling with the hottest man alive, I don’t anticipate that it’s going to get better anytime soon.”
I’ve never heard a dog do it before, but I could swear he laughs.
I cover my eyes to escape his doggie scrutiny, but the relief is short-lived. Before I can even take a full deep breath, my phone is trilling on the comforter beside me with the sound of a text.
I pick it up and open the message, clenching my buttocks as I do. I may be a big girl with big achievements, but I’m a scaredy-cat-and-a-half with any kind of regular adulting types of things. Add in my crush, and I’m a flounder.
Chase: Hey, sorry for just taking off. I went for a quick walk and ended up in a decent bar to have a quick drink. I’ll be back shortly, but definitely go ahead and lock the door. I have the key.
Is it really possible that this is a real guy in today’s world? Not only is he not upset, he’s apologetic and forthcoming. Last I checked in the biology books, they’d taken those off the list of possibilities for males.
“Is it any wonder that I wrote a book about this guy, Benj?” I ask my dog, though I imagine we both know he’s more of a vessel for self-reflection than an actual conversation partner. I’ll admit, though, he’s a pretty great one. He never actively disagrees and usually goes along with what I say.
Okay, maybe that’s not great for other people all the time, but it is great for me.
Me: Okay, thanks. I’ll leave the living room light on for you.
I roll my eyes at myself, but I send it anyway. I am what I am.
Chase: Thanks, Brooke. Goodnight.
Every part of my flesh and bones and organs sighs. Chase Dawson telling me, Brooke Baker, goodnight in what I imagine is a sweet, sultry voice is not how I saw this whole exchange ending, and therefore, I’m not prepared for it.
A very large part of me considers sticking my hand down my pants again, but I fight with all I have to talk myself out of it. I just finger-banged myself to thoughts of this man not even fifteen minutes ago, and already, I’m considering doing it again.
You are a freak.
I’m pretty sure it would be categorized as the kind of behavior that takes you to a thirty-thousand-dollar rehab in the San Fernando Valley with a bunch of sex-addicted celebrities who want to pretend they’re doing something about it while drinking fifteen-dollar juice bar drinks and getting massages on the daily.
